“No! That’s not possible.” I shook my head
in disbelief. “Vampires aren’t real. They’re fiction; nothing but stories and
myths.”
One of his dark eyebrows rose slightly. He
cocked his head to the side. He smirked as his eyes trailed down from my face.
“Did you not notice the mark on your neck? Do you not remember drinking my
blood?” His fangs showed as he spoke: pure white, sharp little daggers, just a
slight bit longer than the rest of his teeth. His voice carried that same
arrogance I remembered from when he talked with my attackers.
My mouth hung open. No, this isn’t
possible.
Things were still fuzzy in my head, but I
did remember the blood, the liquid fire, I had been forced to drink. I’d hoped
it had just been some drug-induced dream.
Oh, my God, it was true. I drank his blood.
“I’m…a … vampire?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “Our kind are very real.
And now, Alyssa, you are one of us.”
I slumped backwards into the cushions of
the couch. His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stared wide-eyed at the
distant wall. This was like some terrible nightmare. I didn’t want to believe
what he was telling me, but I knew he was right. There was no other way to
explain what had happened to me. No amount of hallucinogenic drugs could have
explained how I had survived the attack, why I had these markings, or the
sharpness of my own new set of fangs.
“Does that mean I’m… undead?”
“You are immortal,” Lysander said with a
casual wave of his hand. “Undead is a silly term mortals use to explain the
supernatural things they cannot possibly understand. You are no more dead than
you were when you woke up this morning. You are just, for lack of a better
word, changed.”
Lysander gave me another toothy grin. His
fangs were frightening to look at. The memory of him biting me played over and
over in my mind like a video stuck on repeat.
“But you drank my blood.” My hand shot back
up to cover the wound on my neck.
“Only enough to allow the transformation.”
He reached out, grabbed my hand, and pulled
it from my neck.
“Don’t touch me.” I flinched, annoyed and
afraid at his sudden gesture. I tried to pull my hand out of his grip, but he
was so much stronger than I was. He pushed my hand to my chest, forcing me to
feel the erratic thumping of my heart.
“You see,” he said calmly. “Your heart
still beats.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had
been holding. “But…how?” I relaxed my hand relaxed under his grip.
“Unlike some of your other organs, your
heart is still necessary to keep blood flowing through your body.” Lysander let
go of me. “For now, while your body is in transition, it will beat in an
accelerated rhythm, but it will eventually slow itself to a more normal pace.”
I was speechless. My mind raced, recalling
books and movies, everything I knew about vampire mythology. Bats, stakes, and
garlic immediately popped into my mind.
“I
must mention that your generation’s ideas of vampires are a bit off.” Lysander
spoke with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Many of the popular books and
movies about our kind are no more real than children’s fairytales.”
Is he reading my mind? I wondered how he
seemed to say just the right thing as I was thinking it. “So, none of the
stories are true?”
“Most of the new stories you are probably
familiar with are filled with complete nonsense.”
“What about the old ones, like Dracula?”
Lysander sighed. His shoulders slumped.
“Dracula is not what I would consider an old story, but yes, a few are based on
some truth, however little it may be. There is much that is added to make us
seem easier to deal with.” His lip curled into a crooked grin. “Mortals like to
think they can hurt us. It helps them sleep at night.”
“So, you’re not afraid of crosses, then?”
Lysander shook his head. “Crosses and other
holy relics are nothing more than symbols and decorations. I hardly see why an
ornamental cross would stop me from doing anything. Furthermore, I think it’s
time for the Christians to come up with a better symbol. One that is a little
less… gloomy.”
I chuckled. “Okay, what about garlic?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “What about it?”
“Isn’t garlic bad for vampires?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Why would it be?
We don’t eat, so how would it harm us?”
I nodded. “Okay… umm… stakes?”
His head tilted to the side as the corner
of his lip rose up into a teasing grin. “You can try to stab me with a piece of
wood, but I doubt it will do much more than aggravate me. We heal quite fast.
Perhaps a blade would work better.”
I shuddered, seeing his teeth again as he
spoke. Is that how I look now?
“So, knives and swords are bad?”
“Yes. It is much harder to regenerate a
severed limb. And if we are separated from our heads, it would be safe to say
we would cease to exist.”
I smiled, noting the sarcasm in Lysander’s
voice. I could tell he’d had this conversation before. He seemed to be enjoying
my round of silly questions.
“Holy water?” I blurted out.
Lysander let out a hearty laugh. “No, you
won’t melt into a pile of goo. You can throw most of that nonsense out of the
window, Alyssa.”
I giggled, realizing how silly it sounded:
melting into a pile of goo after being splashed with water. Maybe this won’t be
so bad.
“You see, we immortals are not as
ridiculous as Hollywood likes to portray us. Though one thing is true... we do
survive off the blood of the living.”
Excerpt 2
“Shy, are we, ma chère?” Edmond spoke
softly, inching closer. Again, I felt the eerie sensation of his eyes probing
me. ”Might I at least have the pleasure of your name?”
“Get the hell away from me,” I snapped.
“Leave her out of this, Edmond, and get to
the point of your visit,” barked Lysander.
Edmond’s lips curled at the corners. “I’m
afraid I can’t do that.”
I shuddered. Damn it, I probably should
have kept my mouth closed. My chest became tight. My heart raced, pounding like
a drum roll.
Edmond took another small step closer,
reaching a hand out to me. I flinched.
Lysander stepped in front of me, blocking
Edmond’s path. He knocked away Edmond’s hand. “I said, leave her alone.”
“Jealous, are we, Lysander?” He sneered.
“Don’t worry. I won’t steal her. I just wish to know her name.”
An odd silence halted their verbal tennis
match. It piqued my curiosity. I chanced a look at Edmond. He stood firm in his
place. He and Lysander stared at one another as if each was threatening the
other to make a move, but no words were exchanged.
Lysander’s face was blocked from my view,
but I saw the struggle in Edmond’s eyes. His lips quivered at the corners, but
he did not move or speak. His hands twitched, fisting and rising to a defensive
position, and then relaxing back to his side.
The odd silence and strange behavior
confused me. Lysander’s body also seemed to tense and relax in front of me. I
shrank behind him, waiting for something to happen. Tension ran thick in the
air. I sensed a fight was about to start. Many moments went by silently before
Lysander spoke again.
“Enough mind games, Edmond. Speak your purpose
for being here or leave us,” Lysander demanded.
“Fine,” Edmond huffed. “It is precisely
this enchanting little urchin you have recently turned that gives us cause to
have this chat.” There was a definite note of disdain in his voice.
Me? What do I have to do with anything?
A chill ran down my spine. I wanted to get
out of there. I needed to escape.
Lysander’s stance became more defensive. He
continued to act as a wall between Edmond and me. “She is none of your—or
anyone else’s—concern, Edmond.”
“That may be your opinion; however, there
are those among us who do not look too kindly on bastard fledglings turned
without permission, and, well, you know the law.…”
“Those laws do not pertain to me,” Lysander
said with a snarl. “I am under no one’s rule.”
“That, too, is a matter of opinion, and it
would be in your best interest and the interest of your…lady friend to sort
this matter out with Kallisto.”
“I have nothing to discuss with you or
Kallisto,” Lysander said. “I am through with this conversation. Leave my
presence before I decide to send Kallisto a message of my own, using your
corpse.”
Edmond waved his hand at Lysander. “Save
your childish threats for someone else.” He turned and walked away toward the
elevators. “Consider this your one and only warning. You have thirty nights.”
Excerpt 3
“You must create a very strong feeling in
yourself. You have to feel it if you are going to make your victim feel it,”
Lysander continued.
That doesn’t sound too hard.
“When you have your strong feeling, you must
will that feeling to your victim, so they feel it too.”
A wicked grin crossed his face. I knew he
was about to do something to me, but I didn’t know what it was.
“Now, imagine your victim feeling this as
you attack.”
He lifted his hand and brushed the side of
my neck. His touch caused my skin to pimple with gooseflesh. He looked down
into my eyes; I felt the power of his stare intensify. A gray haze filled my
head, and I suddenly felt weightless in my seat.
My heart fluttered wildly, like a humming bird
buzzing in my chest. A feeling of want took me, an overwhelming need for him to
be close to me. I swooned, falling back into the chair. I caught my balance
just as Lysander bent down eye level with me.
His hand knotted in my hair. He gently
pulled my head backwards. Hot breath grazed the sensitive skin on my neck as he
drew closer; it set my blood on fire. I suddenly needed to touch him, to feel
his body against my own. I closed my eyes, exhaled slowly, and arched my neck
towards him in anticipation. I knew now what was coming. I didn’t want to
struggle. I wanted him to bite me, to take my blood, my essence, into him.
His lips parted on my skin, sending a
shiver down my spine.
A sigh escaped my lips as his teeth pierced
my skin—a momentary pinch. I whimpered but didn’t struggle against him. The
sensual pull as he drew the life out of me quickly replaced the pain.
I wanted this. I wanted to be taken—to give
all of myself to Lysander. Whatever he wanted from me, he could have. I would
die in his arms if he only asked.
As quickly as he advanced, he finished his
lesson, gently releasing me, letting me sink into the chair. Part of me wanted
to cry out. I wanted more of his kiss. My body ached for his closeness.
Lysander pulled away and sat himself down
on the floor. His eyes caught mine as I slowly regained control over my body.
We sat gazing at each other. I wondered if he had shown me some of the real
feelings simmering underneath his usually emotionless exterior.
It took a few minutes for me to completely
recover from Lysander’s advance. I sat back up on the chair, breathing slowly,
trying to calm my pounding heart.
“Now, Alyssa, I want you to try that on me.
Make me feel that same way, make me want to die in your arms.”
I don’t know that I can do that.
His gaze had been so powerful and
commanding. He had taken control of me before I knew what was happening. I
didn’t know if I would be able to match that intensity and control.
I breathed slowly and steadily, trying to
center myself. I needed to quiet my own yearning before I could gauge the
emotions from Lysander. The lingering effects of his advance on me still took
center stage in my mind. I couldn’t deny the ache, the desire to touch him.
I wanted him. I wanted to share myself with
him. I wanted to be close to him.
I slid off the chair and onto his lap, on
the floor. Our eyes met, and I again felt the warmth, the connection between
us. I focused on his beautiful eyes, calling up any power I might have in
myself.
I want you, I want all of you.
Willing Lysander to feel my need, I leaned
in, pressing my lips to his. He didn’t reject me.
I want you, Lysander.
His lips parted and our tongues collided,
dancing together, playfully licking against sharp teeth as we explored one
another’s mouths. We locked in an embrace as new lovers on his dining room
floor. I savored the feeling of his lips—so soft, like two silken
pillows—pressing against my own.
I
willed my feelings on him, hoping they were strong enough for him to want me as
I wanted him.
Kissing wasn’t enough; I needed a taste.
Thirst nagged at me, and I needed blood to satiate it. I broke from the kiss
and ran my hands through his silky hair, gently pushing his head sideways,
exposing his bare neck as I searched for the pulsing blue vein.
He shuddered as my teeth broke through the
soft flesh of his neck. His blood; the tingling ecstasy, the warm, sweet, honey
liquid flooded my mouth, and a dizzying rush of energy washed through me.
Instinctively, as if I had been doing it my
whole life, I willed Lysander to share in this feeling.
A low, rumbling groan of pleasure came from
him.
I drew his blood into me, slowly feeling my
need for him increase. I wanted to have him, all of him. I willed that thought
and feeling to Lysander and drank him in deeply.
His arms surrounded me, tightening in an
embrace, pulling me in close, silently telling me to take him. A hard knot
formed in his pants. I felt it pressing against me as I sat in his lap.
Warmth spread between my legs. I reveled in
the feel as he embraced me against him.
His heart beat in a slow, powerful rhythm,
like a drum urging me to move and dance.
I ground into his hardness, matching the
beat of his calling heart. Lysander’s chest vibrated against me as he let out
another rumbling groan of pleasure. His hands raked down my back. Pulling me in
close, he forced my body to press harder and harder against him. His hands sank
lower down my back. He squeezed and kneaded my ass as he guided the motion of
my hips.
My head swam with pleasure as I drank in my
fill. My body flooded with energy. I ached with need for more. Erotic images
played in my mind. I had not had the pleasure of a man in so long. I needed to
feel him inside of me. I imagined him on top of me, taking me. I willed him to
see that image and feel that desire.
Oh, God. I need you Lysander.
I released his neck. Lysander’s hand
reached up, cradling the back of my head as his lips found mine. In one fluid
motion he rolled us over, laying me gently on the ground below him.
It was as if he had heard my thoughts. I
flushed with excitement, looking up into his eyes.
Flames of passion burned brightly in the
swirling twilight.
Lysander blinked a few times. His lusty
gaze suddenly returned to a flat, emotionless expression as if someone had
flicked on a light switch.
I silently cried out, What happened?
Excerpt 4
I wanted to see my friend Fallon and tell
her what had happened to me. If she hadn’t left me alone that night, my life
wouldn’t have changed. I wouldn’t be this thing. I wouldn’t be here, a prisoner
in Lysander’s home.
I needed the comfort of my familiar
surroundings. I missed the stale smell of cigarettes and coffee.
Would Fallon even understand if I told her?
Could she? Vampires are works of fiction, not walking, talking people.
I tried to think of ways I could tell her
what I was without her thinking I was a cold-blooded killer. If I ever see her
again, can I make her understand the fact that blood keeps me alive? That I
must feed every night, and because of that, I choose to feed from those who do
harm to others?
Even to myself, it sounded stupid. I
sounded like some form of bastardized superhero.
There was no use. I was not meant to deal
with humans or society as an equal anymore. No matter how I thought about it, I
knew there was no way she could accept it. I had hardly accepted it.
How could I still maintain a mortal
friendship, being what I was? She would shun me, ask me how many I had killed,
and secretly wonder if I would look to her for food.
If she didn’t run away screaming in terror,
she might want to be turned, too, and I couldn’t pass this thing on to another
person.
I’m
damned now, only able to associate with those of my kind, if they will accept
me.
The tears kept streaming down my face. I
wiped them as they hit my cheek, noticing they had a faint brownish tinge to
them. Blood.
I could do nothing anymore without blood. I
cursed it. I don’t want to be this thing. I don’t want blood. I want to be
normal again!
“Why did Fallon have to ditch me that
night?” I sobbed.
Excerpt 5
He patted the space next to him on the
loveseat. “Don’t leave. I thought we were going to get to know each other. You
need more champagne.”
“Yeah, more champagne,” Jessie blurted out,
pretending to be drunk. She grabbed the bottle of champagne and put it to her
lips as if drinking. “Mmmm, have a drink, Lyss,” she said with a wink.
She leaned in, handing the bottle to me,
and whispered, “Have a little fun. Don’t you want him?”
Jessie didn’t give me time to answer. She
immediately returned to her hypnotic gyrations. Erick watched me, so I too
lifted the bottle to my mouth, pretending to drink the bubbly beverage.
I used to like champagne, when I was
mortal. Now, just the smell of it made me want to retch. Bubbles tickled the
tip of my tongue. My stomach flipped, threatening to heave if I swallowed so
much as a drop. I lowered the bottle with a fake smile plastered on my face.
“Mmm, we need some more of this.”
Erick got up and pulled me close to him. He
pressed his hard body to mine, rocking side to side with the beat of the music.
“You’re absolutely right. Let’s get some more.”
Erick’s advances became more sexual the
more he drank. Halfway through the second bottle, he pulled us both on top of
him on the love seat.
I must admit, I savored the delicious
warmth of his hand as he squeezed my butt. He lavished attention on both of us,
alternating between kissing Jessie and me. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t
help myself. I let my hands explore his body as he claimed my mouth. Under his
loose, silky shirt was a perfect washboard stomach. I traced each ripple down
to his obvious arousal, cupping the tent in his jeans.
He moaned into my mouth. I knew I should
stop. The beast inside roared to life, begging for just a small taste.
Erick’s hand slid down between my legs. His
fingertips traced the outline of my sex through my thong.
“Ah, hmmmm.” I sighed, enjoying his touch.
It had been so long since I had had the
pleasures of a man, and his gestures were quite tempting.
I lingered too long. I should have stopped
myself, but his smell, his touch, his heartbeat, his warmth—it was all too
tempting. I wanted so badly to taste him. I needed to taste him. Just one taste
wouldn’t hurt, right?
My thirst, my hunger, the nagging sensation
won. I concentrated on my desire to have Erick. I needed to have him, a taste
of him. I left his hot mouth and moved my kisses down towards his neck. His
succulent vein thumped against my lips; blood pulsed below the surface of his
skin, just begging me to take it.
I tried one last time to fight the urge.
No, he’s an innocent. He’s done no harm to anyone. He doesn’t deserve my deadly
kiss.
His fingers slid underneath my thong,
dipping slowly into my wet opening.
I lost control, giving in to my desire.
Opening my mouth wide, I sank my teeth into his neck, severing the vein. My
reward was a satisfying rush of hot blood, flooding my mouth.
He moaned, a pleasurable sound. I hoped he
was caught in the moment and had not realized what I had done. I didn’t need
him knowing I was sucking the life out of him.
His hands still explored my nether regions,
confirming my suspicion.
Don’t fight it, let me take you. I willed
my desires on him as I drank in his blood. I wanted him, all of him. Every drop
of his blood was ecstasy.
His hand went limp beneath me.
Shit!
A moment of clarity hit me. I have to stop
myself. He’s an innocent!
I hoped I’d realized this before I was too
close to ending his life. I pulled away and rested my head on his chest, trying
to regain composure. I listened for the sound of his heart. The soft, fading
beat told me I was too late. I had taken too much blood. His heart struggled as
it slowly came to a stop. No!
Erick was dead.
Excerpt6
I became painfully aware of liquid pouring
down on me, each drop like an icy hammer hitting my sore skin. Movement echoed
in my ears, telling me that I wasn’t alone. Slowly, I opened my eyes. Harsh
light blinded me. My mind was fuzzy. I struggled to recall any small detail
that might clue me in to what had happened and where I was.
I reached up to wipe the splattering water
from my face. I chanced opening my eyes again. As I looked up, I spotted the
source of the water, a showerhead on the opposite wall. Confused by this odd
location, I struggled to penetrate the blackness of my memory and figure out
how I had ended up in a bathtub.
Where the hell am I?
I tried to focus on the bright, unfamiliar
surroundings.
My vision, it seemed, had become remarkably
sharp while I was unconscious. I couldn’t remember ever noting so many details
in such simple surroundings as these before.
Cream-colored tiles covered the walls, each
rippled with tiny imperfections. Each held an individual pattern, making them
unique and special. Yellowing, porous grout, framing the tiles, appeared to be
littered with dots from small air bubbles that had come to the surface,
creating different patterns and shapes.
Even the plain white curtain that separated
me from the rest of the room seemed unusually detailed and perfectly woven. I
saw each tiny strand that had been tightly bound together to form this heavy,
durable cloth.
Small specks of mold building up in the
corners of the porcelain basin weren’t able to escape my new sight either.
The
amazing level of detail I experienced didn’t hold my attention for long.
Freezing water still poured down on me. I needed to reach the handle and end
the cold assault, but it seemed so far out of my reach. I eased myself up to a
sitting position, my muscles aching with each small movement. Looking down, I
saw my beaten body. The water had washed away some of the grime, but what was
left of my shredded clothes was stained and clinging to my skin.
“Uggh!” I moaned.
“Oh, good, you’re alive,” said a male voice
from behind the white curtain.
The voice seemed strange and yet somehow
familiar. I searched my fuzzy memories to place the voice with a face. A wave
of fear came over me as I remembered the attack.
Had I been kidnapped? Was I a hostage of
some kind? I struggled to recall the events of the evening.
“You’ve been out for a few hours. I was
worried I might have lost you,” continued the voice.
“What?” I called, still not sure who I was
talking to.
“It doesn’t always work. Some people can’t
be turned,” the voice said matter-of-factly.
“Turned?” What the hell is that supposed to
mean?
