Vampire Forgotten (7 page)

“You came to me,” he reminded her.

She didn’t look back.  “Excellent.  Keep reminding me that you found me draped across your front steps. It’s so helpful.” Another chill worked its way down her spine, and she swore she caught the scent of charred wood in the air.

Burning pine. It brought back memories, more than she cared to relive, but the images wouldn’t cease. Brilliant, vibrant pictures of the summers she’d spent with her parents on these very mountains.

“I was only stating the truth.”

“And you’ve done so repetitively. Enough is enough.” She froze, one foot hovering in the air. “I was drinking a glass of wine.”

“What? When?”

“In the hotel.”

He approached her at an even pace, coming to a halt when she was within arm’s reach.  “Your memory is returning.”

“I don’t think I had amnesia.”

“You can be sure of this?”

She hated the superior tone of his voice.  “Look, can we just get on with this mountain hike and, for your sake,” she waggled a finger in warning, “we’d better find my sister in this God-forsaken village, or I’m going to be putting that Internet course to work.”           

Rhad laughed, and the sound startled her.

“You have a nice laugh,” she said suddenly.

He ran his knuckles down her cheek.  “I am glad you came back to Romania, Mischa Bonovich.”

Hamrick’s security team had really come through for him. They’d cracked into Mischa Bonovich’s laptop back in Boston and found a name—Rhad Valentine. And not surprisingly, the guy lived in Romania.

The mention of the guy’s name had the tour guide sweating like a fat girl on a crowded bus, though. He’d begun babbling about the money not being important and, after dumping Hamrick off at a stately castle, he’d laid fifty feet of rubber making a quick exit.

The guy didn’t know anything about fear. Facing his own mortality, Hamrick had come face to face with the feeling. Now, he figured there weren’t too many things that could scare him. 

She knew she was testing the Council’s patience, but Rianna couldn’t just walk away from her sister. They shared a bond that even death couldn’t break.

And now, as her feet touched the soggy ground, she watched Rhad Valentine walking at her sister’s side. Her suspicions tripled. How could the vampire not want to take Mischa’s blood? And would Mischa stay on her guard no matter what Rhad said?

“Don’t turn your back on him, Sis,” she whispered as the wind kicked up to stir the air around her.

“Rianna, have you not been listening?”

Her grandfather’s admonishing voice startled her, and Rianna spun around. “You like doing that, don’t you?”

“As much as you like breaking the rules.”

“You can’t expect me to not keep an eye on this vampire. Mischa is a lot different than I am. She might be able to take care of herself physically, but emotionally, well, she can be too trusting sometimes. Although,” she tipped her head to one side, “I don’t suppose my lack of trust really  matters considering I still ended up dead, didn’t I?”

The shaman winced, the twinkle in his eyes dimming. “If such a tragedy had to occur, I am grateful you do not have to endure it alone.”

Rianna hooked her arm through her grandfather’s and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Do you think the vampire knows that Hamrick is looking for Mischa?”

“Perhaps not, but he will soon enough.” Before Rianna could say anything more, her grandfather touched two fingers to her lips. “And that is enough for this evening, Rianna. We should return to the Realm. Each time you leave, you risk your own freedom.”

It was Rianna’s turn to snort. “If you can call this freedom.”

“My dear, you don’t know what lack of freedom is. For it is not you that has been bound.” He looked away from her, his eyes taking on a faraway gaze. “But I remember one who was.”

Ten years in the past

“You should not take this lightly, my son.”  The shaman’s voice captured and held Rhad’s attention.  It mesmerized, hypnotized, and demanded an audience. 

The aging man sat in the center of the tent, his legs folded beneath him.  Wearing a brown, tattered robe, he rolled his shoulders forward as he tended the fire in front of him.  His gray beard reached almost to the center of his chest, and when he waved one hand toward Rhad, his knuckles were gnarled and painfully swollen.

Rhad answered the unspoken invitation and sank to the ground opposite the shaman.  He’d traveled for many days to find the one medicine man that would hopefully put his life to rights. 

The shaman folded his hands together as if in prayer and lowered his head.  “Are you aware of what is involved in this process?”

Rhad had read much about it, but he knew words on paper would not do the agony justice.   “I am, Shaman.”

“Why not end your life rather than live it out as a creature of the night?”

The words stabbed Rhad in the center of the heart which used to beat.  “This was not my choice.  I will not give into death because my life has now changed.”

The shaman’s lips parted, revealing teeth startlingly white for such rural surroundings.  “Ah, yes.  You have always been a determined one.  You remind me much of my granddaughters.”  For a moment, his eyes glazed over before he brought himself back to the present.  He lowered his lids and fell into silent contemplation.

Rhad knew better than to rush the medicine man, but inside, the need to feed his hunger grew by leaps and bounds.  Even the shaman was not safe as long as the creature prowled within him.  “Shaman, this is something I need to do. I cannot survive without blood, but I will not take it from humans. Only you can take away this craving.”

The elderly man held up one hand.  “I am aware of that, my son.”  He opened his eyes, and Rhad saw the sheen of tears.  “There will be pain.”

Rhad gritted his teeth and nodded his acceptance.

“Then we will begin.”

Rhad woke up before the sun had fully sunk behind the mountains, sweat dripping from every pore in his body.  He sat up on the ground and draped one arm over his knee. 

“Are you okay?”  Mischa’s soft voice reached him out of the dusk.

He attempted to force the nightmarish memories from his mind before answering her.  “I’m fine.” 

Rustling noises reached his ears and then Mischa crawled toward him.  He eyed her warily.  “What are you doing?”

She wiggled in between his body and the wall.  “You certainly don’t sound like you’re fine. Besides that, it doesn’t look like you plan on going back to sleep any time soon, and I already had a nap. It’s hard for me to sleep during the day anyway.”

He smelled her skin.  Not her blood.  The intoxicating scent of her woman’s skin.  His pants became painfully tight.  “You should try to sleep more.” How could he tell her that he desperately needed her to sleep more?

“Why?  Do you want to go back to sleep?” 

Rhad dragged one hand through his hair and thought about lying to her.  “It’s up to you.   Night will be upon us soon.  We can leave then.”

Mischa touched his arm and the muscles jumped.  “Was it a bad dream?”

He barely flicked a glance her way.  “What are you talking about?” The question was only a stall for time. He just wished it had been a dream, a simple scroll of images brought on by an overactive imagination.

“You were screaming.”

“I don’t recall screaming.” Though he imagined he had. That time was burned into his mind.

“You always recall your responses to your nightmares?”

Rhad chuckled though the last thing he felt like doing was laughing. But he had to get Mischa off the subject of his memories. “Good point.”

He relaxed back against the stone wall.  They’d taken shelter inside a cave carved inside the wall of a monstrous mountain.  Its ancient walls bore secrets it would take an archaeologist years to uncover, and its floor told the tale of other visitors.  Badly constructed fires, candy paper wrappers, and empty beer cans littered the ground. 

Rhad had moved them farther inside to protect them from the elements and the possibility of any vampire hunters.  Romania was rife with them at this time of the year, and he doubted they’d care about his aversion to human blood—an aversion which hadn’t come without a price. 

“Hey.”  Mischa bumped his shoulder with hers.  “You still in this conversation?”

He placed his hand on her leg, surprising both of them, but he didn’t remove it.  Though she still wore her jeans, the heat of her skin felt good beneath his palm, taut and muscular.  “It’s probably best if you go back to sleep, Mischa.”

“Why? Are you going to do something I’m not supposed to see, like change into a bat or something?”

“That’s a myth.” He practically ground out the words.

Her teeth nibbled her lower lip, and sweat popped out on the back of Rhad’s neck. “Really? I always thought vampires could change into bats.  Hmmm.”

Her scent intoxicated him, lowering his defenses. No, not true. His defenses had crumbled the moment he’d seen her on his doorstep. Now, he was spiraling out of control.

A lock of black hair fell across her eyes, and Rhad couldn’t resist the invitation to tuck it back behind her ear. She shivered as his fingers caressed the line of her jaw.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” The whispered words seemed to echo off the walls of the cave.

Her lashes drooped, and he heard the slight intake of her breath. “Is this conversation going to take us somewhere we shouldn’t go?”

He palmed her cheek. “That would depend on why you think we shouldn’t.”

“Don’t you?” The words came out on a whisper.

“I think we should go wherever the moment takes us.” He leaned in to graze the curve of her neck with his lips. “You taste like honey.”

The shiver was more pronounced this time. “Why do you have this effect on me?” One hand came up and curled around his wrist. “I can’t seem to think straight when you’re next to me.”

“It’s my amazing powers,” he whispered in her ear before gently nipping the lobe.

“Could be,” she breathed out, sliding her hand along his forearm.

He slid his fingertips along her neckline.  “Do you want me to stop? You only have to ask.”

Mischa pushed back from him, and he had his answer.  With simple, deft moves, she slipped her blouse off her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the stony ground. 

The connection between them grew even stronger, intensified until his world became all about her. Needing a taste of her sweet lips, he lowered his head and touched her mouth.

Mischa’s hands framed his face, her tongue licking at the corners of his mouth in a provocative feline fashion.  “I think we’re both in agreement then.”

The husky tone sent shivers down his spine and made him all too aware of what this time with her promised—one long afternoon where the wind blew cool air over their heated bodies, and they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, smelling of sex, too exhausted to move.

But one time wouldn’t be enough. No matter how much he wanted more, though, he couldn’t take it. His life was not a normal one.  He had nothing to offer a woman.  He could promise nothing.  Not even his heart.

Chapter Four

Ten years ago

The stone slab cooled his naked back, and with his arms strapped at his sides, Rhad couldn’t move.  He closed his eyes as the shaman approached, reciting healing words over and over in his head.

The shaman had warned him of the pain, the blind agony which would transport him to another realm, sweeping away his memories, his focus.  But the medicine man hadn’t prepared him for the darkness, the helplessness, and the paralyzing fear as the first needle invaded his body.

The pain began as a slow, torturous journey into agony.  His soul balked at the foreign body invading its space.  Torn asunder, the thin veil which made him who he was rippled and swayed, its edges frayed and irreparable. 

Rhad screamed aloud, his body bucking off the stone, his molars grinding together until his jaws ached.  His hands clenched at his sides, and every muscle in his body strained.  Blue veins bulged in his neck, and Rhad could see himself, the ripples cascading from his chest to his abdomen.

Standing outside his own body, he watched the shaman moving around the table, inserting needles and touching the heated pokers to his skin time and again until Rhad’s voice grew hoarse from his own cries. 

“You will never be human,” the shaman’s words echoed eerily.  “But you will not drink the blood you abhor. A vampire you must be. A killer you shall not.” Then, he began to circle the table, sprinkling sparkling dust and chanting as he moved. “From hence forth, you will not crave that which you cannot have. When you awaken, you will no longer desire the taste of mortal blood nor will you ever allow it to touch your lips.”