Limerence II (2 page)

“Thanks.” I smile wider this time and hurry to a table by the window. I want to sit and enjoy the sun on my face whilst I drink. It’s cold out, but the sun still rises each day in retaliation of the coming winter.

The first sip is always the best. That first millisecond when the blood touches your taste buds is as if every one of my senses are being caressed by the hand of God. Every stroke, every touch awakens my very soul, devouring my body from the inside out—though without doubt, not by any God I know of.

I stare at the blood for a moment, watching the gentle waves of red caress the sides of the thin glass, almost teasing myself, and then I bring it to my lips. The smell makes my face flush; like an ocean breeze, the wave caresses my skin. I lift it to my lips, tipping it a fraction until the blood drips, in what seems like slow motion, on to the tip of my tongue as the world freezes around me in expectancy. The fire ignites instantaneously within me upon that one drop, my eyes blurring upon the heady satisfaction, and I tip the glass further and swallow the entire meal down eagerly. I can’t stop the moan of pleasure that leaves me, nor the way my mind spins in the intoxication of the blood. I feel ethereal, glowing from the inside out, as I seem to leave my body and mind before coming back down to earth with a satisfied sigh. It’s warm and magnificent, and when I’m finished I pick up my glass and stroll back over to Donny with a grin on my face, feeling relaxed and calm once more.

“Melon?” I ask, my head tipping to one side.

“Ha ha, yes, melon. How do you do it? You always get it right,” he laughs and claps his hands together. Mad Donny is what the others call him. Mad for his crazy concoctions or mad for how he had been in his human life, I will probably never know.

“Not always.” I laugh back and hand him my glass.

“When? When did you not guess correctly?” He rubs a finger around the inside rim of the glass and then sucks greedily on his fat finger, not letting any of the blood go to waste.

I think for a moment, letting my mind go back several weeks. “The pizza. I didn’t recognise the pizza.” Yes, I’ve already started to forget the taste of some things—pizza being one of them.

“That’s true, though no one guessed correctly that day. It was hard to get the flavour of pizza into their blood you know?” He smiles again. “More?”

I look at the man sat in the chair. His skin is still so full of colour, his lips plump but blue, but it’s his eyes that give it away. The faraway look in his eyes, as if he’s already dead. Maybe he is, it’s just that his body hasn’t given up on him yet. It’s sad, really. A sad, pathetic end to what was once, more than likely, a very happy life. I know that I should feel remorse for this life, but when his sacrifice brings life to so many others, how can I feel sorrow for him?

I nod with a wide smile. “Yes please. This one tastes good. I’ll have the melon again.”

I watch as he uncorks the human and the sweet nectar trickles from his wrist and into my glass. I feel better now that I’ve had some fresh blood inside me, my senses alive, feeling almost on fire.

“Why do you flavour them, Donny?” I ask with wonder.

He pours himself a glass and slowly turns to me. His smile is wide—cheeky, almost—and I feel myself grin back at him. “Some of the vampires here . . .” He hands me my glass and gestures to the end of the counter. I follow him quizzically as he continues. “Some of the vampires here don’t like who they are—yet. They still have some old memories that they are grasping on to. Some semblance of their humanity remains.” He sips the blood, his little pinkie sticking out like we are in a Jane Austen novel. His eyes are closed, and for a moment I wonder if he has forgotten that I am there—until he opens his eyes again. “The flavour of the blood, Mia, is a comfort. It reminds them of home, of a previous life, and that they can belong again. It stops them resisting it, and as such helps them change.”

I look down at my blood, feeling the heat through the thin glass. “But doesn’t the memory of home make them feel worse?” My thoughts go back to my own past life. Because that’s what it is: a past life.

Donny looks at me, his cheeks flushed with fresh blood. It makes me thirsty and I down my own glass of blood in one very unladylike gulp.

He smiles again. “It makes them weaker, it makes them let go and give in to their vampires. For some vampires, control is the key to survival. For others, they must let go to rid themselves of their past lives and finally be free enough to enjoy all that this life has to offer.”

Donny’s aura is swimming with a mixture of complicated colours that I can’t keep track of. He smiles a knowing smile and takes my glass. “Not everyone wants this life—not everyone enjoys it. But there is so much to enjoy, Mia.” He turns and heads back to the counter.

I watch after him as he serves someone else. I love this life. I love the blood, the power, the beauty, and strength that this world—this life—offers me, and I wouldn’t change it for anything. The thought that someone would turn this all down is baffling. That doesn’t mean I don’t find this new life frustrating, but this power is something I wouldn’t give up for anything or anyone.

Dark clouds pass
over the hills, a rolling thunder following in their wake. I see the brightly coloured auras of so many animals and vampires moving around our home. I watch them all, some fast, some slow, some the colour of fear, and others a mixture of raw passion and hatred all mixed into one. The colours are dashingly beautiful against the backdrop of the thunderstorm. Maybe the image would even take my breath away—if I had any breath to take, that is.

I sigh. I want to go out. I want to run around free like them—like the other vampires. Hell, I’ll take running around like rabbit right now. I just want out. I’ve been confined to my new home since I arrived, and it just sucks. I climb back in off the roof as droplets begin to fall from the sky.

I feel full and sated, yet the vampire in me is awake and she’s as tetchy as I am right now. She stretches out, unfurling her long legs with a lazy smile. I see her, deep inside me: me, but a separate part of me. A darker me, which needs to be suppressed and held at bay. Evan says I can’t control her yet, that I’m not strong enough, and he’s right. I feel her strengthening each day, whereas my will to contain her constantly wavers.
She
wouldn’t let herself be contained like this.
She
wouldn’t stay inside when everyone else was outside having fun.

I sit at my desk, staring at my reflection. My shiny black hair cascades down my back like a waterfall; my eyes shine; my skin is like soft velvet and smooth like cream. And there she is: I see her looking back at me through my eyes, whispering, and asking to be let out to play. The ache for release is so close and, at times like this, the hardest to resist. My fangs pierce my lip and blood drips from the puncture marks, which heal almost instantly, but leave a trail of deep red down my chin. I stare, mesmerised by it.

A knock at the door wakes me from my self-imposed trance and I jump, startled, and shoo her away.

“Go away,” I whisper. She smiles at me again, happy to have been noticed and to have caused me to draw blood, even if it was my own. “Go away,” I whisper again.

“Mia?” Evan’s voice, thick with worry. “Mia, open the door.” He knocks again and I stand to answer it, his knocks becoming all the more urgent until I finally open the door.

“What?” I snap.

Evan looks over my shoulder. “Who were you talking to?” His hand reaches out to stroke up the blood from my lip and chin. “What did you do?” He licks his thumb absentmindedly, tasting my blood, and I see a shudder run through him. “Was it
her
?”

I nod and look away, shame flushing my face that I let her control me.

“She’s getting stronger. You need to control her better,” he says, his mouth a thin line of frustration.

“Stating the obvious, Evan,” I snap.

“You can’t let her gain control. She’s powerful, but you are more powerful, and if she controls you both—well, I don’t want to think what would happen,” he says darkly.

“What would happen? Seriously, what would be so bad about letting her control me? I’m tired of all of this—of being stuck inside, of being told what to do. I need something more. I need to do something with all this power that I have. Training for nothing isn’t cutting it anymore.” I storm into my room to stand by my window, gazing out upon the hazy colours again. “I just want to let go, can you understand that? I just want to feel free.”

“Mia, to lose yourself to your vampire would be…” I feel him behind me; his fingers graze my hair. “A great loss.” His voice is husky, and I close my eyes to the sadness I hear within his words. “Not just for the vampire race, and this coven, but for . . .” His words trail off.

I know if I turn to look at him, I will see his emotions laid bare for me to see. His aura will give away everything he is thinking. So I stay as I am, my eyes closed, my stomach knotted in mixed emotions for what seems like an undeterminable amount of time. I trust Evan with my life, and I trust him to guide me the correct way.

“Besides, it is of our queen’s orders that we restrain our inner vampires at all costs. No exception. At the cost of death be your release.” He presses the issue.

I feel her pouting within.

“Mia?” His breath is on the back of my neck.

“Yes?” I murmur back, almost afraid to speak, my eyes still closed, making the moment even more intimate. Like a lover kissing my neck, his voice seduces me.

His hands clasp either arm and he turns me towards him, slowly, deliberately. My thoughts mush and blend into one until I can barely think straight, and it is the most delicious feeling. He clears his throat. “We’re going out tonight—under my supervision, of course.”

I open my eyes. “Out?”

“Out,” he replies.

“Really?”

“Really. Now stop repeating everything I say.” His serious face breaks out into a handsome smile. “But you must do as I say at all times.”

“Of course.” I smile widely, as if I’d do anything but what I’m told.

“No matter what,” he warns, his smile fading.

“Shut up. So where are we going?” Thoughts of my previous question slip to the back of my mind, and
she
pouts at me again.

“Just in the woods, around the coven, maybe up to the lake. And if you’re good . . .” his fingers touch the bottom of my chin and he tilts my face up so our eyes meet. “Next time, maybe into the small town a little north of here.”

I don’t know if he wanted me to look into his eyes so I would grasp how important this all was, or because he wanted to check that I was back in control—that I was me. Either way, our eyes locked on each other’s like this only ever has one effect on me. Lust, raw and powerful washes over me, making me want to groan from the pressure building inside of me—the excitement of leaving the coven and going outside a second thought to that of having this man naked in my bed.

“Mia.” Evan says my name, but the way he says it makes me think that once again he knows how I’m feeling. “We need to go.” His voice has dropped low, husky, and with an almost desperate, hungry need to it. One hand still clasps my arm, his fingers pressing into my skin.

“So let’s go.” I say the words almost as a dare, feeling strangely flirtatious, though I don’t move to go anywhere.

“Mia?”

“That’s my name.” I raise an eyebrow, my hand wrapping around his, which still holds my chin gently. My lips part and my tongue washes over them. I hear him swallow and it only serves to make my stomach quiver and roll at the thought of him wanting me.

“This isn’t you.” He says the words, but he’s unsure of them—but I’m not. I know he’s right: my lust for him is real—too real. But he’s my trainer and I can normally contain it, because I know that anything between us is forbidden. However, right now,
she
is using my own desires against me.

“Damn it,” I hiss, hearing
her
cackle with glee. “I’m sorry.” I pull away from him.

He looks at me, unsure, and then shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. I should also be better in control.” His jaw grinds, and he cracks his knuckles on reflex. “Come on, you can still go out. That wasn’t your fault.”

“Even though I’m not in control?” I say sulkily, watching his dark grey aura dance around him. It’s flecked with reds every now and then, and I know that he felt some of what I want. I know that he wants me like I want him, but neither of us will cross that line.

“You are.
She’s
just toying with you—with us—and you need a night off. It will probably be good for you, and bad for her.” He smiles, but I can see the flush still in his cheeks and guilt washes over me again.

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” I smile shyly, feeling more like my old self.

He nods and takes my hand, pulling me from the room. “But you have to promise to be a good girl,” he laughs as he closes my door behind me, never letting go of my hand.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” I laugh back.

*

I take a second to let the outside world readjust around me, my senses stretching out and retracting back, much like an elastic band ready to be flicked into freedom. I jump, excitement bubbling through me. For months I’ve sat on the little flat roof outside my bedroom window, watching my freedom slip away from me, and to be here—now…I clap my hands with glee.

“Keep control, Mia,” Evan says quietly.

“Oh hush, you, ruining all my fun.” I give him a quick shove, my hand pushing against his firm chest but not moving him in the slightest. “I’m fine, she’s gone back to her little mind prison in a bad mood with me. Now come on.”

This time it’s my turn to take his hand, as I pull him into the woods. The scent of the trees fills my nostrils, ultimately filling me with a joy that I haven’t felt in far too long. Memories of Delamere forest and my home town flood me, and I clutch Evan’s arm and breathe out pointlessly to gain control, closing my eyes as I steady myself. The sudden wave of images is heavy on my dead heart, but they are only snapshots of memories—cold and useless, much like the past.

I let the feelings settle, and then open my eyes back up. I look around me in amazement. I can see the auras of hiding animals, smell the scent of them, and hear the distant rumbling of the storm that has passed over. The beauty of the world is hard to describe, and I struggle against the euphoria of my new freedom.

“It’s so beautiful,” I murmur as my hand grazes the low branch of a tree.

Evan follows closely behind, his scent mingling with the pine of the forest. “It is, but there are always dangers behind beauty. You must remember that.”

I roll my eyes even though he can’t see, and venture further inwards, away from the coven. “There is nothing here that can hurt me, Evan.”

“You believe so?” he asks darkly.

“I do,” I reply without hesitation. Because there is nothing that can harm me—apart from stronger vampires and the Queen: and since we are not allowed to hurt one another, that only leaves the Queen. If she wanted to hurt me, she wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of rescuing me and bringing me here in the first place.

“Mia, you should never underestimate your surroundings, or the company that you keep.”

I stop suddenly and Evan bumps into my back. I turn to him with a frown. “Are you planning to hurt me, Evan? Are you warning me away from you?”

I watch his face flit through several emotions before settling on a stony expression. “Mia, you know I would never hurt you.” He takes a step forwards so that we are chest to chest, and I swallow hard. “You know that you are always safe with me. I am your trainer and protector, always.”

I nod shyly. The wind whips around us, blowing loose strands of his hair across his face. He doesn’t flinch or attempt to move them, and so I reach up and grasp them between my fingers and move them away from his face.

“Evan?” I begin.

His mouth moves as my hand draws close and he places a soft kiss on my fingertips. “Some things are just not allowed, Little Mia.” He whispers almost pitifully, like a wounded animal, his eyes staring darkly into mine. “No matter how much we want them.”

“Not ever?” I ask, my voice sounding equally pathetic and needy.

He looks away, our spell broken. “No,” he replies, and I can’t help but feel bitter disappointment at that thought. “Not ever.”

I wasn’t planning on anything happening with him, but I also can’t deny that there is something there, and to know that nothing will ever come of it is frustrating. I dare to ask the question that has been playing on my lips since our feelings started to transform from trainer and trainee to something else—a question that I don’t need to ask, because I already know the answer, but tonight, here, I feel the need to ask. To hear him say it for himself, instead of me just guessing.

“But why?” I ask, my words barely a whisper above the howling wind as the storm picks up again.

“It is not our choice to decide these things. We have been gifted with eternity, and with that gift comes responsibilities. I have these with our queen, and I must obey her until the end—until my end,” he says without missing a beat. “And now, so must you.” His fingers thread through my hair, his face looking sorrowful from his own words. “I owe her my life, and so shall she have it.”

I rapidly blink back tears. “Oh” is all I can reply, because what more is there to say? He might want me, but he will never take me, because he has given himself to the Queen and she owns him—owns us—and she decides these things. The thought is disturbing, and perhaps something that I have not considered until now: I am owned. Frustration and anger blossom in my stomach.

“Mia,” Evan cautions, as if sensing my desperation, my anger. His hand drops from my hair.

I don’t blame him. The blossoming of anger is rapidly building into something more. How dare someone decide my future—again? Do I not get to choose anything for myself? Will I never again make choices that are just for me? Or is my life to be like Evan’s, one of constant servitude? Because, well, that would suck!

Evan places a steadying hand on my shoulder. “Calm yourself, woman,” he rumbles.

I shake off his hand. Only a moment ago, his touch was calming and erotic to me; yet now it stings, as if his rejection of me was a slap to my face. I pant, my fangs twitching.