Vamped Up (3 page)

Chapter Four

“Never allow your vampiric strength to weaken your moral character.”

San Francisco Haven Rule #2

R
UAN WASN’T SURE
what time he’d dozed off. The last thing he remembered, Eve was coiled beside him, making little whimpers in her sleep, her back pressed against his chest, her head lying in the crook of his arm. She was nude. He was uncomfortable, having gone another interlude with her without releasing his own tension.

He couldn’t sleep. Not tonight anyway. There was too much to do. Daylight was a few hours away and he could get all the sleep he needed then. No matter how he’d tried, he couldn’t pull himself out of their bed.

So he’d stayed. Stared at the ceiling. Thought about Eve and what happened in the warehouse.

It never used to be like this. When they’d first gotten together four weeks ago—had it only been four weeks?—the sex was scorching hot, the bloodlust manageable. He could screw her every minute of every hour all night long and easily control the urge to pierce her vein.

The more time passed—the longer he was with her, the more comfortable things got between them, or the more his love for her deepened—the more he wanted,
needed
, to drink from her.

It was all he could think about anymore.

How could he have let himself get that carried away tonight? He’d bitten the hell out of her thigh, for Christ’s sake. Like he was a ravenous animal, incapable of controlling his basic needs. Usually he was the calm one. The level-headed bastard who could give her pleasure while showing restraint on his end. Keep his fangs where they belonged, tucked behind his gums.

But now, everything was a bloody mess. Literally.

He’d been so close to the edge when that first taste of her sweet nectar passed his lips. So close to pulling all of her blood into him, without a second thought about her pain . . . or her pleasure. Something inside him burned for her the moment they’d made contact. That burn escalated when those first draws of blood slid down his throat. Only when her blood hit his stomach, warming him from the inside out, did the fire in him die down. Somehow her blood soothed him on a level he’d never known. It was more than nutritional. More than desire.

It was
everything
he’d ever wanted. All he’d ever needed. Logic played no part in his blood-thirsty greed.

And it had hurt her.

It pained Ruan to look her in the eyes when they got back to the apartment. Shame spread through his body like a virus, infecting his every thought. He could’ve finished that Alvambra bottle of AB before training. That might’ve warded off the hunger pains. He could’ve sent Eve home, where she really would’ve been safe. Safe and away from him.

But no. He’d gone and crossed an unforgivable line. He’d caused her pain. Soiled her legs with her own blood. Punctured that perfect skin with his damn canines.

Riddled with regret, Ruan’s stomach soured at the thought of—
oh God—
Eve’s blood passing through his system. He was about to explode out of his skin. He chastised himself for the hundredth time for ever thinking he could love a mundane, lay with one every night—without the urge to feed from her.

He was such a bastard. A selfish, blood-thirsty bastard. Even still, with all the remorse swirling in his head, he knew there was no way in hell he could stay away from her.

Lying in bed, wide-awake but unable to tear himself out of Eve’s embrace, he’d crossed off a mental checklist. He needed to secure another shipment of Alvambra, blood bottled locally for San Francisco vamps, with a quickness. Maybe he was going through another growth spurt, God help him. Maybe his caloric intake was increasing. He supposed that could be the reason for the enhanced bloodlust.

Whatever the reason, he had to get a grip on it fast.

Staying away from Eve would hurt him more than he’d care to admit to himself. But if it came down to it, and he couldn’t squelch the fire burning in his gut for her blood, he’d hurt himself before hurting her.

Somewhere between searching his memory for the date of his last feeding and thoughts of Eve and the succulence of blood rushing beneath her skin, Ruan succumbed to sleep.

When the nightmare started, everything was dark. Black as the blackest night. Heavy breathing and the hard pounding of a heart—probably his own—drowned out all sound. Anxiety and unease chilled his bones, sending pinpricks of anticipation buzzing across his skin.

Like the sudden and absolute strike of a lightning bolt, he was sucked into the nightmare full-force. It was like tunnel vision. A wormhole taking him to another time. A vortex from which there was no escape and no free will. Ruan helplessly surrendered to the nightmare and what it would reveal to him this time around.

Without sight or bearing, a dull ache in his chest had him clamping a fist against his rib cage. Within seconds that numbing pain became a stabbing force threatening to bring him to his knees. Hissing in pain, Ruan massaged small circles against his chest . . . and realized his hands were soaking wet.

He dragged his hands up to eye level and stumbled backward. Blood blanketed his fingers, reached toward his shoulders and around the left side of his chest. Near his heart. His breathing snagged at the sight. His heart drummed erratically in his chest. Against the words screaming in his head, he glanced down his body to the floor at his feet.

Something was wrong. He’d done something terribly wrong!

There, lying crookedly on the cold concrete was Eve. She wore nothing but a thin chemise gown, the straps hanging far off her shoulders to reveal the plumpness of her bare breasts. Her hair was a tangled mess of blood and mud. Her expression was blank. And she was pale. Far too pale.

Ruan dropped to his knees, ghosting his hands over her lifeless body. She was dead. It didn’t take the two-finger test against her jugular for him to figure it out. He could
feel
it with every part of his being. The pain in his chest made sense now. His heart was in pieces. Was it her blood that covered him?

Distracted by the disjointed thoughts swarming in his head, Ruan followed a red smudge from her knee to her thigh, and lightly tugged her nightgown up. Staring him in the face was the same scarlet mark he’d ravaged her with in the warehouse. His gaze skidded up her body with renewed clarity. The same mangled marks covered both sides of her neck, the open palms of her hands, and the soft curves of her waist.

She’d been attacked. Taken advantage of, drained, and left for dead.

Reflexively, he put a hand to his mouth. And came away with globs of blood from his lips.

Oh God.
The metallic taste of blood still tingled on his tongue. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sweet taste of Eve coating his throat, as the realization hit him.
He did this to her.
He filled her up with his sex. Drained her dry with his mouth.

To his horror, there wasn’t a lick of remorse in his body for what he’d done. She was his. To do with what he wanted. And he wanted more.

Beyond his control, he bent over her and planted a wet, bloody kiss on her mouth. When her lips remained pout and firm from death’s last breath, Ruan greedily bit into the flesh of her bottom lip and tugged it into his mouth.

He shot out of bed with a holler.

“Are you all right?” Eve asked, startled. She sat upright, clutching the sheet to her breasts.

“I’m fine.”
I can still taste the alluring tang of your blood on my lips.
“Go back to sleep.”

“You’re sweating.” She fanned the sheet. “Geez, you’re burning up.”

Yanking back the covers, Ruan slid out of bed. He had to get some space. Somewhere he couldn’t be tempted by the nearness of Eve and the delicious memory of the nightmare.

By the time he got to the bathroom to splash his face with cool water, the nightmare was evaporating as quickly as it came. Details became blurred. Was he covered in blood? Was she? Where had they been? Within seconds, the only thing Ruan knew for certain was that he’d bit Eve . . . killed her, maybe . . . and he’d thoroughly enjoyed himself.

Before he could grasp hold of the snippets of nightmare, Eve appeared in the doorway, sleepy-eyed and wild-haired, her white satin chemise showing enough skin to make Ruan squirm, even now. She leaned against the jamb, arms folded, sizing him up and down. “You had another one, didn’t you? Another nightmare?”

The water felt refreshing as he splashed it onto his face and down his neck. His fangs retreated to their proper place. His pulse slowed. Just what he needed. “Yeah, but it was nothing. Everything’s fine. Go back to sleep.”

He’d thought about telling Eve about his nightmares a thousand times over. But what would come of it? She’d either get spooked and think him a monster or push closer, insisting it didn’t mean a thing. If Ruan was honest with himself, he knew both options were unacceptable. Even though he hated his nightmares and what they insinuated about his true nature, he didn’t want the love of his life viewing him that way. And he
really
didn’t need Eve patronizing him, smothering him with talk about how his instincts are “natural”. No, there was nothing natural about his dreams. Why couldn’t they just live normal lives, with normal beliefs about the world and normal cravings?

“Do you remember anything this time?” Eve walked behind him, wrapped her arms around his middle and kissed his back. “Was it the same as the others?”

He shook his head and glanced at the mirror behind heavily-lidded eyes. He didn’t know what he expected to see in the reflection. A demon, maybe? That’s how he felt. Instead, he saw Eve, peeking out from behind his back, a tired droop to her gaze.

God, he wished he could remember every last bit of the nightmare. Maybe then he could figure out what the hell was going on—what the recurring dreams meant—and stop feeling this way every time he woke up. “It was the same. At least I think it was the same.”

He lied. It wasn’t the same and he knew it. Every other time he’d woken up feeling guilty and burdened, like he’d done something seriously wrong. He’d always known Eve was in trouble. And he’d told her so, time and time again. The feeling that he’d hurt her was always strong, even hours after waking.

But this nightmare was horribly different. He could still
taste
her. That had never happened before. It was almost like the nightmare had carried over, beyond the realm of sleep. He wondered if it had anything to do with losing control earlier. He cupped water from the faucet into his hands and drank greedily. He needed to cleanse his mouth and wash out the taste of her blood.

“I’m safe, Ruan,” Eve whispered, knowing how many times he’d shot out of bed screaming her name. “Everything’s going to be okay. I’m not in any kind of danger. Dylan and Slade would tell us if there was another rebellion . . . if any rogue vamps were after me for my blood. They would’ve sent word. The last email you got said that—”

“I know. It said she’d successfully duplicated your blood. I know you’re not in danger like you were before, but that doesn’t mean there’s not still a threat.”
Especially from me.

Eve kissed him lightly. A feather-soft flutter across the span of his back. “Call her. I’m sure Dylan’s at ReVamp at this hour. Find out for yourself. You’ll see. Your nightmares are just that—nightmares. You’re worried for nothing.”

He sighed heavily, trying to let her words sink in. Eve had the purest blood of any mundane on record. Blood that’d make the most chaste vampire moan with hunger. But they’d run from their haven. Sought refuge together, far from the prying eyes of any khiss. Dylan had spent tireless hours at ReVamp, duplicating Eve’s blood to protect her. Ruan had vowed to keep Eve safe from harm. Turns out he needed to be wary of himself most of all. Didn’t see that one coming.

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right.” He didn’t sound convincing.

“I’m serious, Ruan. I think it’ll help if you talk to her. Maybe the nightmares would go away completely.”

He turned and kissed her on the forehead. He’d had a nightmare every night since he’d first made love to Eve. It wasn’t about to change because of a simple talk with his former flame. And he’d had enough chit-chat to last him a lifetime. “I think your students are going to have one useless professor in the morning if you don’t get some sleep.”

As he guided Eve back to bed and tucked her in, he prayed to God another nightmare didn’t strike him tonight. They were getting more vivid. More real. Soon, although he had no way of knowing when, the terrible feelings emerging from his subconscious would inevitably reign. They’d take control, dragging his nightmares to the forefront of his mind.

How would he keep his distance from Eve, then? When he could taste her blood on his lips every second of every minute, both day and night? He’d be like a raging alcoholic with a penchant for shattering glass, canoodling with a bottle of Jack.

Ruan had a niggling spur in his gut warning him that when that time came, all hell was going to break loose. And everyone stuck in his crossfire was going to suffer for it.

Starting with Eve.

Chapter Five

“Vamp authorities are hot on Savage’s heels. He’s armed and dangerous and rumored to be hiding south of Crimson Bay. Do not approach the vampire-therian hybrid under any circumstances. We do not know the full threat he poses to our race, only that he is one.”

San Francisco Haven Newsletter: Note from the Primus, 2011

Q
UIET AS THE
dead. That’s not exactly what Savage had in mind when he started interrogating his enemy in the bowels of Fort Point . . . but seeing as she was already considered dead by most modern vampire standards, the point was moot.

The vampire elder was sprawled before him in nothing but a dingy white sheet, her arms and legs draped over a cold stone tablet, blood trickling down her body in rivers of glistening red. As he tied the rope in another knot around her wrist and looped it around the rusted railroad nail secured to the bottom of the stone, she grimaced, but said nothing.

After stalking around the table, performing the same torture technique to each of her limbs, Savage stood and admired his work. Her body couldn’t possibly contort another inch without popping balls from sockets and ripping flesh from bone. She had to be in excruciating pain.

Yet she revealed nothing of value.

Frustrated beyond measure, Savage scrubbed his hands over his skull-trim cut and paced the edges of the dark room. Fort Point, the former military stronghold of San Francisco, had been an integral component in the defense of the Pacific half of the country in at least three major wars, starting with the Civil War in the eighteen hundreds. And even though the government had kept the information under wraps, Savage managed to dig up books dating back hundreds of years, revealing that this very room had been used for interrogation and torture from the start.

It was the perfect place for him to push through the details of his plan—cold and dark, dank and rotten, full of evil . . . and above all, private. Public tours barely scratched the surface of the fort and adjoining buildings. If the National Park Service only knew one of the most expansive underground structures in the world existed beneath their feet, the entire country would be buying tickets, waiting in line to see where the real horrors of war took place.

Lucky Meridian . . . one of the few to experience the tour firsthand.

“I brought you here because you broke your promise.” Savage sauntered to the side wall as if strolling through Golden Gate Park on a Sunday afternoon, unzipped the duffel he’d brought with him, and pulled out a six-inch serrated boot knife. “Now, any other promise I wouldn’t have minded. You’ve broken so many, it’s hard to keep track. But this one is unforgivable. You swore you’d tell me how to unveil the dark powers of the Ever After.” He spun the knife around in his hand, admiring the balanced weight of it. The cold, hard steel against his flesh. The strong, thick handle settling perfectly into the heart of his palm. “You lied to me, sent me to hunt rogue
phantoms
in Los Angeles. For what?”

With the knife hidden behind his back, Savage leaned over Meridian again. As her pale blue eyes scanned the rough contours of his face, they turned nearly translucent with fear.

“I told you what would happen if you betrayed me,” Savage seethed. “Your darling Eve will pay.”

As she looked at him again, her expression blank, he saw she didn’t have much time left. Vacancy signs had already started to dim the light behind her eyes. “Savage,” she moaned as he pulled the ropes tighter. “You cannot control the
death shades
. They are too powerful to be controlled by one. Any man who tries will have a swift meeting with Death.” Eyes squeezed tight, her lips puckered as pain shot through her body, arching her back. “And you don’t even know why Eve is of value, just that she is. It is not enough to know; you must understand. You have not stretched your mind further than your own selfish desires.”

Laughter bubbled out of him. “It’s not me who’s stretched, old lady—it’s you.”

He sheathed his knife, opting to take her wager and raise her another two notches. He cranked down on Meridian’s wrists. Her mouth opened wide, letting out a wretched howl—music to Savage’s ears.

“Oh, so you do have a pain threshold,” he breathed, searching her expression for another grimace. “Interesting. I was beginning to wonder, you know.”

She swiped her tongue over her thin, cracked lips. “Do what you will with me. I will not help you create more evil in this world.” She was breathing heavily now. Her skin was pale and clammy. “But I also know you will never stop until you fulfill your twisted desire. I expect nothing less from you, my son.”

Son.

The word scorched his eardrums, shot a fiery arrow straight for the region of his chest that no longer held his merciful heart. He was no one’s son. Never had been. At least not in her judgmental eyes.

“It amazes me how someone so brilliant can be so stupid.” He fisted handfuls of her silver locks. “I haven’t been a son to you since the day I was born. Convenient of you to bring out the endearment once you’re in danger and I’m in control. Do you honestly think the love I had for you will somehow reappear like a blessing from God, all white and holy and forgiving?” He released his grip on her hair and smacked her right across the face with the back of his hand. She spat blood on the dull marble floor. “Allow me to burst your pathetic little bubble. There is no God. Not within earshot anyway.”

“These stone walls may save you from the vampires and therians hunting you down, but they will not save your soul, Kane. You cannot hide from your fate. You will answer for your actions, whether in this life or the next.” Her weak voice crackled like dry wood in a blazing fire. “If you unleash the
death shades
, your soul will bear the punishment. But I forgive you.”

“You will call me Savage,” he hissed, his lips brushing her ear. “And you may be All-Knowing Meridian—spoiled by people falling at your feet, begging to glimpse their future—but you can’t fool me. You can’t see a lick of my future. How bad does it bother you that you’re blind to my path?” Shaking his head in disbelief, he coughed out a laugh. “Ever wonder how you got to this place, tied up and bloodied, about to take your last breath? Wouldn’t you have liked to see this coming? Don’t you wonder why I‘ve been blocked to you all this time?”

Meridian’s chest rose and fell beneath the blood-soaked sheet as if she sighed. “Let us get to the point, shall we?” she said, each word carried on a jagged, broken breath. “I’m growing quite tired of your theatrics.”

Riding a vicious wave of anger, Savage locked his hands around her throat and smashed her head against the hard stone, causing dust to fall from the flickering overhead lights. “You will tell me how to unleash them!” he roared. “I will drain you within an inch of your life and bring you back, only to do this all over again! You will give me what I seek!”

Savage released his hold, unsheathed the serrated knife from his boot, and drove it deep into the fleshy mound of Meridian’s thigh.

She arched back, her pale blue eyes bulging out of her angelic face. Blood gushed from her leg and pooled on the floor. He stepped both feet into the lake of crimson and tapped his toes, toying with the mess he’d made, then eyed the knife buried deep in her leg. With lightning speed, he grabbed the shaft with both hands and wrenched it around full circle.

Meridian screamed so loud, Savage swore the whole Ever After sat up and took notice. As it should. Good thing these walls were ten-feet thick and made of concrete, brick, and mortar. He could make her scream until her voice box dried up and no one would be the wiser, even in the light of day.

“Tell me what I need to know and this will all be over,” Savage said, his fury temporarily masked beneath layers of calculation.

She swallowed hard, blood gurgling in the back of her throat, and spoke so softly Savage thought he might’ve imagined it. “You will be powerful, my son. You will shed the blood of ones you once loved.” She lifted her chin as if she wanted to say more, but couldn’t. Oh, but he needed to hear more.

Savage closed the space between them, leaning so far over her that the blood from the sheet wet his own shirt. This was it. She was going to spill all her secrets. After that . . . who knew? Maybe he could let her stay here and sweat it out until the end. She could be of use to him. Yes, she might be able to play a role in the grand scheme once she acknowledged who gave her orders from here on out. Prophecies were valuable and hard to come by nowadays. With the hunting of elders for blood money by therians as well as their own twisted kind, many went into hiding. Even if she was blind to his own future, having someone around to predict the paths of his enemies might come in handy, mother or not.

“Mother,” he said, with a slow pulse of his hollow heart. “You don’t have to reveal all your secrets for me to spare your life.” He removed the knife from her thigh and wiped blood from the blade onto his jeans. A sweat-soaked tendril of silver hair stuck to her forehead. He brushed it aside slowly, hooking it behind her ear. “I just need to know a few small things. How do I unleash the
death shades
? Tell me how to thin the veil between this world and the Ever After enough to let them through . . . and tell me how to control them.”

Her expression fell at his words. She was nothing more than a skeleton wearing a blanket of skin now. Gaunt. Lifeless. A shadow of her former powerful self. It was rather pathetic.

“You will meet your ruin, Kane.” She coughed, spattering blood onto her bottom lip. “Do what you will with me . . .” Her eyes fluttered closed as she heaved a labored breath. “I won’t be the one to help you unleash those shadow creatures onto the world.”

Why couldn’t she give him this?
His whole life he’d never asked her for anything. Not compassion. Not loyalty. Not even a mother’s touch when he was abandoned and bounced from one
khiss
to another. Was it so much to ask in his moment of glory, when he was about to make something of himself by unleashing these things, that she give him some latitude? Some information he could use to make himself the great son she’d always dreamed of?

No.

It was clear now she considered herself too high and mighty to ever help the sinful part of her. He was the thorn in her side. The black spot on her record she’d always wanted expunged. The son she’d wanted wiped from the planet. He supposed giving him the one thing he wanted more than anything in the world would be too much to ask. Especially for a bastard son—half vampire, half shape-shifter—that she’d never wanted anyway.

“Then you are useless to me.” Fueled by a hellstorm of emotions, bloodrage being the most ravenous, Savage reared up and sank his fangs into her neck. She gasped as he drew her blood into his mouth with hungry pulls. Electric currents of power gathered at the back of his neck, then scorched down his body like a live wire. When the icy burn of fire dwindled to a buzzing hum, numbness moved in, swallowing his feet, creeping up to his chest, until his head swam with disorientation and his eyes ached. With another hard pull, the room became blindingly bright.

His eyes widened as Meridian’s limitless knowledge poured into his brain like a cascading waterfall.
Too much. It was too much.
His head pounded from the onslaught of wisdom. Stabbing pain pierced his temples.

In a flash, the temperature in the room dropped, chilling him to the bone. He pulled back, wiping the drip of warm blood off his chin. He could feel the change in the room . . . in the metallic taste of her blood. Without explanation or question Savage
knew
what he was seeing next was a vision. The future. Knew it like he had a heart beating strong and lungs breathing air.

In his mind’s eye, everything happened in slow motion.

He was on the outside looking in. Like he was watching a movie reel played out frame by frame. Second by second.

He saw himself unsheathe the dagger in his boot. Raise it up high and stab it down into Meridian’s heart. She arched up, opening her mouth, but he couldn’t hear the screams. Against all laws of the dead or undead, Meridian’s quiet chest heaved, like a balloon being inflated to capacity. As it deflated again, two thick clouds of smoke drifted from her body into the air. But they weren’t plumes of smoke. No.

They were shadows.

Dark and light.

The white shadow, thick and soupy like holy fog, rose up to the sky. It hovered against the ceiling for a moment, shifting into indistinguishable shapes, bubbling at the edges as if to form something new, though not forming anything at all. A moment later it disappeared, leaving the dark one hovering near Savage’s line of sight.

Savage watched closely as the midnight-black shadow seemed to hang in the air before him. Like it was speaking to him. But he couldn’t hear anything.
Why couldn’t he hear?
It was like he was stuck in some sort of premonitory vortex, tunneling out all the sound.

It bubbled and churned, spun endless circles in the air. Hesitating.

In a heart-pounding crash of light and dark, Savage was at Meridian’s neck again. In the present. A smile turned the edges of his mouth as he realized what was about to happen.

With a jolt, he unsheathed his knife, stabbed it between Meridian’s ribs, right through the center of her heart, until the steel of the blade met the stone of the tablet. She arched up, screaming a primal cry that scorched Savage’s ears.

Then just as he saw in the vision, her body heaved. Two shadows escaped her. The light, a soft mist that floated to the ceiling, spread thin to the point he thought he might’ve peered through it.

And the dark . . .

It hovered before him, as heavy as night, as ominous as Death itself. It seethed fear and vengeance with every expansion and contraction of its blanket of black. Savage didn’t know whether the thing was going to suck the breath from his body or cover him like a cloak. Fizzing and hissing with every slow bob and weave in front of him, the
death shade
seemed to hesitate . . . as if . . .
could it be?