Feral: Book One (9 page)

“Have you ever killed before?”

“Yes. Early in my existence, I was unable to control my intake, and I would kill.”

“When was the last time you killed a human? How many have you killed?”

“Twenty-seven years ago. And in the six hundred-plus years I have been alive, approximately two hundred, and most of those being in my first few years as an incubus.”

“I see,” I muttered, almost beneath my breath, feeling overwhelmed. “I need a few minutes. I need to think. Please?”

“Certo.
Certainly,
”
 he said with little emotion. “I will leave you to your thoughts. If you wish to leave, I will not keep you. Call for me if you wish to speak.”

He disappeared, and I was left to an unending stream of thoughts, concern, questions.

Simon had taken the lives of humans. He was a killer. Could I really accept that? It wasn’t like he was some psychopath killing for twisted gratification. He was a vampire. Was there a difference between him feeding from human beings, and human beings taking the life of innocent animals? After all, human beings were, at our very core, animals—mammals, if one wanted to get technical about the issue.

I supposed the bigger question wasn’t whether or not I could accept his being a vampire and his having taken the lives of others, but whether or not I could accept breaking off my relationship with Simon and not having him in my own. And in the end, the answer was no. I couldn’t envision altering our relationship in any way, because I knew something would be missing, something that would mean I was less joyful, content, fulfilled.

I was also having difficulties interpreting what mate meant, and I could not imagine that it would be an easy thing to integrate into my vocabulary, though it seemed I might have to. What did that mean? Was it just their term for… what? Lover? Partner? Wife? Surely it wasn’t the latter. I mean, I could only think of two things when it came to the word mate, and that was animals or the European term for friends. Of course, I had heard a phrase before about how wolves mate for life, so… maybe for vampires the term was equal to life-partners?

I really did have a lot of questions to ask. 

Regardless of the fact he would hear me calling him, I made my way to the living room where I speculated he was waiting, and sure enough, I was right.

He rose when I entered the room and stopped a few feet away, leaning against the wall closest to me.

“I have to ask you some questions,” I stated firmly, “and I’m not sure how. I’m going to feel pretty stupid if I’m wrong, but why are you telling me this? I mean, if I were someone unimportant, why would you
need
to tell me… y’know? I can’t see how my knowing Cole would have any weight on whether or not you told me any of this, unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless I’m wrong in my thinking.”

“And what,
amore mio,
are you thinking?”

“I’d rather not say, in case I’m wrong.”

“You would not be.”

Once again, I found myself temporarily short of breath. “Mates—what does that mean? If I’m your mate, does that mean… I mean, will you be… Will there be others?” I managed to choke out while trying to ignore the heat that spread from my face down my neck.

“It means you are mine and I am yours, and if you chose to mate with me, I would be bound to you and you alone.”

It was succinct, to the point, and sounded very final, and I wasn’t positive why I was okay with this. “I, um…” I swallowed nervously. “I’m sorry. My thoughts are pretty scattered right now, and I really don’t know what to say or ask next.”

“It is quite all right. I suspect there is absolutely no circumstance in which telling a person that vampires do exist is normal. I would never expect you to be anything more than overwhelmed, to have a million questions. Indeed, I would be quite surprised if your thoughts were in perfect order.” He offered me a small smile of reassurance. “Please. Take all the time you need, and ask whatever questions you have.”

“Why aren’t you cold?”

“Am I not?” he shot back, a look of amusement written on his face.

“Well, a little,” I responded embarrassedly. “But it’s not like you’re a block of ice. I thought vampires were supposed to be as cold as death, or something equally and dramatically poetic.”

“Again, 
amore,
 it depends on the breed. Strigois and vetalas most certainly are. The moroi have rather chilly body temperatures, as do the pischachas. Sexual vampires, however cool to the touch, are the warmest of the breeds.

“A vampire’s temperature depends on what they feed upon,” he said in much the same manner one would expect a physician to discuss clinical aspects of any given disease. “The strigoi and vetalas are purely psychic vampires, meaning they feed solely on energy. No blood, no physical life. Vampires like the moroi are exactly the opposite. They are solely blood drinkers.

“Now, it is said that blood is the life, and that is true to an extent. There is energy within blood, but it is limited. Hence, they are slightly warmer than psychic vampires, though not by much.”

“And being an incubus, you drink both—the physical and spiritual elements combined being more fulfilling.” I concluded. “But how is it other breeds survive without both?”

“That
 is something I have spent, and am still spending, a great deal of time trying to determine. As far as I have been able to tell, it has something to do with the components of the different viruses that make up the disease of vampirism.” He grinned. “However, it is difficult getting other breeds to comply with being tested when we all have a mutual dislike for the other.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Despite the early hour, I already felt a headache developing, and I was beginning to give out underneath the information and emotions. I really did not want to have to think of anything too complicated at the time, so I simply said the first easy thing that popped into my mind. “Is Simon your real name?”

“Simon is not my birth name, but it
is
my legal name currently. I was born Simundos Benasuti Geragio to Girardus Alviso Geragio,
Marchese de Treviso
in 1402. I guess it goes without saying as to where.”

“You’re aristocracy.”

“Yes.”

“You said your father’s name. Why not your mother’s?” His eyes hardened so suddenly, so darkly that I winced and stuttered. “I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t…I’m sorry.” I bowed my head and almost instantly felt his fingers beneath my chin, lifting my face back to his.

“Cara,
I am not angry with you, if that is what you are thinking, and I know it is. It is simply that thinking of my mother, and indeed my father, brings to mind unpleasant memories.” He sighed. “But to answer your question in short, I was the product of infidelity on my father’s part, and as his wife could not give him an heir, I was the alternate to the son he truly wanted but would never have.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,” I responded softly, feeling guilt welling up.

“No, per favore
. Please, do not be. It is in the past.”

I stayed silent for a while, trying to beat my remorse into submission, finally succeeding and blurting out, “You’re old.”

“Indeed. I have lived lifetimes, mostly in peace, but always with blood on my hands,” he said with gravity as he moved closer. “Would you now dare challenge me to kiss you, given what you have learned of me?”

“Yes.”

Now why did I say that?

The question was swept from my mind as he dipped his face closer.

His lips were not as cold as I would’ve imagined a vampire’s being. Then again, while I’d never known him to be 
warm
, he certainly had never been icy. A little on the chilly side, yes, but not 
freezing
. I had always assumed he had some sort of circulation problem, which usually resulted in cool extremities, but it seemed I was wrong in my presumption as to why he was always less-than-warm.

I didn’t have much time to reflect on the subject as his cool lips ghosted over and parted mine ever-so-gently, his tongue tracing the seam of my upper lip before delving inside and allowing me to finally taste him.

I waited for my mind to begin screaming in alarm, for my body to begin fighting against him in panic, but it never happened. My mind went pleasantly numb, save for any thoughts of him, and instead of struggling, my body swayed closer.

I was so lost in his delicious kiss that I didn’t hear a deep growl or the sounds of wood and dry wall splintering and cracking around me. Before I could even comprehend what had happened, I felt my face slamming into a rough, unforgiving surface, and a twinge of terror welled up as I watched the world around me fade to black.

When I came to, I blinked against the light being aimed at me. I tried to back away from the painful sensation it evoked in my eyes, but unfortunately, my hasty movements only increased my discomfort and made my stomach clench. I groaned and flopped back onto whatever I was laying on, and winced when my head touched what I was sure was a pillow.

The last thing I could remember was kissing Simon, so what the hell happened? Had he attacked me?

“No,” I heard a gentle voice reply to the words I’d not realized I had asked aloud until then. “I could never hurt you, even if I tried.”

It took a few moments for my eyes to focus, but when they did, I found a familiar face staring down at me. “Simon.” I naturally mimicked his small smile. “What happened?” I took in the dark, cobalt walls and bookshelves. “Where am I?”

“The library.”

“Oh.” I closed my eyes, shutting out the diffused light that aggravated my throbbing headache. “You
would
have a library.”

“Infatti.”

“Infatti,”
I repeated before inquiring him as to what happened.

“Sofia,” he started hesitantly, “I am not certain you will take this news well, particularly given what has just occurred.”

“You mean me being attacked in your home?”

“Yes.”

I tried to open my eyes and shut them directly. “Can you please do something about the light? It hurts.” A distressing thought entered my mind. “Oh my God! Don’t tell me I’m a vampire and this is the excruciating way we wake up.”

Evidently, the attack had managed to deprive me of some brain cells. It 
was
 common knowledge that the human brain could sustain damage if it was smacked against the inside of its bony shelter. Maybe I’d just hit harder than I had imagined.

He chuckled, during which I heard a click and could see the light disappear through my lids. “No, you are still very much human, albeit a rather battered human at the present, but human nonetheless.”

“Tell me,” I demanded simply, finally able to open my eyes without wanting to claw them out.

“If you insist, though I warn you, it may cause you some grief.”

I briefly wanted to go back to sleep and not wake up, particularly when awareness of who it was that probably assaulted me dawned. “Cole.”

“Yes, but the attack was not directed at you. He was attempting to initiate a fight with me,” he replied sympathetically. One of his hands came to rest on my now-loosened curls, his fingers tightening and relaxing to tenderly massage my aching head. “Unfortunately, you were simply caught between a new male endeavoring to challenge an older male for his mate.”

“Challenge?”

“Sì.
He was attempting to… take you from me.”

I was not entirely sure what to say at the moment, and I voiced my muddled thoughts.

“You do not have to say anything, 
amore. 
It is, as you said before, quite a bit to take in. If you would like to rest, I can take you to my room, but I will only let you sleep if you let me check you for a concussion.”

I was exhausted, but given how sensitive I seemed to be to light at the time, I knew it was a good idea.

When he was done, he offered a melancholy smile. “Amazingly, you do not have a one, but I imagine you probably have an ungodly headache. You should probably take something. I actually have a few pills of Tylenol-three, so that should take away most of the pain and let you sleep. Is there something other than water I can bring you?”

“I guess you wouldn’t happen to have chocolate milk?” I watched his eyebrows nearly disappear into his coffee hair line. “Yeah, I know it’s silly, but I like it. Um, thank you.”

The man just admitted to being a killer, and I was asking him for chocolate milk. While I longed to believe this was the strangest dream of my life, I had the distinct feeling it was very real, however far-fetched, and that my life was about to become very complicated.

“Please, do not thank me for taking care of you,” he said. “I only wish for your sake that it was not necessary. I can assure you my plans for this evening were not to be attending to your aches and bruises, for which I apologize immensely. Indeed, I am very surprised that you have not entered a full-blown panic and demanded to be taken home.”

“Too tired,” I managed to breathe out through a labored laugh. “Maybe tomorrow.”