Bound by the Vampire: A Paranormal Romance Novella Page 4

  Evan had been listening to her with focused attention, his expression inscrutable. “Our origin myths are a bit different. The other way round, actually. The first vampire, as our stories go, was willing to give up his soul for immortality. I’m not sure if love figures into that equation, but there’s no doubt our races are heading in different directions.”

  “Different directions?”

  “Well, yeah. You folks found a way into Heaven, and we’re heading straight for Hell. If we’re careless enough to get killed, that is,” he added with a grin. “I myself have always subscribed to Jane Eyre’s recipe for avoiding Hell. ‘I must keep in good health, and not die.’”

  He spoke lightly, but Celia sensed that there was real feeling behind his words. What the feeling was, she had no idea.

  “I’m not sure I believe in all that,” she mused out loud.

  “All what?”

  “Heaven and Hell.”

  “But you believe in other dimensions?”

  “I do now,” she said quietly.

  Evan nodded slowly. “And now we come to it. That’s what you’ve discovered, isn’t it? Something about that other dimension.”

  She nodded. “The Fae are only supposed to drink absinthe once a year, on the night of the winter solstice. Our legends tell us that if you drink more often, you risk being pulled into that other dimension, never to return. You see, the herbs we use to prepare absinthe—they come from that other world. Brought here by the first Fae to cross between the dimensions, and tended in secret gardens around the world.”

  Evan raised his eyebrows at that. “That’s something I didn’t know.”

  She nodded again. “If my people knew I was telling you this, they wouldn’t be happy. But that’s why we believe the drink enhances our powers—because it pulls energy from the other world into us. Too much, and it could draw us back to the world where the herbs came from. That’s the story I was raised on, anyway. But there haven’t been any Faery disappearances in recent memory, and very few Fae really believe in the risk. More and more Faeries have been drinking absinthe outside of the solstice ceremony. The truth is, I was one of the doubters. Not in the power of absinthe, but in the risk. So when Liz asked me to make her the absinthe…I agreed. I warned her, but I agreed.”

  “So what happened? She get sucked into that other place, or something?”

  Celia shook her head. “No, thank God. In fact, Jack—” she paused. “You know that Jack and Liz are…”

  “Shagging like bunnies? Yeah, the word’s gotten around.”

  She felt herself flushing. “They’re not just having sex. They’re in love.”

  Evan shrugged. “Good for them. You were saying?”

  “Jack didn’t like it that Liz was drinking so much absinthe. He’s been allied with the Green Fae clan for decades, and I think he suspected some of what I’ve told you, even if he didn’t know much for sure. And then, of course, Liz told him more once they were a couple. So he got Liz to quit. And then she told him—and me—about some of the dreams she’s been having.”

  She took a breath. “Now, vivid dreams are part of the absinthe experience. But what Liz described…she talked about meeting a man in the other world, a man who wanted her for his bride. I’ve had dreams like that, too, after I’ve drunk absinthe. I’ve never taken them seriously, but Liz said her dreams turned dark after she stopped. Almost like the man was angry with her. He said things, too. He told her their line is dwindling, and they need ‘hybrids’—that’s what they call those of us who aren’t pure bloods—to strengthen the line.”

  She took a breath. “And Liz started to think it might be real. Not just a dream. She thinks the Dark Fae want to pull us back to their dimension, for breeding. And she thinks they might try to take us by force.”

  Without warning, Evan’s face changed again, the fangs bursting forth and his eyes turning demon yellow. Celia froze, staring at him, and watched as Evan closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  “No one’s going to take you anywhere by force.”

  Celia felt a sudden rush of warmth. No man had ever expressed such testosterone-fuelled rage on her behalf before.

  “There’s more,” she said, trying to stay focused.

  “Yeah?”

  “After Liz and I talked, she and Jack went up to Canada to help in the fight there. There’s been unusual demon activity all along the Rockies, in Canada and America. While they were gone, I took absinthe. I wanted to see if I could guide the experience at all, like with lucid dreaming.”

  “Lucid dreaming?”

  She nodded. “That’s when you’re in a dream but realize you’re dreaming. When that happens you have a lot more control over your actions, and the dream itself. Of course an absinthe trance isn’t exactly like a regular dream, but I wanted to see if I could find out anything.”

  “And?”

  She closed her eyes, remembering the terror of what she’d seen that night. After a minute she opened them again. “I think…I think absinthe is causing it.”

  “Causing what?”

  She swallowed. “The demonic activity on Earth. When I was in the trance state, I saw the Dark Fae realm. And faeries aren’t the only creatures inhabiting it. There are demons, all the kinds of demons we’ve been fighting for centuries. We’ve always known that absinthe pulls supernatural energy from the other world. It never occurred to us that it might pull something else here, too. That we might be endangering the humans we’re sworn to protect by thinning the veils between the worlds. Opening more portals, so that the demons can cross to this plane.”

  Evan’s eyes widened. “That’s quite a theory.”

  “I know. And I went straight to my clan leaders with it—along with my recommendation.”

  “Your recommendation?”

  “That the Fae stop drinking absinthe altogether. That we destroy our wormwood gardens and every trace of the herbs from that world.”

  Evan closed his eyes and rubbed a hand across his face. “Jesus, Celia. You told them that?”

  She nodded. “My suggestion wasn’t—um—well-received. A few of the elders seemed willing to listen to me, but—”

  “It would have been better if they hadn’t been,” he said harshly. “Better if they’d all dismissed you. Because now the others perceive you as a threat to their way of life. They’re afraid you might find out more, that you might persuade some of the clan leaders to your way of thinking. And of all the idiotic things that people—human, Fae, or vampire—are willing to kill and die for, preserving their way of life is at the top of the list. Just ask the Americans who fought the Civil War. All that bloodshed, because the South couldn’t bear to give up their way of life.”

  Celia sighed. “I get that now. I mean…absinthe is so central to our culture, to who we are as a people. And we’ve always believed it’s the source of our power. If we stopped taking it, what would become of us? Maybe nothing would change…or maybe everything would. My guess, now that I’ve had a chance to think it through, is that we would…diminish. Become less powerful, more like humans.”

  “You don’t sound very bothered by that idea.”

  “I’m not. I’d become human in a heartbeat if it meant a chance to eliminate so much evil and darkness. By doing away with absinthe, we could close the door to demons entering this world. Don’t you think it would be worth giving up our powers to accomplish that? Especially since we’ve always believed the primary use of our powers to be protecting this planet and its people?”

  Her voice had turned passionate, and she took a deep breath to calm herself down. She didn’t want Evan to make fun of her. “I want to go into the trance state again, to see if I can confirm what I’ve found out. But if it turns out that I’m right, don’t you think giving up absinthe is the only logical thing to do? Not to mention the right thing to do?”

  Evan was looking at her with human eyes again, his fangs retracted. His expression was softer than she’d ever seen it as he reached out to take one
of her hands in his.

  Goose bumps shivered her skin. She looked down at where their hands were joined, and watched as he moved his thumb gently over her wrist.

  “You’re an unusual woman, Celia Albright. And yes, I agree that if you put the good of the many above the good of the few, then what you’re saying is perfectly logical—and right. But you’re asking people to voluntarily give up power. Even more than their way of life, people will fight to the death to preserve their power. I know you’re not very old, but surely you’ve learned that much about human nature?”

  Her hand was lost in his much bigger one, and it was hard to think about anything but the way his strong fingers and rough calluses felt against her softer skin.

  She forced herself to focus. “I’ve learned it now. Too late, maybe, but I’ve learned it. And I’m not sure what to do next. That’s why I wanted to stay here. So I could have a safe place to do the absinthe ritual, and figure out my next move. And to wait for Liz and Jack to get back. I know they’ll be on my side.”

  It occurred to her suddenly that with everything that had happened, she’d been assuming that Evan was on her side now, too. But maybe she shouldn’t assume that.

  She cleared her throat. “We haven’t discussed the…the terms. Whether you’ll let me stay here, under your protection—and how much you want in payment. I can offer you up to—”

  He let go of her hand, and she tried not to miss the contact.

  “Your original offer is fine,” he said, his voice cool. “Fifty thousand, if I recall.”

  Had she hurt his feelings? The idea seemed absurd, but—

  “I didn’t mean to imply…” she stopped, not sure how to finish the sentence.

  “I don’t care what you imply, love,” he said easily, sounding more like the Evan she’d first met tonight. “Whatever you think about me, I promise you the truth is worse.” He shifted again, and she wondered if his arm was hurting him. “I’ll expect you to stay within the walls of this club. You were right about the protection spells on this place; they’re powerful. I’ve spent years—and a hell of a lot of money—hiring witches and magicians to weave spells around it. It’s a fortress, and no one can get in here if I don’t want them to. But my protection doesn’t extend beyond these walls, which means you’ll stay inside. Got it?”

  She nodded.

  “All right, then. Tomorrow will be soon enough to figure out your next move—and mine. I’ll try to set up a meeting with Hawk. It’s obvious why that Jessica bird was after you—she was under orders to capture you, to bring you before her clan leaders. But Hawk’s a wild card in all this. We need to find out who hired him, and why.”

  He closed his eyes briefly. “But for now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some rest.”

  “Of course,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry I kept you talking for so long. Shank won’t be happy with me.” She hesitated. “You said you don’t want my blood, but will you at least let me try a healing spell? It might help.”

  He shrugged, his expression indifferent. “Whatever waxes your canoe. Do I need to do anything?”

  She shook her head, reaching into her waist pack for her rose quartz crystal and the tiny leather journal she used as a spell book. She warmed the crystal in one hand as she flipped to the right page.

  “I’ve never actually tried this spell before,” she said, reading over the words.

  She glanced at Evan and saw that he was smiling. “Not going to turn me into something by accident, are you? I don’t fancy spending the rest of my existence as a newt.”

  “You’re safe,” she said, smiling back at him. “If it doesn’t work, nothing bad will happen. You just won’t feel better.” She paused. “Is it all right if I touch you? I have to hold the crystal against your skin.”

  He nodded, keeping his eyes on hers. Feeling self-conscious, she laid the crystal on his chest and covered it with her palm.

  Her fingers tingled when they touched his cool skin. Then she spoke the words of the spell slowly and carefully, willing her magic into the vampire who’d gotten injured trying to save her.

  When she finished she pulled her hand away and looked at him questioningly. “Well?”

  He looked down at his forearm, frowning. Then he unwound the bandage from it, his eyebrows quirking up when he saw what was underneath. “Well is right,” he said, holding out his arm so she could see. The jagged, ugly wound was gone, replaced by a thin scar. “I’m impressed, Tinkerbell.”

  She felt inordinately pleased. “Well. I’m still hit or miss with my spells, so I’m glad this one worked.”

  “Hit or miss?”

  She nodded. “My teachers have always been frustrated with me. I’m supposed to have all this potential, but for some reason I’ve never been able to access my full power as a spellcaster. By this point, I shouldn’t always have to use a spell book, or a focusing object like the rose quartz crystal. I should be able to cast spells with my will alone, just by using a word of power, or even an image in my mind. But I’ve never been able to do that.”

  He looked interested. “Why do you think that is?”

  “Well…Yana, one of my teachers, told me it’s a combination of things. She says I have to believe in myself more, that an important component of magic is having faith in your own ability. She also says I have to want it more. She thinks if my need or desire is strong enough, the power will be there.”

  Evan smiled a little. “So you’ve never experienced strong desire?”

  Her cheeks heated. “I…not like…the kind Yana was talking about.”

  His eyes were fixed on hers. “I don’t think you’ve felt the other kind of desire, either. Or if you have, it’s never been satisfied. You can correct me if I’m wrong, of course. But you don’t have the scent of a satisfied woman.”

  A rush of curiosity warred with embarrassment. But her curiosity, always her greatest weakness, won out.

  “What does a satisfied woman smell like?”

  She regretted the question as soon as she blurted it out, but it was too late.

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “Depends on the woman. Some have a briny scent, like the sea. Some smell like sugared lemons or blackberry juice. Some are spicy, like cardamom or anise or cloves.”

  It wasn’t what she’d been expecting at all. “And…what do I smell like?” She couldn’t believe she’d asked another question, but for some reason she had to know the answer. What did she smell like to a vampire?

  Evan studied her for a moment, his eyes opaque. “Like linen too fine for common use, so it’s been packed away in a cedar chest, with rose hips and lavender water.”

  Rose and lavender weren’t bad smells. They were good smells, in fact. But for some reason, she found Evan’s description almost unbearably depressing. It made her feel dowdy and frumpy, like an old woman.

  Then he went on.

  “That’s on the surface. Underneath…” He paused. “Something bright and fierce, like…” he paused again. “Like when you look straight at the sun for a second. That moment when your eyes water and you feel a sneeze coming on.”

  Contrary to popular myth, sunlight didn’t hurt vampires. But they were nocturnal, and typically slept during the day and woke after sunset. Celia wondered if Evan were remembering his days as a human, or if he were one of the rare vampires who chose to spend time outdoors when the sun was shining.

  “I smell like a sneeze?”

  It was an odd description, but somehow she liked it better than the other one.

  A corner of his mouth lifted again. “Sort of.”

  They looked at each other for a moment, and Celia was intensely aware of Evan’s bare chest, his powerful arms and smooth skin…and his mahogany eyes fixed on hers.

  And then she was aware of her own body, of a tingling warmth suffusing her, and of something coiling low in her belly.

  Desire.

  Suddenly afraid he could smell that, too, she rose quickly to her feet. “Good night, Evan. And…tha
nks. For saving my life.”

  “Ditto,” was all he said, but his brown eyes were warm as they looked at her.

  Another rivulet of sensation washed through her. They stayed like that for another minute, neither of them speaking or moving.

  Evan was the first one to break the silence.

  “Your man’ll be worried about you,” he said abruptly. “You should call him, tell him you’re going out of town for a few weeks. You can call other people, too—anyone who might miss you. We don’t want anyone to send out a search party.”

  She tried to sound as business-like as he did. “That’s a good idea. I will. Well…good night,” she said again. This time she turned and walked away, not stopping until she reached the door.