Blood Destiny (9 page)

Blood Destiny

by Tessa Dawn

response to their contact was barely noticeable, but it was there just the same—magnetic, undeniable.

The attraction was evident in her scent: the faint smell of fear mixed with arousal, the subtle hint of anticipation behind her anxiety. She must have felt like her body was betraying her, as he sensed her mixed emotions.

Nathaniel purposefully turned up the heat between them.

After some time had passed, she lifted her head and met his steady gaze. "My emotions are not going to override my brain, Nathaniel, no matter what you do."

Nathaniel didn't blink. "And I would never want such a thing."

Jocelyn sighed. "Fine..." She drew in a deep breath. "I suppose it doesn't do either of us any good for you to continue to talk in riddles—or for me to continue to remain in the dark."

He nodded, watching her intently.

"But I'll only talk to you on one condition—or there's really no point."

"What is that?"

He reached up and absently traced the arc of her eyebrow with the pad of his thumb. He tucked several loose tendrils of hair behind her ear and softly brushed her face from her jaw to her chin. And then he waited, while she leaned back and shut her eyes.

When she sat forward, her mouth was set in a stern line.

"What is this continuous need of yours to touch me?" She sounded exasperated, yet the rosy flush of her cheeks betrayed something else.

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Nathaniel held his ground without apology. He said nothing.

"It's unnerving," she whispered, even as she tilted her head slightly to the side, leaning in the direction of his hand.

Nathaniel caressed her again then, just beneath her ear...just above her vein. He was sending small bolts of electricity through her body each time he made contact, slowly letting her feel the power that existed between them.

She couldn't possibly understand how strong their connection really was. At least not yet.

He knew she would continue to try and convince herself that it was all him. That he was somehow making her do things she wouldn't otherwise do.

She had no idea that she was drawing him in as forcefully as he was drawing her.

A territorial male could not deny the needs of his female—

not even if he wanted to. As long as she felt insecure, he would be compelled to touch her.

"Your condition, angel?"

She took a deep breath. "The condition is that you tell me the truth."

"Of course," he assured her.

"And don't avoid any of my questions."

"I'll do my best...." His words hung in the air like moisture on a rainy night.

She met his gaze for a moment, and the hazel green centers of her eyes immediately softened as she reacted to the waves of reassurance he was sending her.

"I don't even know where to begin," she told him honestly.

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Nathaniel leaned in closer. "Start with something easy."

"Like?"

"Like what we are," he suggested.

"Vampires." She said it courageously.

"Yes."

She drew back, visibly shocked by his directness. He moved then, from the floor in front of her to the sofa beside her. He placed his hand on the nape of her neck and massaged it gently. It was not meant as an advance or to make her uncomfortable, but simply to make it clear that he intended to face this head-on with her. That he would not retreat from the truth of what he was...or what he wanted with her.

Her next question was surprisingly blunt. "Do you sleep in a coffin?"

He bit his lower lip, suppressing a smile. "No, I sleep in a comfortable king-size bed." He knew his eyes glittered with suggestion, so he briefly looked away.

She ignored the comment. "Can you be out during the day...in the sunlight?"

"Absolutely," he answered, "but we are nocturnal beings, Jocelyn. I prefer to sleep in the day and work at night; although, often it is necessary to conduct business during normal hours."

Jocelyn slowly exhaled. She appeared to be gathering her courage. "Do you...drink blood?"

"Yes."

Her hand went instinctively to her throat. "Please tell me you don't intend to drink mine. Please."

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The room was silent. And so was he. Unsure of how to respond. He would never use her as prey—just to feed—but the idea of tasting her someday, if and when she was willing to freely offer, was more than just a little erotic. Staring at the soft shade of her caramel-colored skin, the graceful curve of her neck as it rose elegantly above her sternum, he could almost taste her essence now.

After several seconds—when he still didn't answer—she sat forward, shifted nervously in her seat, and asked him more directly, "Are you or are you not planning to drink my blood, Nathaniel?"

His smile was flirtatious. "Not without your permission, Jocelyn." He leaned guardedly into her, gently nuzzled her neck, inhaled her scent...and then groaned.

She jumped back and pushed him away. "What are you doing?"

"Just imagining..." He smiled, a crooked grin, like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.

She squirmed and sank deeper into the sofa. "Quit playing!

I'm trying to ask you a serious question here. At least I think it's pretty damn serious."

He watched her with appreciation, intrigued by her anger.

"I'm sorry. I was distracted. What was your question, love?"

She smirked. "Whether or not you plan to drink my blood—whether or not you want to drink my blood. Like right now, when you just...smelled me, did you feel some overwhelming urge to—"

"No. I was teasing you." He lightly traced the contour of her neck with his fingers. "You are so beautiful, Jocelyn, but I 85

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want your comfort and your pleasure as much as my own."

His eyes swept over her face, and he reached out to twirl a few strands of her hair in his fingers. "In all honesty, you stir an altogether different kind of hunger in me."

She caught her breath and drew her hair behind her shoulder. "You are far too familiar with me, Nathaniel!" And then she brushed her hands over her arms trying to remove the goose bumps.

She cleared her throat. "So, when do you...drink blood?"

"My kind," he obliged, "we only need to feed every few weeks or so. Our lives and our power, our ability to regenerate, all of it is in our blood. We feed only to live."

She hesitated. "Do you kill people?"

"Not good people," he said. "I never hunt the innocent."

"So who do you hunt then?"

"Humans who prey on other humans for the sole purpose of deriving pleasure from their suffering."

His words seemed to surprise her.

"And you kill them? Like some kind of vigilante? Judge, jury, and executioner all in one?"

Nathaniel looked off to the side, contemplating her words.

"I can read people's thoughts, Jocelyn. I can view their memories. It is not the same as the evidence used in your human trials...all the prejudice and fear that corrupt the truth. There is no question of guilt. And I don't drink blood because I am a vigilante; I drink it because I am a vampire."

Jocelyn shook her head slowly. "What if there are no...guilty...people around?"

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He carefully took her hand and held it firmly in his own.

"Then I can take blood from anyone, but I would not kill an innocent person in the process."

She was silent for a moment then.

"Do people hunt you? I mean with garlic and crosses, stakes...that kind of thing?"

"They would if they knew of our existence." His voice never wavered. "It has happened many times throughout the centuries."

Jocelyn blinked several times, plainly trying to process his words. "Centuries? Just how old are you, Nathaniel?"

"Can we skip that question?"

"No...tell me."

"I am just over ten centuries old."

Jocelyn drew in a deep breath. "You're over one-thousand years old?" She stammered the words, dumbfounded.

He patted her hand. "Yes, but you need not be concerned; I find you very mature for your age." His smile was once again crooked.

"How old is your brother?" she asked.

"I have three living brothers, but the one you met—

Marquis—he's one of the oldest of our kind. He is fifteen-hundred years old."

Jocelyn shook her head in disbelief, and then she became suddenly withdrawn, her light eyes turning a dark, misty hue, her skin becoming noticeably pale. She looked stuck. Like she didn't know how to ask her next question.

And instinctively, he knew....

"So, we are finally there, then?"

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"Where?" she muttered, her voice barely audible.

"Back to what has been troubling you all along. Back to whatever occurred earlier in that forest. Back to the fear that has caused you—twice now—to want to take your own life."

Jocelyn slowly exhaled and nodded, but she didn't speak.

It was as if she couldn't.

She closed her eyes, and her once steady hand began to tremble inside of his.

"What is it, angel?" he asked calmly. "What has you so troubled?"

She just shook her head.

"Can't you tell me?"

She sniffled. "I want to, but..."

"But what?"

"But, it's just...I'm just..." Her hands began to shake, and she rubbed them together, nervously. "I'm scared."

Nathaniel stilled her trembling hand. "Tell me then, what it is you're so afraid of—what do you think is going to happen if you tell me?"

She didn't answer.

"Are you afraid that I'll be angry—"

"No, that's not it," she murmured.

"Then what is it?" His eyes linked unerringly with hers, drawing her into him like a powerful magnet. "Tell me, Jocelyn. I know you have little reason to trust me, but just this once—"

"I know what you're planning to do to me, all right?" She rushed the words, as if it were the only way she could get 88

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them out. "And I'm telling you, I can't handle it. Do you understand what I'm saying to you? I can't handle it!"

"What do you think—"

"Why are you doing this?" Her voice was anguished.

"Pushing me like this. At least right now—in this moment—I can pretend. Just a little longer, I can pretend like everything's okay. But once it's all out in the open...." Her eyes dimmed and she slowly looked away.

Nathaniel became uneasy then, although he tried to continue projecting confidence. "Jocelyn, I am not going to do anything to you without your permission."

"You're not hearing me, Nathaniel," she said, her voice growing desperate. "I know."

Nathaniel sat back and drew in a deep breath.

Great Celestial Deities, what did this woman believe he was planning to do to her? There was no way—absolutely no way—she knew about the Blood Curse. And even if she did, he had no intention of forcing himself on this beautiful female.

He had more faith in her than that. More faith in the providence of the gods. The rightness of their union.

"Okay..." He held up both hands, coaxing her like a frightened child. "Then we might as well face whatever it is you know together...right?"

She covered her face with her hands. "Please don't, Nathaniel...just stop—"

Her voice broke off, and she dropped her head in her hands, her long hair falling forward so that it shielded her from his view.

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She appeared so vulnerable that it made Nathaniel's chest ache, and he absently rubbed his hand over his sternum.

"You really can't tell me, can you?"

"No," she whispered. "I really can't."

Nathaniel gently pried her hands from around her eyes and massaged her temples. He lightly threaded his fingers through her silky hair, and then he raised her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Look at me, Jocelyn."

She grimaced.

"Look at me."

Her eyes met his.

"I'm going to ask your permission for something—"

"No—"

"Jocelyn, just listen."

She shook her head. "Please—"

"Listen to me."

She sighed.

"I would like to go into your mind and view your memories for myself—"

"No!" Her eyes grew wide, and she audibly gasped.

Nathaniel didn't flinch.

"It will allow me to see whatever you saw firsthand. Do you understand what I'm saying? I can view the information myself, without you ever having to say a single word—but I am asking for your permission."

Jocelyn looked pale...tired. "And if I don't give it to you?"

Her voice faltered.

He sat back and regarded her squarely. "We have all night, angel. If you say no, then we'll wait." He sat forward then and 90

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grasped her by the shoulders. "But sooner or later, we are going to deal with this."

Jocelyn's eyes filled with tears, and the tiny drops began to roll one after another down her delicate cheekbones, leaving tracks of deep sorrow in their wake. Reluctantly, she nodded.

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows, surprised, and then he framed her face with his hands. "Yes, then?"

She clenched her eyes shut. "Yes," she whispered.

And then she visibly held her breath.

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For the first time since they'd met, Jocelyn appeared to be truly lost, spiraling like a piece of driftwood in a river, haphazard and out of control. Her intense fear was palpable, and Nathaniel sensed that she detested her own vulnerability.

He began to reach inside of her mind, to unravel her memories. Moving from the present backward, he started in his own living room—when she had first come inside from the patio.