The Forsaken

  I rolled my eyes, still keeping my mouth closed. He’d been about to yank a spear out of my side seconds ago—hell, he still was. His bite would be far less painful. But this wasn’t really about hurting me. This was about Andre’s self-control. Between our bond and our natures, things usually got out of hand.

  I made the decision for him. Wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, I brought his face forward until his nose skimmed the skin there. His breath fanned out against me, and I drew in a heady lungful of whatever pheromones Andre was giving off.

  Captivating his prey. That was what he’d called it when he first taught me about drawing blood. Back then I’d been worried that the lust it compelled in me was somehow fake. But there was nothing fake about us. This. Andre could captivate me without the aid of pheromones.

  His mouth widened, and his fangs punctured my flesh. There was an initial twinge of pain, followed by the electric shock of pleasure. My skin lit up at the sensation, and a lazy smile spread across my face. I could die a happy anti-Christ this way.

  Andre groaned against my neck, and he pulled me closer to him. His hands brushed over me as he drank, heightening my pleasure. It felt like I was being touched for the first time.

  I didn’t notice his wandering hand until it was braced against my body. Somewhere deep within me, the remnants of fear stirred. This should hurt; I should be worried. The siren, however, purred at the thought of mingling pain and pleasure, and I leaned into Andre.

  He jerked the spearhead out, and my back arched. On the wave of endorphins that I rode, I only noticed a fuzzy sensation where the wound was. Distantly, I heard him toss the spearhead aside.

  Andre’s fangs retracted, and he kissed the wound he’d inflicted on my neck as I came down.

  My body swayed. He steadied me, his brows furrowing in concern. “Soulmate?”

  “I’m fine. Just feeling …” High. Really, really high.

  Andre cursed, running a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, soulmate. I shouldn’t have drunk from you.”

  Still soaring from the bite and the endorphin rush, I pressed my fingers to his lips to get him to quiet.

  His eyebrows rose.

  “You’re prettier when you’re not talking,” I explained.

  One second I stood in front of him, the next I was thrown over his shoulder.

  “Hey!”

  “I am king of vampires, soulmate. Not something mute and pretty.” He gave my backside a pinch to emphasize his point.

  I yelped. “That is not chill.”

  He lifted the edge of my torn shirt.

  “Okay, Andre,” I said, reaching behind me for his hands, “this crosses a line—” Now that I was really starting to come down, my awareness was returning, and finding myself thrown over Andre’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes was not endearing him to me.

  He touched the tender skin at my back. “It’s still healing,” Andre said, more to himself than to me. His voice, which had sounded playful only a moment before, now held a somber note.

  “Put me down.”

  Making sure not to jostle my wound, Andre slid me off of his shoulder and onto the seat of the motorcycle, his eyes stormy. Again I swayed a little as blood rushed from my head.

  Andre headed towards the trunk and dug out several packages of sweets. A week ago, the sight of them would have my stomach rumbling. Now, however, it twisted on itself. The thought of forcing those down my throat had my gag reflex already warming itself up.

  He handed them to me. “Forgive me for taking your blood. These will help replenish what you’ve lost.” A vertical line formed between his brows, and I realized that Andre worried that my blood was not replenishing quickly enough on its own. That was why he reacted the way he did when I swayed from the comedown. He thought I’d been faint from blood loss.

  “Andre, it’s alright.”

  He shook his head. “Not when we have enemies after you. I just didn’t realize …” His eyes dropped to where my wound had been. It was still sore, when it shouldn’t be.

  He tore his gaze away from my torso to the food in my hands. “I know you’re probably shaken, soulmate, but please try to eat.”

  I stared down at the preservative-riddled cinnamon roll and the two chocolate chip cookies he’d given me. If anything, my stomach was making it clearer now more than ever that it did not want food. But I couldn’t ignore the desperation in Andre’s eyes, and it frightened me. If my situation scared him, then how bad off must I be?

  Before I could think too much on it, I unwrapped one of the packages and shoved the cookie into my mouth. It took a painstaking minute, but finally, with a thick swallow, it slid down my throat. Only the sick taste of sugar remained.

  I just force fed myself a cookie, and I didn’t enjoy it. That was just wrong.

  Andre’s eyes fell to the remaining packages in my hand, but I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” Already, my stomach heaved. I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth in an effort to keep it down.

  It didn’t work.

  I felt myself pale. I dropped the remaining food and ran to the nearest tree. Gripping its trunk, my stomach convulsed until I puked. Even then, it kept spasming until I retched up everything.

  I shook from the aftereffects, feeling faint. Ugh, I was never eating another cookie.

  I didn’t hear Andre approach me, but I felt his hand fall to my back and stroke it soothingly. “It’s alright soulmate,” he murmured, his voice too calm.

  I pinched my eyes shut, afraid of what I’d see in his when I faced him.

  But I heard him move away from me before I had to look. When he returned, his hand rested on my back. “Try this, instead,” he whispered into my ear. I rotated enough to see the blood bag he extended towards me.

  Taking it from him, I placed the straw in my mouth. As soon as the blood hit my mouth, I drank voraciously, like a man dying of thirst.

  Gently Andre led me away from the evidence of my sickness and back towards the bike while I polished off the blood.

  “Feeling better, soulmate?” Andre asked once I finished.

  I nodded as he took the now empty bag from me. He reached into the trunk—presumably for another—when he paused.

  He cocked his head, his eyes unfocused. Suddenly he snapped into action, closing the trunk. He used his abnormal speed to grab my helmet and press it onto my head.

  He patted the seat. “Get on and make sure to hold me tight,” he ordered.

  “Andre, what’s going on?” I asked, hopping onto the seat.

  He swung a leg over and dragged me close to him. “The woods have gone quiet. Something’s coming our way.”

  I threw a glance over my surroundings while Andre revved the engine. I got the vague sense that something lurked out there, but whatever it was, it didn’t have time to sink its talons into me before Andre yanked on the throttle and got us the hell out of there.

  Chapter 7

  We spent most of the night driving, only taking breaks to stretch our legs and rest for short bits of time. We stuck to back roads and rocky terrain whenever we could, making me think that while we’d been in the saddle for hours, we hadn’t moved very far.

  At some point the motorcycle slowed. I peered over Andre’s shoulder at our destination. I caught sight of a wrought iron fence and tombstones.

  What now?

  Andre directed the bike onto the cemetery grounds, and we began to weave between grave markers. Eventually those gave way to crypts, each more ostentatious than the last.

  I stared at them with no little amount of trepidation. A few turns later, Andre pulled the bike in between two of them and killed the engine.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked, removing the helmet.

  “We need to set up camp for the night.” Andre pushed off the bike and began circling some of the nearby tombs.

  Seriously? I glanced around. “But this is a graveyard.”

  “It is.” His hand dragged along the stone, his eyes honing i
n on details I couldn’t see.

  I narrowed my gaze on him. “You suck at picking out places for us to stay.”

  “On the contrary, soulmate,” he said, “I’ve had centuries to memorize those places that are tricky for seers to pinpoint. This is one of them.”

  I turned my frightened eyes to the structure nearest me. Andre hadn’t parked near headstones; he’d stopped right in front of the ones with doors. “I’m going to have to get in there, aren’t I?” Despite having an undead boyfriend and being a step away from death myself, ghosts and graveyards gave me the heebie jeebies.

  A wind blew through the cemetery, making the frosted grass shiver. It ruffled Andre’s hair as he straightened, returning to my side. For a moment, he was almost too much to stare at.

  Andre gave me a small smile. “Don’t tell me that you’re scared of this?”

  My attention turned to the crypt. Even from here I caught a whiff of desiccating bodies. I cringed at the thought of being inside the cramped quarters. The absolute darkness, the chill of stone and earth pressing in on me. That smell wrapping itself around us.

  Andre brushed my hair away from my face. “I’m sorry, soulmate. I never wanted to expose you to the desperate measures vampires sometimes must take.”

  I looked at him skeptically. “You mean you’ve done this before?”

  His jaw tightened. “A few times.”

  I tried to imagine this regal man, an international celebrity in certain circles, slinking into and out of a crypt just as we were about to do, but it was impossible.

  I sighed. “I don’t get a choice, do I?”

  Andre cupped my face. “You always have a choice.” His attention drifted up to the horizon. “But if I am to protect you, then I have no choice.”

  Damn his good intentions. The road to hell was paved with them.

  “Well isn’t this cozy?” I said, rubbing my hands together fifteen minutes later. We were inside one of those blasted crypts, and I couldn’t see for shit.

  I heard the strike of a match, and then a warm orange glow lit up the room as Andre held the small flame in his hand. “The sun will be up soon, soulmate. You will only have to endure this for a few more minutes.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to … Katarina,” I said, reading the placemarker and patting the woman’s stone sarcophagus next to me. A small cloud of dust billowed out beneath my hand, and I made a face as I coughed and waved it away. I really hoped I didn’t just breathe in the remains of my new friend.

  Andre’s eyes crinkled with amusement as he lit a candle he’d packed. He set it atop another stone casket and began setting up our bed once more.

  Once he finished, he sat down amongst the blankets and furs. The sight of them brought back the memory of last night’s intimacy.

  “Come here, my little mate,” Andre said, his eyes flickering in the firelight. “I want to feel you close to me.”

  I moved over to where he was, stretching my body out next to his, and he tucked me snugly into the side of his body. One of his arms arced over my head while the other draped itself over my stomach.

  His presence consumed my thoughts and temporarily drove away my skittishness. But even as I calmed, I sensed his own tumultuous emotions. There was a restlessness to him, lingering just beneath his skin. Andre didn’t panic the way that most people did. Instead he became more protective, more possessive, quicker to draw blood.

  “After tomorrow we should hopefully have to hide less,” he said, interrupting my thoughts.

  “What’s happening tomorrow?” I asked, staring up at the darkness above me.

  “I can’t tell you.”

  Another one of his precautions. I blew out a breath, already tired of being kept in the dark.

  “I will not endanger you again, soulmate. You never should’ve been placed in harm’s way to begin with.”

  I ran a tentative hand over the one that held me close, my brows furrowing at his words. “Endangering me again? What are you talking about, Andre?” I asked. “You’re not playing some weird blame game on yourself, are you?”

  “If I hadn’t scared you away the night of my birthday, you’d never have run to the Politia. And if you hadn’t worked for the Politia, you never would’ve been at the stone circle on Samhain and you would’ve never been in Romania.” The two places the devil had snatched me.

  “Ugh, you are playing the blame game. Andre, the fates have been meddling with my life since I was a baby.” Since before then, if I considered the myths of Hades and Persephone. “Not to mention I’m cursed. It would’ve happened one way or another.”

  Andre didn’t respond. Despite my words the man still blamed himself.

  “I could simply command you to not feel guilty,” I said.

  He rolled his body so that he hovered over me. “If you entertain that thought any longer, I will make sure you can’t talk.”

  “I’m pretty sure that bag of yours doesn’t have duct tape in it.”

  “I wouldn’t have to gag you to quiet your tongue.” The sexual undercurrents of his words heated my skin.

  I cleared my throat. “I won’t glamour you. Pinky promise.”

  He raised his brows, the first stirrings of amusement lighting his face. “‘Pinky promise’? Do I even want to know what that means?”

  “This is a pinky promise—” I grabbed his hand and hooked my little finger through his. I got the impression that he was holding back a laugh.

  I brought my joined hand to my lips and kissed it. “Now it’s your turn.”

  “My turn to do what?” The candlelight threw sensual shadows in the hollows beneath Andre’s cheekbones. The darkness seemed to caress the edges of his lips and painted his brows with heavy strokes. He was exquisite to look at.

  “Kiss your hand.”

  “I am not kissing my hand.” He made it sound like it was beneath him.

  “You have to,” I whispered in the dimly lit room. “That’s how it works.”

  He snatched his hand back. “I’m king of the vampires. I will not make any of these ‘pinky promises.’ The oaths I make are in blood.”

  “Fine. Be a boob.”

  “A boob?” He sounded genuinely offended.

  I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

  Andre growled low in his throat. Grabbing my hand, he pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “There, satisfied, soulmate?” Beneath the annoyance, I could hear mirth in his voice, and that’s all I really wanted—to make the guilt go away.

  Still, Andre sucked at pinky promises.

  I pushed him back down to our makeshift bed and lay back against him. “It’ll have to do.”

  He huffed at my words, but I knew he was just posturing. His amusement had become obvious. His hand played with my hair while we laid in companionable silence.

  Eventually my mind wandered back to the events that unfolded earlier this evening. “What does my blood taste like?” I asked him.

  He fingered a lock of my hair, its ends tickling my cheek. “Ambrosia. Home.”

  “Oh.” His words sank in, warming me from the inside out. Coming from a man who’d lived seven hundred years, that seemed to be saying a lot.

  He turned his face so that his mouth was pressed to my ear. “Don’t tell me that after everything, you’re surprised by this?”

  I stared up at the ceiling. “Sometimes it’s hard to believe, you know?” I said. “I’d always been that girl that other girls hated. The one who never knew her biological parents. The one who never had money.

  “Then I came to Peel and made friends, learned of my family, discovered an inheritance, found my soulmate.”

  I turned to look at him, our noses brushing. It would be so easy to close those last few inches and kiss him. “Even with everything horrible that’s happened to me, sometimes it’s hard to believe all the good that’s come with it.”

  He nuzzled my nose. “I understand.”

  All my attention honed in on Andre. It was hard not to
think of other things … intimate things with him this close.

  We stared at each other, and just like last night, the mood shifted. My skin began to lightly glow, and heat spread through my belly.

  “What about … ?” My voice trailed off. I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence.

  “What about what?” Andre asked, his gaze as intense as ever.

  S-E-X. A short, simple word. After last night, it should’ve been easy to discuss. But my mouth refused to form the words, so instead I coughed. “Um, never mind.”

  The hand that rested over my waist now tightened. “Ah,” he said, his eyebrows lifting. “What did you want to ask?” There was a note to Andre’s voice that I couldn’t place.

  I shook my head.

  “Is this about what we did, or what we haven’t done?” he asked, running the fingers of his other hand through my hair.

  I averted my eyes from his, instead staring at the cobwebbed ceiling. “Forget I asked.”

  “We’re going to have to go over this at some point, soulmate. It might as well be now.”

  He wasn’t going to let this go. Best rip it off like a Band-Aid, nice and quick.

  My gaze reluctantly returned to his. “Will it feel like your bite—or like last night?” I cringed even as I spoke.

  Andre stopped stroking my hair.

  Kill me now.

  After considering my question, Andre resumed stroking my hair. “No,” he said. “It will feel different. Better.”

  At his words, my skin brightened, illuminating all the dark corners of the chamber. My heart sped up until it was throwing itself at my ribcage, trying to break free.

  Maybe this crypt had a small casket I could crawl into and die. I couldn’t remember being this flustered in a long time.

  Andre’s hand moved up between my breasts and rested over that organ that kept me alive, the one that now belonged to him. “If I had known a little scandalous talk would move this thing into action, I would’ve spoken on this subject much sooner.” What he hadn’t mentioned was that he’d already sent it racing yesterday.