Cursed (10 page)

“Grey, man, you good?”

Greyvian clenched his jaw to keep the curse that was on the tip of his tongue from escaping.

“Are we gonna have a problem? Cause I’m growing quite fond of the female and would hate if something happened to her.”

Keeping his mouth shut, he counted to ten and hoped the male would go away.

“Seriously, Grey. You need to stop obsessing over her.”

That did it. He turned abruptly and stared the blonde down. “What the hell would you know about it?” he hissed, keeping his voice quiet so as not to wake the female. “You’ve probably never been hungry a day in your life, let alone felt the kind of agony starvation can bring. You, with your feeding partners at your beck and call, waiting around until you get peckish and get around to having a nibble. Well, I don’t have that luxury.”

Knox stared at him in shock, apparently speechless for once in his life. Furious that he had said anything at all, Greyvian slashed his hand and spun around, retreating to the bathroom; in effect, fleeing from the blonde.

*  *  *

Knox stared in the direction Greyvian had gone, totally stunned. So the male wasn’t quite the automaton he’d always thought him to be. Sure, he’d gotten a glimpse or two since Sienna had started making waves, but this was the cherry on top.

It was hard to reconcile the Greyvian he’d known for the past century with this new volatile male with black eyes. It seemed to him almost as if he’d stepped into Alice’s Wonderland, where up was down and down was up. Where humans were Aware and smelled better than anything he’d ever caught scent of in his life, and vampires who were previously emotionless were now seething with rage.

Had Greyvian always hidden his emotions behind an iron-hard facade of diffidence, or was emotion a new thing for the guy? He cast his mind back to the first time he’d met the male to see if he could find any clues in the memory.

The cave was cold and dark, not the kind of place he would expect a fellow vampire to be living, but the male he had come to see was not your average vampire. Greyvian, the human killer; the only vampire in existence who required the blood of humans in order to thrive. He’d been hearing about and reading the stories ever since his transition, but he’d always taken them for fiction. That was, until he’d gone and impregnated a female and been given the gift of a son. A son who was going to have to go through the transition that had almost killed him.

There was no way in hell he was going to allow his son to suffer in the same way—and with only a twenty-five percent chance of survival—if there was anything he could do about it. Ever since Lucas’s birth, he had been searching for a method to improve their chances of survival, but it wasn’t until the latest stories on Greyvian that he had actually given the male serious thought. Did he really exist? If so, why did he require human blood? More importantly, could that be of help during transition?

If they were human before the change, then wouldn’t a human-blood-drinking vampire be a certain method of survival? It was definitely worth the effort of finding the elusive male.

Making his way through the long, narrow corridor of the cave, he held his glowing torch behind himself so as not to impede his vision with the bright glow. He wanted to be ready when he finally came upon the male, as he knew not what the reaction to intrusion would be. Especially an intrusion by one such as he.

“Are you lost?” echoed an ethereal voice from the darkness beyond.

With a start, Knox managed not to drop his torch. He’d had no idea that Greyvian was near. Normally there was some indication of a living being nearby, some small noise, some sense of a presence, but not this time. Not with this male. Clearing his throat, he hoped for the best. “Forgive me for the intrusion, but if you are the male that I seek, I would ask a boon of thee.”

Nothing. The other vampire was silent. The only sound Knox could hear was his own harsh breathing and the crackling of his torch as he waited.

“What boon?” came the final reply, the voice inflectionless, ghostly in its lack of emotion or interest.

Knox cleared his throat once again, nervous before the unseen presence. In his fifty or so years alive he couldn’t remember ever feeling quite this uneasy. “I would ask that you provide assistance when my son transitions.”

The silence was longer this time. So long that he wondered if maybe the male had left the cave by some back passage he didn’t know about. Without a sound to announce his movements, a tall male with long dark hair suddenly appeared in the glow of the torch.

His face was beautiful, angelic even, but that was where the resemblance to an angel ended. The male’s light eyes were utterly devoid of anything resembling emotion—a cold abyss that left Knox with a bone-deep chill.

Greyvian took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. “Half-breed.”

Knox searched the male’s face for any sign of aggression, but Greyvian’s expression had not changed in the slightest since appearing. Either the male was stating the obvious that his son was a half-breed, or somehow, through scent alone, Greyvian knew Knox’s lineage. Whatever the reason, he felt that honesty was his best course of action.

“We are,” he replied simply and waited.

“What assistance do you think I could provide?”

“I have a theory that perchance your blood may be the key to increased survival.”

Greyvian’s light, colourless eyes appraised him for a long moment, distantly thoughtful but betraying no emotion one way or another. “Is that so?” the male finally replied, giving nothing away through his tone of voice.

“Please! I barely survived my transition. I do not want that for my son.”

The full-blood looked deep into his eyes, and still, no emotion crossed his face. Knox could see that he was mulling it over, but it seemed to be a completely detached flow of thought, a cold intelligence that seemed to be weighing the pros and cons of the situation without a trace of empathy.

“How close to transition is he?”

Feeling a flutter of hope, Knox tried to keep his voice steady as he replied, “No more than a week.”

“You have left your supplication to the last moment.” There was no surprise or disapproval in the male’s voice; it was simply a question without inflection. A mere statement of fact even?

“You are a hard male to find, Greyvian. It has taken me five years.”

“Hmmm,” the full-blood mused, seeming to think it over.

Knox waited, his heart in his throat.

“Very well. I shall provide assistance.”

Knox was stunned. “For certain? But I have offered nothing in return.”

“What is your name, half-breed?”

Oh, no! He hoped he had not offended the full-blood and caused him to change his mind; although, he could not tell from Greyvian’s tone of voice if he had caused offence.

“It’s Knox, Sir, ah, Greyvian, Sir.” How did the male prefer to be addressed?

“Well, Knox, fear not. I desire nothing in return, for I desire nothing at all.”

Nothing? Surely not? But on the other hand, the male did live in a cave.

“Then why would you help a half-breed?” The question was out of his mouth before he could think better of it.

There was a moment of silence where he feared that the full-blood had changed his mind, but then the male said in his completely inflectionless voice, “I have my reasons.”

To this day, Knox had no idea what those reasons were. Greyvian had helped dozens of half-breeds transition and had never asked any of them for a single favour in return. The male was giving certain life to others, and yet, he asked for nothing. It had remained a source of curiosity for Knox, but, as yet, he was no closer to an answer than he had been a century ago. For the longest time, he had simply put it down to the full-blood’s lack of emotion. Greyvian helped half-breeds because they asked and the male could see no reason, or felt no cause, to deny them the help.

But now he wasn’t so sure. Perhaps there was a deeper drive to the male than he ever would have thought possible. If Greyvian
did
feel emotion, then perhaps he felt remorse for the countless human lives that he had taken over the past centuries and continued to take to this very day. Perhaps that was what drove him to help.

At that moment, Greyvian came out of the bathroom, his eyes still black as death and about as warm. Okay, perhaps he was fishing? Looking for humanity where there was none?

“You still here?” Greyvian muttered, his previous anger hidden behind the icy surface of his black stare.

Knox shrugged, unable to think of a convenient excuse as to his lingering presence. Sure, he could say he was looking after Sienna’s wellbeing, but that wasn’t one hundred percent true. Still, Greyvian didn’t have to know that.

“I’m going out,” the full-blood said, not even glancing into Sienna’s room as he brushed past. “I won’t be far.”

Knox frowned and followed Greyvian with his eyes. The male was so hot and cold lately. Was it just Sienna that was affecting him or was it something else? Perhaps it was the knowledge that he had a son? That he would be passing his curse on to another vampire?

Mulling the thought over, he strolled back into the lounge room and sank down onto the couch beside Lucas.

“Do you think there’s any truth to the rumours that Greyvian is insane?” Knox asked his son after a moment.

Lucas raised an eyebrow in a way that asked are
you
insane?

“Seriously,” he said, thinking about it. “The male has been killing humans for three centuries straight and has never given any indication that he cares or intends to stop. And he spent the first sixteen years of his life in a state of constant starvation. That’s got to mess with your head, right?”

Lucas, ever the logical thinker, pointed out an important fact that he was overlooking. “Allegedly. Those stories have never been confirmed.”

“You’re saying you don’t think he kills humans?”

Lucas shrugged. “I’m just saying that we don’t know everything there is to know—or really anything, come to think of it. It’s not like either of us has ever seen the male feed.”

“True enough. But if he does kill them? Do you think he feels any remorse? Do you think he feels anything at all?”

His son thought it over in his quiet way, the keen intelligence in his eyes obvious to anyone who thought to look. “Before today I would have said no, but now....?”

Now, indeed. Now things were different. Now Greyvian was a bit of a live-wire. Unpredictable, emotional for the first time in forever. Now he was really interesting.

6

Breathe, Greyvian. Just breathe.

Leaning his head back against the hard brick of the building, he closed his eyes and tried to will himself back to normal. It wasn’t working. He could feel the emotions inside of him bubbling and boiling, the inner turmoil quickly becoming more than he could bear. He felt hot, his palms sweaty, his skin itchy. Like a drug addict jonesing for his next fix. He couldn’t bear to be away from Sienna. The absence of her scent made him uneasy beyond measure.

Breathe, Greyvian. Breathe.

He drew in a lungful of crisp night air, but it did nothing to calm him. His teeth ached from the constant up and down they’d been doing since he’d met the female and it seemed as if his veins were on fire with longing. Right now there was nothing he wanted more than to go back upstairs, sink his fangs into the smooth skin of Sienna’s neck, and drain her of every last delicious drop of blood.

His breath went in and out too quickly, his chest constricting with the need for oxygen. Christ, now he was hyperventilating. What the hell was wrong with him?

He needed to feed. That would make it all better, surely.

Opening his eyes, he tried to lose focus and let his second sight pick his victim, but it wasn’t working. He couldn’t relax, couldn’t concentrate. His entire world was going up in flames and he was helpless to stop it.

As his heart beat a mile a minute and his chest heaved with each constricted breath, the dark city streets started to swing wildly from side to side as if he were on a boat in the middle of a stormy ocean. Stomach rolling with nausea, hands clenched into fists, he struggled to remain where he was standing, struggled to keep himself from flying up to the apartment and ending his misery once and for all.

Just when he thought he was about to lose it completely, the answer to his conundrum appeared as if he had called them out of the ether. Immediately, his breathing slowed and his senses focused outward as he felt a familiar pressure in his skull, a tightening in his frontal lobe that signalled the arrival of another vampire; two of them, in fact. Looking to his right, he spotted them. One was tall, maybe six foot three, the other shorter. Both were blondes. Both were on alert, looking for him in return.

When they finally spotted him, they slowed, cautious, as they tried to determine if he were friend or foe. Stepping away from the building, Greyvian stopped in the middle of the footpath, facing them.

The shorter of the two turned his face slightly to the other and spoke so quietly that Greyvian almost couldn’t hear him.

Almost.

“If I’m not mistaken, I think that’s Greyvian Kobussen.”

The taller one raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Isn’t he just a legend?”

The shorter shook his head. “No. John-lee had a run-in with him a few years ago, he’s real enough, believe me. I had to help him heal. Besides, look at him. He’s the spitting image of his father.”

The tall one looked at Greyvian speculatively. “He’s a bit more attractive, actually.”

The short one snorted a laugh. “Don’t let Kobus here you say that.”

Greyvian felt an odd ache at the mention of his father’s name.

“Do you think he really drinks human blood?” the tall one asked, still talking quietly, thinking Greyvian couldn’t hear.

Feeling reckless, Greyvian grinned at them in reply. “I do, and it’s delicious,” he said, keeping his gaze on the shorter of the two. If anyone was going to back away from this, it would be him, and he needed the male to commit to violence. He needed to be freed from this agony, Jacob be damned.

“Fuck, you could hear us?” the taller one asked, shocked stupid—although that didn’t seem such a stretch for the guy.

“Obviously,” Greyvian said, rolling his eyes.

“I thought he was meant to be ice-cold?” the taller mumbled to his companion.

The short one shrugged slightly and continued to study him, trying to get his measure.

“Why don’t I make this easy for you,” Greyvian said, spreading his arms wide and assuming a relaxed stance. “Take a free shot. I won’t defend myself, or retaliate.”

The short one was clearly wary, but the taller seemed ready to go and didn’t waste any time in taking a step forward. His companion grabbed his arm, clearly cautious, and said, “Dude, are you mental? It’s a trick.”

“No trick,” Greyvian assured, keeping his arms held wide.

The taller one turned his head to his friend and whispered, “Kobus will reward us if we bring him Greyvian’s head. You know he’s been hunting him for centuries.”

Unconvinced, but obviously tempted by the thought of a reward, the short one made a face and let go of his companion. With a grin, the taller male turned to Greyvian and closed the distance within a matter of strides.

He was strong and didn’t hold back.

Pain exploded in Greyvian’s jaw, hot and sharp, wiping out all thought in the wake of the blow. Oh, sweet abyss. Closing his eyes, he gave himself to the feel of it, to the fierce agony that seemed to take some of the focus off his inner turmoil. Straightening his head, he opened his eyes and smiled at the male, motioning for him to have another go.

The blonde shook his head, amused, and then hit him again, this time on the other side of his face. From there, the other one joined in and he couldn’t keep track of where they hit, or how many times, but the more pain they inflicted, the fuzzier his thoughts became, until he was no longer able to think at all.

It was bliss.

Once the pair had had their fun with violence, he felt the familiar stab of fangs in his flesh, one at the neck, another at the wrist. As the two males fed from him, he closed his eyes and waited for death, for surely they would drain him and then end it once and for all.

“Christ,” the tall one said, taking a breather. “He tastes pretty fucking good.”

“Must be the human blood,” the shorter one replied.

Both went back to their feeding.

As the blood was drained from Greyvian’s body, an unexpected thing happened. Clarity of thought returned to his foggy brain. It seemed that along with the blood, the wild emotions that he had been feeling these past few hours also drained away, leaving him level-headed once again. He took a short moment to muse over the possible cause and had to put it down to the drugs that had been in his previous victim’s blood.

Vowing to himself that he would never again drink from a tainted source, he smoothly slipped a dagger from the small of his back. With a quick flick of his wrist, he sliced a large gash across the taller attacker’s midsection, driving deep enough to separate the layers of muscle and reveal the male’s innards, but not deep enough to rupture the ropey length. Enough to incapacitate, but not enough to kill. As his attacker gasped and detached himself from Greyvian’s neck, his hands clutching at his belly in an attempt to keep his intestines inside his body, Greyvian drove his dagger into the fleshy shoulder of the other male who screamed and fell away, freeing Greyvian’s wrist.

Feeling slightly light-headed and a little nauseous from the blood loss, Greyvian licked the wound at his wrist closed. As he applied saliva to his fingers and rubbed them over the wounds in his neck, his attackers stared up at him in confusion, unable to comprehend how an easy attack had turned out so wrong.

“Forgive me for going back on my word,” he told them, his voice once again inflectionless without effort. “I was not myself when I made that offer.”

They stared at him, uncomprehending.

Flippantly, he added, “You two really should heal each other before you bleed out all over the pavement.”

With that, he turned and headed down the alley, hoping to come across a suitable candidate to replenish his blood loss. He was in luck. Two blocks down, he found a pair of them. When he was through with them, he felt better than he had since the day had begun. Fully sated, level-headed, he felt as if he had awakened from a nightmare.

Back outside the apartment, he was heartened to find that his attackers had cleared out. Hopefully they didn’t come to the conclusion that he was at the building for a purpose other than getting the shit beaten out of him by the first vampire that came by. With the wounds they’d sustained, he didn’t think they’d think about it too closely for a while, either way. By the time they figured that perhaps he had business in the area, he and Jacob would be long gone—not that he couldn’t deal with them if they decided to gain retribution for the deception. It would be more an inconvenience than anything. A disruption, if you will, to his normally peaceful existence. And he’d had quite enough of them lately to last a lifetime.

Opening the door to the apartment, he waited for Sienna’s scent to knock him for six but caught only a faint trace of the mind-altering perfume. His thirst remained dormant. Distantly relieved, he headed across the living room, noting absently that both half-breeds had retired for the evening on the sofa bed Sienna had mentioned. Aiming for the bathroom, he walked right through an invisible cloud of that delicious aroma that had snapped him out of his cool right at the beginning. It still had the power to arouse his thirst, even fully sated, but at least his mind remained clear.

He must be getting used to it.

With little effort, he continued on through the heady stuff and closed the door to the bathroom. On first glance in the mirror, he felt a mild sense of relief that the half-breeds were asleep. Explaining the multitude of bruises and dried blood on his face and neck would have been tedious. Peering at his neck, he saw that there were two puncture marks that had not yet healed. He shook his head in mild disbelief. If someone had told him a week ago that he would willingly allow some fellow full-bloods to beat the living crap out of him and then drain him almost dry, he never would have believed them. Was it all just bad blood, or did Sienna’s scent have anything to do with it?

His memory from before the tainted blood was slightly influenced with the emotional overtones from those few hours, but he couldn’t hide from the fact that he had reacted emotionally to her scent even before he had fed from the ill man. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t forget that he had been aroused by her, angered by his reaction, and then driven by some unknown desire to talk to her. So, no, it wasn’t just the bad blood that had him behaving strangely. He just hoped that he could keep a lid on it long enough to see his son’s transition through.

If he could just keep it together that long he would then be free of her. He would never have to see, or smell, her again. It was an effort to ignore that newly awakened part of his brain that cried out at the thought.

*  *  *

Sienna’s dreams during the night had been filled with a certain black-eyed male doing fabulous things to her body, so it was no surprise that she woke up happy. Even if it had only been in dreamland, it was better than nothing. Better than the unfulfilled desire of reality. In her dreams, he had loved her with his body, brought her to a spectacular climax, and then followed her over the edge with one of his own.

If only.

Still buzzing from her release, she grabbed her clothes and then headed out to the bathroom for a quick shower. On the way, she poked her head into Jacob’s room to check on his progress. He was lying sideways on his bed, the covers tangled around his legs, his bare chest covered in sweat. Even as she watched, he rolled over, groaning loudly, and mumbled something incoherent. His skin was ashen and pasty; he looked like death. She hoped this transition came soon. Even though he slept, she had a feeling he suffered.

Closing the door, but not latching it, she went into the bathroom and had a shower, all the while thinking about Greyvian; wondering if he was really as intense as she remembered, or if her memory had just pumped him up to be something larger than life.

For as long as she lived, she would never forget that kiss in the hallway.

Stepping out of the shower, she dried quickly and pulled on her underwear. A tingling sense of anticipation caused her to rush through her makeup application with a lightning fast foundation job, a little eyeliner, and a dash of mascara, followed by a few strokes of a hairbrush that transformed her hair into a glossy mass that would usually take ten minutes to achieve. She took it as a sign that today was going to be a good day and grinned at her reflection as she slipped into a flirty sundress, strategically chosen for its ability to show off her legs and boobs to their utmost potential.

She knew she was being cruel, that she should take Knox’s words to heart and stay away from Greyvian to lessen his torment, but that dream just wouldn’t fade away and she found herself wanting Greyvian more than ever. The desire increased tenfold as she passed the spot in the hallway that was the site of last night’s passion.

Entering the living room, she wasn’t surprised to find the curtains drawn and Knox and Lucas asleep on the fold-out. It had been two in the morning when she’d gone to bed after finally being able to draw herself away from the black-eyed gaze of the hottest male she’d ever had the fortune to meet. She’d been well aware that he’d been watching her all night, but had been too tired to feel anything but a mild excitement over the fact. Now that it was ten a.m. and she’d had some quality sleep, she felt capable of going a few more rounds with the vampire.