Aphrodite's Hunt (10 page)

She almost ran to the door leading from the dining room to the rest of the house, but something made her stop before she made it through the doorway. Her beast ran in circles inside her, fighting with itself. A lupa did not leave a new wolf, not when he obviously needed guidance. Her hand tensed on the doorknob as she fought the urge to turn and look back at Sorin.

“Grigore?” she called out, forcing the words past clenched teeth.

“Yes?”

“Would it be a betrayal of your master to tell me if he has ever changed form before?”

“I can tell you that in the eight years I have been here, I have never seen him in a form other than what you met when you first arrived here.”

That’s not possible.
She forced herself to think back on the change she’d witnessed. As lupa of her pack, there was no way she could mistake a change like that for anything other than a first shift. But that couldn’t be true. A vampire could not be made into a werewolf—the dead were immune to such things. He would have had to be a werewolf before death, in which case he would have been a werewolf for the past eight years and could not possibly have gone that long without changing form. She closed her eyes, trying not to scream in frustration.

“You seemed conflicted, Gia, and rightly so. If I may make one small observation?”

“Anything to get you talking,” Gia muttered, putting her hands to her temples as a raging headache erupted behind her skull.

“You are alpha, lupa of your pack. As I understand it, it is your duty to help new wolves adjust to their circumstances.”

I don’t like where this is going.
“Your point?”

“You cannot tell me you don’t feel the need to help him.”

“He isn’t a werewolf! He’s not my kin, I can’t help him, nor is it my job to help him.”

Grigore just stared at her with that infuriatingly calm expression she’d already grown to associate with him. “So walk out the door.”

Gia’s hand tightened on the knob, desperately willing her body to walk through the doorway. Just a one step would get her out of this room. Just. One. Step.

Four white furry legs greeted Sorin’s eyes as he woke for the night. Startled, he struggled to sit up and find the source of the strange limbs. The sound of claws on cotton tickled his ears, sending a tremor of concern down his spine. His eyes crossed as he noticed a snout protruding from his face. One or two seconds of shock held him frozen in place before the full realization of what had happened dawned on him.

The world around him blurred as he shot to his feet—all four of them. He spun around, panic preventing any coherent thoughts from forming as fear twisted his stomach into knots. Images of blood and death, internal organs spilling from stomachs ripped open by sharp teeth filled his head, chasing him in circles until his entire body trembled. A high whimpering sound filled the air around him and he panicked even more when he realized it was coming from his own throat.

“Shhhhhh. Calm yourself, Sorin.”

A soft feminine voice flowed over him, soothing his frazzled nerves. The tone held confidence and kindness, emotions that broadcasted the message that everything would be all right. He stood still, his body still shaking with confused terror. He was a wolf. A wolf, not a man. What happened? He swallowed hard, the taste of blood making his stomach roll. What had the wolf done?

His gaze found Gia’s face and he stared into her eyes. Calm golden orbs looked back at him and bit by bit his heart started to slow. After a few minutes, his heart rate had become something close to normal.

He whimpered and took a step toward Gia. The sensation of walking on four legs pricked at his nerves and a wave of hysteria threatened to break over him. He stared harder into Gia’s eyes, desperate to escape the panic eating him alive. Her golden eyes offered warmth and peace. Staring into her face filled him with a soft soothing energy. He didn’t know how she was doing it, calming him just by being there, just by looking at him--and he didn’t care. Bit by bit, the panic receded.

He crept closer, his heart singing as she reached out a hand to smooth his fur. She stroked him over and over and every pass of her hand on his back calmed him a little more. She raised her hands to his face and he closed his eyes as she smoothed her hands down his muzzle, past his cheeks, and down his neck.

Ripples flowed over his body. He stretched forward, a warm wet sensation passing over him as if he were diving into a warm pond. As he moved, he felt Gia’s hands sliding down his back and everywhere her hands went, the warm feeling followed. The world swam on peaceful waves around him. When he finally opened his eyes again, pale flesh met his gaze. He stared at his skin.

“I am me again.” His voice sounded dazed even to his own ears. Behind the layer of calm Gia had laid over him, a terrible panic swarmed like a cloud of angry bees. Images of fur danced in front of his eyes and a cold terror held his heart in its icy grip.

The demon had escaped. Somehow it had destroyed the prison inside his mind where he’d locked it away all these years. It was free again and he knew with every fiber of his being that it would not take long for the bodies to start piling up. He could almost smell the decaying flesh now . . .

No! Not again, never again.
He steeled himself against his fear and tried to remember what he’d been doing before the monster had gotten the better of him. Carnal images of Gia’s naked body as he bent her over the table flooded his mind, taunting him with smooth sloping skin and soft curves. Blood filled his cock as sensory images tickled his flesh, reminding him of the pleasure. His fangs ached as he remembered sinking them into the smooth flesh of her thigh, then her neck. She tasted like Heaven . . .

“No more blood.”

Gia’s voice echoed in his mind, dispersing the cloud of arousal and filling him with fear once again. He’d ignored her plea, refused to control his desire. He’d sunk his fangs into her neck, uncaring for her safety and interested only in the thick red sustenance under her skin. She’d tried to escape and . . .

Realization struck like lightening. Horror spiraled up higher and higher until it consumed his mind. Sorin raised his eyes to Gia’s face. It was her. The demon wanted her and when she’d tried to leave, it had torn its way through his flesh to stop her. She was in danger. Macabre images from the past pressed against the mental barriers that held them back. He didn’t want to remember. He didn’t want to relive it. He didn’t want it to happen again . . .

“I know you’re trying to work through some things right now,” Gia began softly. “But if you want me to help you, we need to clear a few things up.”

“The demon wants you,” Sorin whispered. “You have to leave.” Even now he could feel the foul beast prowling inside of him, looking for a chance to escape. No longer a shadow, it now resembled a ghost. Brilliant white fur and bright green eyes stared out at him from a face filled with satisfaction. The wolf was free and he knew with certainty it wouldn’t be banished again without a fight.

Gia’s face hardened and her golden eyes flashed with defiance. “I’m not going anywhere. We have a deal and I’ve
more
than held up my end.”

Panic trembled over his skin, his nerves dancing in the wind of fear. “Gia, I will make it up to you, but you do not understand. You are in danger, I—”

“You’re a werewolf. I know. What I don’t know, is how?”

The calm expression on her face and her refusal to run like a sane woman should only made it harder to control himself. He wanted to scream, to wave his arms and drive her from his home—away from the danger she would be in if she stayed.

“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted. “Please, just release me from our bargain and protect your own life.”

“I’m protecting the life I want. I—”

Sorin didn’t know what she’d been about to say, but something on his face must have gotten to her. Her face softened and she took a deep breath.

“Sorin, I am the lupa of my pack. I’ve helped countless men and women come to terms with their beasts, helped them to protect their humanity in the face of the change.” She stared into his eyes. “Sorin, I can see you’re in pain, and I can help you. I will help you merge your two lives so that they exist in harmony. But you have to tell me what’s going on.” She leaned forward. “How long have you been a werewolf?”

A thousand responses swirled through his head, most of them lies. He didn’t want to talk about this—didn’t want to share his shame with her. The memory of her hands pushing his beast away, freeing his human side to come forward leapt into his mind. Maybe she could help him. Maybe if he told her what she wanted to know, she would help him lock the beast away.

“I am not a werewolf,” he answered finally, forcing the words past dry lips. “I am a
vukodlak
.”

Gia frowned. “What is that?”

He shifted, pulling a sheet into his lap to cover the worst of his nudity. The little gesture of decency made him feel more human.

“I was a werewolf in life. When I died, I rose as a vampire.”

“How were you turned? Werewolves are immune to vampiric infection.”

He didn’t like the term “infection,” but he let it go. “I was not ‘turned.’ I was born a
vukodlak
. The transformation to a vampire after death is just another part of who I am.”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that.” Her eyebrows furrowed as if she were turning the information over in her mind, weighing his words. “So are you still a werewolf?”

Werewolf, werewolf, werewolf. God, how he hated that word. Anger welled up inside him and he glared at her. “What exactly is the point to all these questions? You’ve seen my monster’s form, what else is there to being a werewolf?”

Gia’s eyes narrowed and the golden orbs flashed. She fixed him with a look that could have withered crops and when she spoke her anger echoed in her words like thunder.

“Any idiot with a grimoire can take on the form of a
monster
.” The accusing way she said it made it clear what she thought of his word choice. “A werewolf is the best of man and beast. We’re closer to nature, less corrupted than ordinary humans, and yet we have the heads and the hearts to love and think beyond an animal’s capacity. We form packs that are stronger than most families and we support one another in all things.”

She paused as if something had just occurred to her. Sorin crossed his arms, struggling to avoid pissing her off any further. He wanted her help and telling her what he really thought of her kind wouldn’t help his cause.

“What happened to your pack? I mean, do
vukodlaks
have packs?”

Her question caught him off guard. Images crept through his mind, faces of people he thought he’d forgotten long ago. Some human, some wolves, all familiar and all dear to his heart. Nostalgia raised a lump in his throat. He hadn’t thought about them in so long.

A feeling of loss stole over his body, squeezing his heart until tears threatened to form. He fought it briefly, but it was no use. The chaos of the previous day had taken its toll and he was helpless against the emotions that assailed him now.

“I had a pack,” he said softly.

“Were they all
vukodlaks
too?”

Sorin shook his head, still entangled in the ghostly arms of the past. “No. I was the only one. The rest were
vrykolakas
. Werewolves.”

Gia stared at him and he could practically see the wheels turning in her head.

“You don’t have a pack now.”

He shook his head again. A strange emotion wrapped its hands around his throat and began to squeeze.

“Do all
vukodlaks
choose to live solitary lives away from their original packs?”

Her question brought a gravely voice roaring back from his past. An icy chill ran down his spine as his voice from long ago echoed in his mind.

“Where is my pack?”

The vampire’s face contorted into a mask of disgust. “Your pack? Your pack? Are you an animal, a beast to roam the wild urinating on trees and savaging livestock?”

His sire drew himself up so that he towered over his new charge. The grandfather clock against the wall seemed painfully loud in the cavernous room of his mansion home, ticking away the seconds with no care for the chaos going on inside. The vampire glared at the spot where Sorin crouched on the floor, still covered in the dirt from his grave.