Limerence II (18 page)

We walk along
the riverbank, my heels clacking against the cobblestones. Evan trails after me, his hands clasped in front of him as he constantly cracks his knuckles. His look is dark, anger and frustration driving him onwards. His eyes are almost black, his skin flushed. His hair is loose around his face, and even as the wind blows it in front of his eyes, he does nothing to brush it away, so much of his concentration is on me.

He cracks his knuckles again and I turn, bringing us both to an abrupt stop. He frowns down at me, his lips puckering in further annoyance as he nearly plows in to me.

“If you insist on following me, I must insist that you stop that.” I stop and look around me, assessing each person that passes me for their own merit.

Evan sidles up next to me, his knuckles still cracking. “Does it irritate you?” he rumbles.

I ignore his comment. It, like most things he says, are only said to irritate me. I roll my eyes at him and continue to look around, but his large frame obstructs my view.

“Don’t do this,” he pleads again, his deep voice gruff like sandpaper. “Mia,” he murmurs her name.

I turn to look in the other direction, but his body once more obstructs my view. I look up into his face—his smooth olive skin and deep brown eyes that stare into mine, pleading with me to free her. I can see what Mia liked about him, though I’m personally beginning to find him irritating.

There’s no denying his attraction, however. But I can’t shake him; he barely leaves my side for a moment—him and his relentless knuckle cracking.

“Move, or I’ll move you,” I snap.

“You can try,” he retorts with a low chuckle.

“I can cause a scene, killing several of these people before you could even think to stop me.” I quirk an eyebrow and watch him scowl and step aside.

“You’re going to do that anyway.” He grumbles like a sullen child.

“Well that part is true,” I say innocently, my eyes fixing on a young teenage girl with a tattered backpack slung over one shoulder. “Anyway, I am merely taking a life to feed a life.”

“It’s someone else’s life that you are taking!” he yells, drawing attention from passersby. He turns and looks away from them, uncomfortable with their stares.

“Why do you see it as taking, Evan? I am giving them so much more than I am taking from them. This is a life they would choose if they knew about it to begin with.” I follow the teenage girl, with Evan closely by my side again.

“What if I stop you from doing this? What then?” His accent is stronger because he’s angry, and it stirs something inside of me, the ember flames reaching up and licking at my insides. He juts out his chin in challenge and I laugh loudly.

“You can try,” I repeat his earlier words back to him and he scowls.

Because he
can
try. And I would enjoy the fight, but I would win. Now that I am in charge of this body and that weak little vampire Mia is buried deep down, I have no restraints. Evan, on the other hand, does. He’s strong, no doubt, but he fears hurting this body—fears harming his precious Little Mia—and therefore he is weak.

Those that love are always the weakest.

“What are we even doing here, Mia?”

I stop and turn, my pupils dilating, a low growl emanating in my chest. “My name,” I accentuate each word with a jab to his hard chest, “is Maya. Mia is gone. She is never coming back, so please stop insulting me by calling me that or I’ll be forced to take issue with you,” I snarl, staring up at him.

His jaw twitches, yet he refrains from his usual action of grinding it. “And what would you do if I don’t stop?” His pupils dilate, anger bursting from his aura in a cloud of red and black.

A slow smile creeps up my face. “You want to know?” I bait him. “How about I give you a taster?”

He furrows his brow at me and I’m sure that he’s about to tell me no, but it’s too late as I turn and grab the woman that is walking past us. I grip her by the back of her coat and throw her fragile human body, sending it flailing through the air like a rag doll. Her young child cries out as his hand is snatched from hers, and he’s both startled and confused by what just happened. I grip the young boy’s fragile neck in my hand and raise him up in between me and Evan. The child gags and chokes, his face turning purple as I tighten my grip on him. He is barely five or six, and people stop when they see what is happening.

The mother is screaming in the distance but unable to get up, and I chance a glance at her and laugh loudly. Her poor, delicate human body hangs pierced on some metal railings. She is watching us—watching me with her boy—even while her life ebbs away, choking on her own blood. Other humans have noticed now, looking between me and the mother, and then one by one they scream and flee.

I laugh louder, feeling the bones of the boy beneath my palm. “One small squeeze and he is dead, Evan. What will you do?”

Furious anger, almost palpable, evaporates around him, and he lowers his head. His shoulders tremble with pent-up rage at me. He lowers to one knee, making it clear who he now submits to, who he now works for.

“That’s what I thought,” I reply, and release the child.

In an action swifter than wind, Evan has him in his arms. The boy is limp, his heartbeat weak. He shall not last more than a minute, his body too starved for oxygen. I lean over, biting down into the child’s neck, drinking whilst I simultaneously feed him my blood.

I stand up and pull a tissue from my pocket, dabbing the corner of my mouth. In the distance the wails of ambulances and police echo. I look up at Evan. He is horrified and angry, fear covering this huge beast of man, and seeming so out of place that I nearly feel pity for him.

“He is yours to nurture or kill, Evan. Go home and I will be there shortly to see your decision.” I stare at him, my chin jutting out as I wait for his answer. “And don’t ever say that I am uncaring of these pathetic humans.”

He nods and shudders. It runs the full length of his hard body, and I can’t help but find it strangely erotic: a man such as him, bowing down to me.

I smile again, retracting my fangs, and turn away. I will have that man in my bed, no matter what the consequences. I pass the boy’s mother as I leave. She is dead, her body limp against the railings, yet I still sample the blood that trails from her mouth. I am happy when all I taste is human, and nothing underlying in her taste. Yes, I am happy knowing that she is not what I was searching for. She is not a loss to me, and her son shall not remember her. I shall be his new mother, and he my child to bend and shape as I will, if I so please.

Such fun we will have.

Her steps speed
up, and I increase my pace to match hers. I don’t need to, but the thrill of the chase, I have found, is my favourite part.

She glances back over her shoulder, her features pinched in worry. I’ve been following her for three blocks now, down winding streets and in and out of shops. The chase is almost at an end, though, as she blindly heads down a one-way street.

I slow my speed, examining my nails as I turn the final corner, and she nearly runs straight into me as she realises her mistake a second too late. There is no escape. She stumbles backwards, her hands held up defensively, her eyes attempting to look around me for help. But no help is coming.

“Why are you following me?” she splutters, anger overriding her fear. She takes another step back.

I point to myself and feign ignorance. “Me? I wasn’t following you.” I stare her down, enjoying the sight of her as she cowers under my glare.

She’s young, with purple and blond hair and a ring through her nose. I like that she has spunk, that she has fire in her belly. I watch the colours swirl around her. They are different from the other humans, and I know I have found a good one.

She grips the strap of her backpack, which is haphazardly thrown over one shoulder. It’s tattered and frayed, with buttons and graffiti written over it, yet she clutches it like it’s the most precious thing in the world. It makes me curious.

“What is in your bag?” I ask, pointing at it.

She glances at it and then back to me. “None of your damn business, lady. Now move out of my way.” She attempts to push past me, but of course I don’t move, and she gets even more frustrated by her thwarted attempts and tries again. “Move out of my way before I scream.”

Her eyes are blue and wild, small volcanoes of hate beneath the surface of them. It makes me feel…excited. I clap with glee, my fangs releasing, and as I push her hard against the wall with a low growl, her head bangs solidly and makes her go dizzy. I hold her upright, pinning her in place with my hands on either shoulder. She struggles, but it’s only minimal: her head is still swimming.

She struggles to focus on me. “What are you? Some sort of pervert?” she asks groggily.

I laugh loudly and her eyes narrow in on my fangs. She looks confused and frightened, and the feel of her blood pumping just beneath her skin excites me even more.

“I’m worse than a pervert, little girl.” I open my mouth wide, hissing at her. “I’m a vampire, and I don’t sparkle.” I press my face against her throat as she utters the start of a scream. I cut it short, my teeth piercing her soft flesh, which tastes of dirt and streets, foul air, and car fumes. I press on until my teeth sink all the way in, my lips forming a vacuum around her neck, and her blood rushes forth to meet my eager tongue, igniting the fire inside me.

I swallow greedily, like a parched woman finding an oasis in a desert, gulping down her blood and feeling it burn my throat. I gasp and pry my mouth free from her. Part of me begs to continue—she tastes so good, like dreams and cotton candy, but another part knows that I need her. Or I will soon.

I lean forwards, sniffing her, feeling my throat purr for more of her sweet nectar, but I hold on to my self-restraint, bite into her again, and deliver my venom into her—my blood. Her body goes limp, and I let her sag against me before letting her slide slowly to the ground.

Wiping my mouth, I call to Evan. I know he has returned: I sensed him following me a block ago, his musky scent full of masculinity and heat, and I feel him—though that is both disturbing and equally fascinating, since we have never shared blood. How can I feel him if he is not mine? It is puzzling, and irritating. My body feels drawn to him, no matter how hard I block him.

“Evan, come collect my recruit,” I snap at him.

Seconds pass and he walks from the shadows, standing beside me and staring down at the young girl, his knuckles cracking once more.

“What have you done now?” he asks darkly, his voice like gravel.

“Do not worry yourself about it. Just bring her back home. We need to find more supplies. She will be thirsty when she wakes.” I turn away from the girl and Evan and head out of the alleyway, needing to be away from him—from his smell, his body, his voice, and his damn knuckle-cracking.

“Where are you going?” he asks, his voice close behind me.

“That doesn’t concern you,” I reply without turning, but as I start to walk away his hand grips my bicep and stops me.

His mouth is next to my ear, and he whispers, “Tell me what you are planning, Maya.” He punctuates my name, and I spin to face him with a smile.

“You said my name.” I can’t help the overriding emotions that come with the sound of my name on his lips, and worse still, I can’t hide them from him. He looks deep into my eyes, his face inches from mine. We’re so close I can hardly see his aura; his scent is overwhelming me, driving me crazy and making my stomach hurt.

“I did,” he replies.

“Why?” I narrow my eyes.

“Because you said she is gone, forever.” He pauses before continuing with a much darker expression. “And after seeing what you are capable of, I agree. She is gone, because she would never do this.” He gestures towards the young girl, his jaw twitching as he looks deep into my face as if searching her out—his Mia. But like he said, she is gone, and I see the deep sorrow in his eyes with that acceptance.

I roll my eyes at him. “You act like she is innocent.”

“She is. She never harmed people like this.”

I step back, putting space between us, more for my sake than his. Because being this close to him makes me feel out of control. “No? So she didn’t drink from Sabrina—the redhead back at the house? She didn’t drink from her knowing that she was aware of what was happening and that the poor human girl was frightened? And she didn’t drink from the poor boy in the Commons, tapping directly into his vein even though she could see how weak he was?” I sneer. “No, poor innocent Mia was just that…or was she? Because I was inside her and I saw her thoughts, I felt the things that she wanted to do, and if it were not for you she would have done those things a thousand times over, so this,” I gesture to the unconscious girl on the floor, “this is your doing. You and your innocent Little Mia.”

Evan meets my glare, but as the seconds pass, he looks down. “You are right,” he says solemnly.

I step back from further him, heat unravelling in my stomach at the sight of him so wracked in grief and pain, at the look of pure vulnerability on his face. “I have things to do,” I say.

I see the disappointment in his eyes, the profound sorrow that is burrowing deep inside of him and threatening to swallow him whole. He continues to look down, unable to meet my stare now.

“Take her back to the house. I‘ll be there soon,” I say tersely.

I should feel happy that he has finally accepted his loss and that he is still here regardless, doing my bidding. I should feel some sort of pleasure from that—that perhaps he will come around to me, that maybe I can make him mine—but I don’t. I just feel annoyed, and thirsty. I look blankly upon him, his chiselled jaw clenching and unclenching, his eyes soft and sad. He wants to argue, I can sense it on the tip of his tongue. He’s not used to taking orders from anyone but the queen, and yet here I am treating him like nothing more than a thug bodyguard. But he does as I ask, bowing his head slightly as he finally turns away.

I leave Evan to deal with the girl, and head off to spend some time with myself. Sabrina and some of the others are out hunting humans for food, I have found three more recruits today, and Evan has succumbed to me. Everything is going as planned. Everything is organised and running smoothly, and it is all happening as quickly as I wanted it to. Yet I feel something close to despair burning in my stomach.

My powers are growing again, and that makes me nervous. More power is of course what I want, but I want the dependable kind, with people I can bend to my whim, not powers that fluctuate and grow, constantly changing and leaving me vulnerable. This sort of power I cannot depend on nor control. I don’t understand them, or how and why they are changing, but I can feel them adapting and altering me. I taste it with every human I feed upon: the way the human blood no longer satisfies my craving, the way it tastes bitter now upon my tongue. And yet with every alteration to me, my hunger grows. Not just that I need to feed there and then, but that I require more and more blood to merely survive each change, each tiny alteration to my DNA.

My steps are rapid, quicker than that of a human but not so much as to draw too much attention to myself. I don’t know where I am going, or where I am aiming for, but I need to move. The feeling in my muscles to keep going, to not keep still, is unnerving, but one that I cannot ignore. It’s not until I am several miles away that I can slow myself and eventually stop. My head is pounding again, the urge to feed growing once more. The tingling in my fingers tells me that I am changing once more, and I snarl at the thought.

I am growing stronger, but to what consequence?

I spy a small bar, modern from the outside, with cream awnings hanging over tables on the outside. Small fairy lights are wrapped around several trees, and I can see people entering with smiles on their faces. The early evening music sounds louder as the door is opened and someone goes inside. The door closes behind them, drowning the music back out.

I hurry over and look in through the windows, seeing the place a little over half-full with people—men and women of all ages and races standing together, drinking and socialising, enjoying their lives. Anger burns through me that they could be so happy with such a pitiful existence. It almost feels like they are mocking me, that they think the life they lead is acceptable and enough, when in truth they do not know what is really out there. That the dangers that lurk in the shadows and haunt their dreams are true.

My hand turns the cool silver handle and I step inside, letting the music embrace me, the smell of liquor hanging in the air. I head straight to the bar and order a drink: a bottle of beer to quench my thirst. The barman hands it to me, his blue eyes lingering a moment longer than necessary. He smiles and runs a hand through his short dark hair, and I return a smile and turn my back to him, examining all the other people.

How ignorant they all are.

Talking, flirting, drinking, all without a care in the world, as if they are safe here in their little bubbles of happiness. Yet there is nothing special about any of them. They are all weak, and inconsequential. No one shall miss them if they should die. The world will not cry out for them. They are pathetic little nothings.

I tip the cold beer down my throat and then frown down at the bottle. The beer is ice cold, and yet as it trails its way down my insides it is no longer cold but burning hot. My tongue and lips feel almost blistered from it, and I drop the bottle with a gasp of pain, watching as it slams to the ground, the frothy beer exploding from it. My hand clutches my throat and I pant in pain.

Is this drink poisoned, or is this some new alteration? I look around me in concern, wondering if there are perhaps spies of the Queen trying to kill me. A hand touches my back, and concerned voices are in my ears and as the pain slowly begins to subside. I stand upright and look at the humans around me, all showing such concern for me. The hatred I have for them overflows at the patronisation. As if I would ever need their help or concern. I release my fangs and snarl at them, yet they continue to stare at me dumbfounded, unsure of what they are seeing and what this really means for them.

I feel the laugh bubbling up from my toxic stomach before it even leaves my lips. My body wants blood now and only blood—nothing else will serve it. I grab the bartender, who has now come from around the bar. I grip the front of his crisp white cotton shirt in my hand and drag him closer to me before leaning down and biting into his throat, tearing out his neck. Blood gushes from him, covering both me and him in a spray of red, and I finally hear the sound I have been waiting for.

The panicked cries and screams of humans.

My blood feels alive as I let his body fall to the floor in a crumpled heap of lifeless bones before turning to them all with a devilish grin. And then I attack with furious vengeance. Blood splays across my front as I attack human after human. I hiss and snarl like a feral cat, and before the next person can move I am upon them, tearing throats from necks, blood exploding around me in a river of red. I hold no prejudice against man or woman, black or white, I do not care because they all are filled with the same thing that I want—that I need.

I drag them away from the doors as they try to escape, leaving fingernails and scores from scratches in the thick wooden door. I trap them inside with me, breaking legs and pinning them to walls with chair legs while I gorge myself on their fellow humans’ blood, slowly taking my time as I move from human to human, tasting, biting, and sampling their blood, devouring them all one after another until they are all gone. All but one.

He cowers under the pool table, thinking that I cannot see him, that his blood doesn’t call to me. The cue he clutches tightly in his hands is his only defence. I stalk around to the bar, feeling more alive than I have been for far too long and feeling satisfied, sated, and with some semblance of happiness at last. I sit on a stool at the bar, watching the man hiding underneath, his aura a giveaway, his aura telling me everything I wish to know.