Bloody Kisses (13 page)

The little woman upstairs opened her door and travelled down the hallway. His friends would never believe he’d let her inside. The last two people to bring the papers had stayed on the porch the entire time. He didn’t like or trust humans, but it was hard to believe his data could be kept safe traveling over wireless networks.

His friends would laugh.

Alec found nothing funny. He never did.

His fangs threatened to descend, and he ignored the sensation. He’d been doing it so long, he hardly noticed. If he’d been alone, he wouldn’t have given it another thought. But he had a blood supply in the house, with her heart pumping his food and begging for his attention.

If she’d been a man, he wouldn’t have hesitated, but his upbringing never left him despite the monster inside of him begging him to be set loose. Alec didn’t like to hurt women.

He heard her when she approached the room. The steady but slightly too fast beat of her heart. She was scared.
Good,
she had sense. The air moved through her lungs as she breathed, keeping her going. She put a hand on her hip, and he wondered if one of them pained her. They creaked slightly, not something he’d expect for a woman of her age.

Had she been injured?

Why did he care?

She wore Lauren’s clothes, a choice he’d possibly made too hastily. He didn’t need memories of the time Edward had lost control and killed his mother. Or, rather, started the process of her dying—giving her just enough of his vampire blood to make her blood toxic but not change her. She hadn’t wanted to follow her son into the eternal night. There had been nothing any of them could do but see to it she was comfortable while she died.

That had fallen to him.

“Hello,” she said. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a blue shirt with shoulder pads, Essence looked very different than the wet bedraggled in mess she’d been when she arrived. Either way, she was gorgeous.

“Good evening.” The sooner he got her out of here, the sooner he could get back to his nighttime. She didn’t belong there or anywhere near his world. It was time to get Essence far away from him.

She held up her briefcase. “I bet you know how to do this already. You must have been doing this for what, fifteen years?”

He did look like he was in his early thirties. That was the age he’d been when he died. When he’d risen from his coffin, he had stayed as he’d been the day he’d been killed. His hair had been too long—a decision he’d made in order to fuel the fire between himself and his father at the time. Now, he would forever look like the disobedient son he’d once been.

“Yes, about fifteen years.” She wouldn’t believe the truth and, if she did, she’d run for her life. He needed to get the papers signed.

She nodded once before she placed the case on the table. The same yellow tabs that were always on the outside of the stack of papers presented themselves, waiting for his signature. He grabbed his pen and got to the task, flipping through the papers. The first years with any new name was a problem—he always had to be his own son. Dying and being reborn as the next male in his family proved harder the more information that was presented on the so-called Internet. The worldwide web made things harder on vampires in a universe that was already pretty difficult.

“You missed one.” She pressed against him, leaning forward to flip one of the pages back. Her scent, which he determinedly had not thought about, wafted toward him.
Vanilla
. His blood boiled, and the monster roared. He wanted to taste. He wanted blood. He wanted her.

Alec reared back, his fangs dropping despite his best efforts. He knew what else had happened, too. His eyes were red and the vampire face, the monster within, surged to life ready to have her. It had been too damned long since he had fed. This was all his fault.

Essence ran backwards, a silent scream sounding from her, hitting his ears before she ever made a sound a human could hear. Her terror produced a song before her body ever did.

With his fangs bared and his monster riding him hard, there wasn’t much he could do to stop the inevitable. She ran, he chased. Essence Welch, who had come to bring him his papers, was now his meal for the night.

He should have left her in the rain.

She slipped on the bottom step, falling forward, and her blonde hair floated behind her like angel wings. In two seconds, she was out cold on the pavement. He sighed. Really, this was no fun. The prey was supposed to run.

You decide when you eat. Not the monster. You have to drink blood to live, you don’t have to be what he wants you to be
.

Benyamin’s voice slowed his advance. He wanted to drink her blood, but he’d long ago learned how little what he desired mattered. Duty determined what kind of existence the rest of his days would be. If he couldn’t control himself better than this, he should seek the sun and be done with it.

Alec travelled the brief distance to her side, still not sure what he would do when he touched her. She wasn’t dead, her heart still beat, but she might be soon. Head injuries were so troublesome for the living. He flipped her over. The hit wasn’t bad, but her lack of consciousness did not seem a good sign for her future.

Blood dripped down the side of her cheek. It dripped and flowed. He groaned. Blood. The fluid of life and the mother’s milk to a vampire. He’d never wanted anything as much as he craved Essence Welch’s blood.

There had to be a compromise, some way to satisfy the beast and not drain this woman dry. He touched the side of her face, coating his index finger with her blood. Like a man possessed, he brought it to his mouth. It was so sweet, he shivered from the sensation.

Oh, heavy night. What little choices you leave me…

His brain stuttered. He knew the taste in his mouth. Like fingerprints, every human tasted slightly different, at least to a vampire. He never forgot any one person’s taste. And he certainly couldn’t ever let go of the one in his mouth right then. He’d known her soul.
Constantia…

It wasn’t possible. She’d been dead for one hundred years.

The monster forgotten, he picked the little woman up in his arms. She was hurt. Nothing would be solved if he let her die. But, he couldn’t fix her himself. He wasn’t a doctor, and anything he tried to do would only make things worse.

His fangs receded, his human brain coming online at least temporarily. If he had a little time, he’d use it. Who was Essence Welch, and why did she taste like his beloved?

Alec didn’t have a car. He didn’t need one. It had been fifteen years since he’d needed to leave the house. The servants he’d employed for forever and a day brought him whatever he asked for and the council kept them all very wealthy. Beyond that, he’d gotten very good at investing over the years. He was as rich as he could possibly be.

It was time to use that money to get some answers.

Picking up his cell phone, he called Everest, one of his paid human servants. He would drive them to the hospital and then wait during the day to see to whatever Essence needed. At sundown, Alec would return and then there would be answers. So help him.

The moon would not set again before he knew.

* * *

H
aving left
Essence in the care of people who could help her, he returned home to phone the council. It was almost dawn, but Benyamin would not have rested yet.

“My friend,” his mentor answered him on the first ring. “What troubles your mind as dawn approaches?”

The man was old—so ancient there was little he didn’t know of the world. Alec cleared his throat. “I have sampled the blood of one who shares the taste of my beloved.”

“So, it
has
happened.” Benyamin didn’t even sound surprised. This concerned Alec more than anything else. What didn’t he know?

“Explain.” They’d gone so long together, sometimes the less said, the better.

“All things are possible, and I have heard of such things before—a return of a soul not done here. The Western peoples would call it reincarnation. I don’t care for terms. Sometimes, one we love comes back to us. They are not the same. This human you’ve found—she will not be your love, exactly. But she is here, and perhaps it is time to find out why. They share a soul.”

Alec braced his hand on the wall. “Why wouldn’t you have told me this before? Why would you have kept this to yourself?”

“I couldn’t promise you she would come. What if she didn’t? I wouldn’t have wanted you to get your hopes up. It was why I urged you not to seek the dawn. Tell me everything that happened. What happens next will be important. You clearly have unfinished business.”

That was putting it mildly.

E
ssence’s head pounded
. She was lucky she wasn’t concussed, but she still had a massive headache and the pain meds the doctors had loaded her up with before releasing her were only taking the edge off a little bit. It was going to be a long few days until this let up.

Or maybe they were really working well, in which case the gosh darn headache was even worse than she realized. She’d even gone so far as thinking about calling her family back in Texas. But, the day she’d left for New York City they’d written her off. She’d never been very good at following her parents’ rules. Two years earlier, she’d attempted a call to them and they’d hung up, telling her not to call again.

As if New York was the den of hell and she slept nightly with Satan himself. She hadn’t had a boyfriend since she’d moved to the city, and she was still a virgin, for goodness sake. She closed her eyes and let her head pound. The music of The Firebird filled her head. So many dancers had preferred Tchaikovsky but, given the choice, she always brought Stravinsky's music to mind. She’d gotten to dance it just once—in college. The Firebird was a story about mythical Russian bird that could be both a gift and a curse to its owner.

Most things were…

Her mother had thought she was insane when she was growing up. She’d told lavish stories of the Ballets Russes in Paris. What kind of child did that? Why hadn’t she played with Barbies like her sisters? How had she even heard about it? She’d driven her parents crazy, and now she just had herself to make nuts.

Compared to the creepy house in the wilds of the country, her one-thousand-square-foot apartment seemed even smaller than normal. She gave an irritated tug to the shower curtain she’d used to surround the toilet in the kitchen as she passed it. She hated the rental apartment, the state of her life, and her headache—grumpy as all get out without anywhere to vent that frustration.

Not to mention, she couldn’t remember what happened at the weird house with Mr. Amanar. The last thing she remembered was sitting at his table while he signed and then…what? The doctors told her she’d fallen down the stairs. She didn’t even remember. Just some crazy dreams about vampires.

The music in her mind moved at its steady pace. She could see the dancers as they glided across the stage. Really, it looked like flying. The Costumes. And Paris in 1910…so alive. She sat next to a man. He was her secret, her love, the one who saw to her every need…even the dark ones.

Her eyes flew open. It was right there that the dream always ended. She knew it could go on. She’d told her mother about it once, and the woman had beat the hell out of her with the back of a hairbrush. Her rear end had stung for a week. She wasn’t even to dream, apparently, about drinking blood. That was not an acceptable thought, even for her imagination.

But, there was always the music. She would always have that.

Her bosses had been understanding about the delay in the paperwork. Her briefcase had come with her to the hospital—she supposed if she ever saw the strange, albeit handsome client again, she’d thank him for thinking of it when he’d had his employee bring her to the hospital. As long as the papers were signed, they’d wait twenty-four hours to receive them, meaning she’d have to go to work, which meant getting up, getting dressed, and the whole nine yards.

A knock on the door only added to her pain. Who could be banging at ten in the morning on a work day? Her few girlfriends should be at work, and she doubted the bartender down the street had come to check on her, considering she’d just cancelled their almost date. No way was she going to be up for a costume party.

Essence squinted her way to the door and looked through the peephole. A man stood outside, wearing jeans and a red t-shirt. He held flowers in his hand. She flung open the door. “You have the wrong apartment. The girl down the hall gets all the flower deliveries. She’s apparently really good at what she does.”

Which had something to do modeling… But maybe it was hands instead of clothes. Essence wasn’t really sure.

Men came and went from her apartment, too, which left Essence feeling lonely. Her virginal status weighed on her heavily. Who—besides herself—hadn’t lost their virginity by the time they were twenty-six?

“Are you Essence Welch?” The man chewed gum when he spoke, and he must have been a smoker, because it wafted into her apartment along with the scent of mint.

“That’s me.”

He shoved the vase in her face, and she took it automatically. Had the partners sent her roses? “Ah, thanks.”

“Cool name, by the way. How’d you get it?”

She blinked, trying to understand the question. Was he kidding? When he didn’t move, she decided he meant it as legitimate query. “My parents. Thank you.” What was she supposed to do now? Tip him?

He nodded, scratching his chin. “Ah, well. Yeah. Don’t worry. Tip was included. Have a good day.”

She shut the door, still as confused as she’d been when she opened it.
Roses?
She set the vase down on her small, practically dilapidated kitchen table. Now that she was earning more money and not in school, she needed to start investing in things to make life nicer. Like a table that didn’t jiggle. But, first a new apartment in a better neighborhood that had an actual place for the toilet outside of the kitchen.

Essence didn’t have big dreams anymore, but the ones she had mattered. A little comfort would go a long way.

She caught sight of herself in the glass vase. A giant bandage covered most of her forehead. She shook her head. “It’s a good thing you have such a hard one.”

A card poked out of the flowers, and she picked it up to read it. At least the flowers hadn’t been sent without identifying who sent them. That would have been kind of creepy.

Ms. Welch,

I am so deeply sorry you were hurt at my residence. I request the presence of your company to discuss certain matters in private. As I know you may be reluctant to see me again, given our last encounter, I would be happy to meet you in a public place surrounded by others. Would Le Grande Jette work for you tomorrow evening at nine for dinner? If this doesn’t work, I understand. I will wait for you there, regardless.

I hope you like the roses.

“Lords of melody and song,

Lords of roses burning bright,

Blue will right the ancient wrong,

Though the way is dark and long,

Blue will shine with loving light.”

― Madeleine L'Engle, A Swiftly Tilting Planet.

Deepest Regards

Alec

Essence set down the card after staring at it for a full minute. That settled it. She understood nothing at all about anything. Why would her bosses’ client send her roses because she fell at his house? Why would he want to meet with her? Did he think she was about to sue him? And what was with the quote from Madeleine L’Engle? The woman had been her favorite author when she’d been about twelve. Science fiction and fantasy novels had gotten her through the long hours of her childhood when dance hadn’t been enough.

She’d never known a man to read L’Engle’s books. Of course, she hadn’t had that many conversations about L’Engle with men to judge. The subject hadn’t come up in college. She sat down in her chair, which nearly toppled over. She weighed ninety pounds. It couldn’t be because she was heavy. When she felt better, Essence would have to take out her screwdriver and get to fixing it.

Le Grande Jette?
It was fancy, even by New York City standards. Although, lately in Manhattan the trend tended to be casual. Or so she’d been told. She couldn’t afford to eat out much. Casual still meant expensive clothes and going out in one of her business suits—all two of them—didn’t appeal to her very much.

She’d never expected to eat at that restaurant ever in her life.

Even beyond the L’Engle oddity, what had the rest of the note meant? Why wouldn’t she want to be alone with him? Because she’d fallen? She remembered very little. Was it possible he pushed her? No, she doubted that. Why would he bother?

She rubbed her aching head. The smart thing to do would be to tell the partners and not show up. Of course, they had no way of getting in touch with him except for sending someone up there. Then, he’d be there sitting at the table alone. Unless they sent someone to the restaurant.

Essence groaned. She needed a nap and to think things through after she got one. What would she even wear? She owned one black dress and it was terribly out of style. On her best days, she’d never been fashionable. Essence always preferred wearing a ballet leotard over anything else. Her extra time had always been spent dancing.

Answers about what to do would come later.

She rose, a smile on her face. He’d sent her roses. She might never get any for the rest of her life. Still, she’d gotten them today, and they certainly brightened up the apartment.

Crossing the small distance, she got in her bed and closed her eyes. Sleep came easily, which was unusual, but considering all of the pain killers she was on she shouldn’t be surprised. They always drained the heck out of her.

Her dreams were lucid. She knew she was asleep and felt more like a passenger than an active participant in what happened around her. As per usual, she sat watching the ballet, her hand embraced by the man sitting next to her.

Alec…

In the dream, Essence gasped. She’d made the man next to her the client from the house where she’d fallen. Well, he was really handsome, if a bit scary. She supposed he would do. The music surrounded them, and it moved through her. The dancers were extraordinarily beautiful. She’d never learned to dance, despite her upbringing where ladies learned the arts as a rule instead of anything else.

Her Papa hadn’t approved of dancing. It gave people the wrong idea. She didn’t know about that. Lots of things made her think about sex. Ballet wasn’t one of them. Ballet made her think about beauty.

Alec leaned over to whisper in her ear. “You’re enjoying yourself.”

“Very much.” This ballet would be a hit. It would change the composer’s life, she just knew it. “I’ve almost forgotten the disaster in Spain.” They spoke in whispers, much too low for the humans around them to hear.

He groaned, kissing her cheek. “I thought you had forgiven me for that.”

“Maybe someday. Until then, I reserve the right to be resentful about how our romantic evening ended.”

Being chased by hunters and ending up having to hide in a whore house for the rest of the night was not her definition of a good time. Whenever they were with the council, things went horribly wrong. She didn’t understand why Alec continued to insist on going to the meetings. She cared not one whit about what the rest of the vampire world did. She only wanted her love and everyone else could go to hell.

But tonight was perfect. And nothing would ruin it.

Except for her constant need to feed. It was from the run from the hunters. It had reawakened the instincts she’d worked so hard to be rid of.

Alec must have known. Somehow he always did. He wrapped his arm around her, shielding her from the world when they left the performance. “A few moments longer, my love. I’ve fed for both of us.”

He had? When had he managed? She never knew. He was ten times more successful at not killing the person who’s blood he ingested than she was. It was all such a bother, all of the time.

They made their way down a dark corridor. The best way was to wait until they got home. Alec must have believed that wasn’t possible for her. She trusted him to know. He leaned against a building and unbuttoned his shirt.

“Feed, my love. Take what you need.”

Her fangs elongated. It was such a relief. She bit down on Alec’s chest. He sucked in his breath and against her he got hard. The warm, coppery taste of the human blood travelled from his body to hers. He was hard against her. Her need satiated, her body turned on. She wanted him. Inside her. Now.

Essence sat up, panting. She gasped for air. Her head still pounded. Well, that had been unexpected. She’d never seen all of that before. And she’d put Alec in the middle of it. As a vampire. She shook her head, the real world rushing back to her.

There was nothing to do about it—she’d have to see Alec again so she could get control over whatever this strange obsession was.

* * *

A
lec waited in the restaurant
, seated at what he’d been assured was the most private table in the place. He wanted her to be comfortable, not afraid, but he didn’t want a lot of ears around to hear what he had to say.

For a man who hadn’t left his house in fifteen years, he still wielded a lot of power once he called for it. Benyamin awakened the council for his requests. He was going to have to get to know a human woman in a time he understood very little about. Maybe the quote on the roses had been too much. He’d recently read those books. It had seemed appropriate at the time. Now, he had to wonder if it had been a mistake.

They were young adult books, and just because he could see the life in them did not mean she wouldn’t find it offensive he hadn’t used Shakespeare or something else instead. He’d half expected her to tell her employers and be done with him. That hadn’t happened, at least not yet.