Authors: Katana Collins

Soul Survivor (26 page)

BOOK: Soul Survivor

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Ireland, 1740

“J
ulian.” I grasped at his sleeve, tugging him closer to me. “I cannot stay here a moment longer. Please. May we go home?”

His eyes were clamped shut, and on a deep breath, they opened to meet my eye contact. “You cannot. Your home is no longer with me.” He swallowed and shifted his gaze to the floor.

It was like a punch in the stomach. All wind was knocked from my lungs with that statement. “Why?”

He glanced quickly to John and back to the floor again. “I was told only that you mustn't return with me after tonight. I know nothing else.”

“Horse shit!” I shouted the expletive, immediately covering my mouth with a hand and releasing his sleeve. “Oh, dear,” I whispered. “I-I didn't mean to say that. How didâwhy did that . .
.”

“You should have known better than to react as you did with Lord Buckley,” Julian said, his teeth gnashing together even as he said it.

“Who says I cannot come home? The council? San Michel?”

“You made a grave mistake, Monica.” Julian's cheeks flushed red. “I-I don't think you'll be cast out of Heaven. But I cannot see you being an angel after they deliberate.”

I was lost in thought, staring at a speckle of blood staining the wall. “Then, go,” I whispered, not bothering to look at him. “Go home without me.” He moved to step away, when I grabbed his arm again. I could feel the sobs rising and pushed them down instead. “But know . . . this is partially your doing, as well. You pushed me into taking this mission. You failed to inform me ofâof all the rules of being an angel. But most of allâyou could have professed your love for me at any time over these last few centuries. But you didn't. And you waited until I thought I had found love elsewhere.” I gave his bicep one last squeeze and pushed him away. “Now. With that, you can go.”

I turned to go find John. I didn't know where I could stay tonight, but I certainly would not stay anywhere near the man. Ainsley's face flashed in my head. The brutal and careless way he had murdered the animal he'd claimed was his pet.

“Monica,” Julian's voice called out. I didn't bother stopping. I didn't bother looking back. “Monica!” he shouted again, more urgently this time.

When I turned the corner of the hallway into what was once my boudoir, I came face-to-face with John. From down the hall, I heard the crack of Jules leaving.

“Angel,” John sneered. A glass of something amber colored and pungent was in his hands, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Not for much longer,” I muttered, pushing past him. I tore the clothing from my bodyâone of the fine gowns he forced me to wear. The character he made me play. The life he'd convinced me I'd fit into. I found my wool dressâthe dress I had worn before John had swooped in and tangled into my world a web of things my life had no room for. I swallowed a lump in my throat.

Surely, John and Jules were partially to blame, but this was still my fault. I made the poor decisions that led to this point in my life.

“I'm leaving,” I said while turning to face him.

He laughed, his voice cracking with the bitter sound. “You are? And just where will you go?”

I shrugged, not caring. “The climate does not hurt me. I can procure any garment I need. I do not require food or drink to survive.” I took a step closer, pressing my body against his in a way that was anything but sexual. “And I am far, far stronger than you ever believed me to be.” I nudged past his shoulder. “As long as I am an angel, I have no need for you or any man like you.”

I turned and closed my eyes, waiting for the cracking sound to teleport me outside the manor's gates. Nothing happened. I opened my eyes and John stood there, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the almost empty glass of whiskey. His smirk lifted on one side, and he raised his glass to me before throwing his head back and finishing the rest in one last gulp. He threw it to the floor, the shattering glass bouncing and biting at my ankles. His stride as he advanced on me was smooth and angry. “I can change that. Make it so you need a man.”

I turned and headed down the hall to the top of the stairs. Just because I couldn't teleport didn't mean I couldn't walk out of there on my own two feet. From the boudoir came John's voice just barely above a whisper. “Feed,” is all he said and there was a crackle of magic in the air.

I took the stairs quicker, throwing the front door open and running for the gate. It was already significantly warmer than it had been in months. The frost beneath my feet was melting into puddles that splashed my calves and shins as I ran.

The pounding of footsteps behind me was just as fast as my sprint, if not faster. And before me, two vampires at the gate crouched, their pale skin reflecting the moonlight. John's final word echoed in my mind.
Feed.

“Oh, Heavenly Father . . .” I slowed my pace until I stopped. There were five vampires total surrounding me. Their eyes were red. Their stomachs growled. I could sense their thirst. I was not only the first meal they would have had in ages . . . but I was probably the first meal that didn't walk on four feet and eat garbage. Dejan was nowhere to be seen. Was he refusing? Did John specifically want to keep him from me?

I was strong . . . but I knew I was no match for five hungry vampires. I knelt down, cast my eyes to the sky, and did the same thing I had done when my human life had expired. “Our Father, who art in Heaven. Hallowed be thy name . . .”

The first vampire lunged, his fangs piercing the first open flesh he could find on my arm. The poison spread through my body and my arm felt as though it had been tossed onto a flame. Soon more vampires were on me, feasting on my essence. My blood was draining. Could this kill me? Could an angel die this way? I didn't know.... There was still so much for me to learn.

Ulrich, the gate's guard, knelt between my legs. Pushing my knees apart, he licked his lips, staring at the space where John himself had feasted many a time. I closed my eyes ignoring that little spark of heat that rushed to the region down there.

A snarl above me made my eyes snap open. Breathing was hard and I felt too weak to even turn my head toward the noise. “Away! Enough!” he growled and I recognized the accent immediately. Dejan.

The other vampires growled and snapped their teeth at him as well, but they listened, backing away from my drained body. All except the one kneeling between my legs. He licked his lips, a chunk of blond hair falling in his face.

“Ulrich, no,” he purred.

Ulrich smiled before baring his teeth and sinking them into the soft flesh between my legs. I cried outâit felt both terrible and painful, yet satisfying. My hands fisted into the wet grass. My body convulsed with the movement and the world around me seemed to be fading. Dejan tackled the vampire and they wrestled in movements so fast, I couldn't keep up. Not with the loss of blood. My breathing was heavy and the scuffle quieted. Two arms nudged under my back and legs.

When I opened my eyes, I looked up at Dejan, the world around us a blur with how fast he was running. I turned my head and saw trees whipping by us, wind slapping my face. His running slowed, and he lowered me onto some moss.

“Wh-what will come of m-me now.” My teeth were chattering on top of my breath being staggered.

Dejan growled low in his throat, the hunger rippling through his eyes. He eyed my bloody, open wounds and swallowed. “You will die if we do not turn you.”

“Angels can die?” I asked, never once believing this to be true.

After a pause, he answered. “I didn't believe so until this moment.”

“Turn me?” I repeated and attempted to turn my body over for him.

“No.” He placed a hand on my shoulder, pushing me back to the moss. “Stay. Rest. Do not move.” He swallowed again, raising his hand, now covered in my blood, to his nose. He inhaled and closed his eyes, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Do you realize how long it has been since I have had the blood of anything other than sheep and rats? Let alone the delicacy of angel blood.” He licked the length of one finger and moaned, eyes snapping back to me. “We must turn you now. Before I drain you completely.”

Turn me. Turn me
. The thought rolled over in my brain still not making sense.

“What happens when an angel is bit by a vampire?”

He inhaled the night breeze, raven hair blowing back from his face. “You will be one of us. A vampire.”

“Just leave me to die, Dejan. Feast on me. Use me. Do as you wish.”

“Don't talk like that!” he growled. “You won't be an angelâbut you will not die here like this. You'll be . . .” His tone changed as suddenly as he had appeared, and he sucked the blood off another finger. “You'll be mine, though. All mine.”

He sunk his teeth into his own wrist. Blood gushed down his arm, and he shoved it against my lips. I turned my head, the warm, thick liquid, splattering against my face, gagging me, I coughed and sputtered it out. “Drink!” he demanded, tilting my head back and pinching my nose so that I had little choice in the matter.

It slid down my throat and I swallowed, unable to fight any longer. I coughed as he released his hold on my head. He, too, knelt in the same position as Ulrich. He was gentler. Tender even, as he placed a hand under each of my knees. He looked into my eyes once more. “This is going to hurt,” he whispered.

There was no pain worse than what I was feeling in that moment. Or so I'd thought.

When I didn't answer, he closed his eyes, inhaling through his nose. I wasn't sure if he was smelling my blood, or my sex. From his position, it could have been either. Or both. “From my blood, breeds your blood. From my mouth, to your mouth. You will feed on man. You will hunt at night. My blood, to your blood. My mouth to your mouth.”

His teeth sank into the inner part of my right thigh and I screamed out. If the other bites felt like fire, this felt as though lava now flowed in my veins. He drank from my lower half until I felt his presence above my face. His lips on mine were chilled and the blood he pushed into my mouth tingled against my tongue. It wasn't nearly so vile as the first sip of his own he had given me. He tongue brushed against mine and I could feel his erection pushing against my moist sex. I resisted, pushing him away, but as the blood entered my bodyâsliding down my throat, warming my stomachâsomething inside me changed. Heat flared everywhere. An awareness of my curves, my breasts, my nipplesâmy swollen sex was hungry and aching. I threw an arm around his neck and pulled him into me for a deeper kiss. He grunted and thrust his hips against mine once again, his erection hard.

“Fuck me,” I grunted. “Fuck me now.”

His eyes flashed with humor and he kissed me again. “Yes, m'lady.”

D
amien and I sat outside of the cafe, sipping our iced lattes. Baxter sat at Damien's side, at the end of a leash, and Damien scratched one of his ears, making eye contact with the dog, but refusing to look at me.

“I still don't quite get why you couldn't just tell me about who you wereâare. . . .”

Damien sighed, taking another sip. “I couldn't. There was too much risk. The threat of anyone knowing my lineage could have meant imprisonment for me with absolutely no trial. I couldn't risk it.”

“But that's how you knew I was an angel? And how you just knew so much about me in general before we even met?”

He shrugged, but didn't answer. It had been three months since we had all been in Salt Lake City. Damien and Adrienne had stayed a few days to clear up their part of the investigation and clean the Morganson's house. It was apparently pretty easy to make it look like Mr. Morganson had been the guilty party.

For three months Drew had been gone. The time had done nothing to ease the aching hole in my chest. I'd searched for John, but knowing he could glamour himself to look like anyoneâand on top of that, his ability to mask his powersâit felt rather hopeless. Yet, there were times I could feel his presence. As though he didn't dare to stray too far from me. I knew he was watching me.

Outside of Buckley, we'd all tried everything to requisition to get Drew back. And apparently, short of going rogue and venturing into the depths of Hell to save him ourselvesâsomething I just might do if there are no other alternativesâJulian claimed the council could do nothing to save him. He had to make it out on his own.

“I'm sorry,” Damien said finally, interrupting my thoughts.

“I know you are.” I dipped my finger into the foam that sat on top of my latte and swirled it around the tip. I dipped the creamy froth into my mouth and swallowed. “I should really get back in there. With Drew gone . . .”

“And you as the new acting owner. Yeah, yeah, I know.”

I nodded. It was an excuse I had given him many times over the last few months when our conversations would wane.

“Hey, succubus.” He cupped my jaw with his palm, turning my face to his. “I'm not giving up on us yet, you know?”

“I know.” Nor did I want him to give up just yet.

I entered the cafe and went back to work, slipping an apron around my waist and a hat on my head.

With every jingle of the bellsâthe signal that someone was enteringâmy attention would jolt to the door. For a moment each time, there was hope that it could be Drew coming home. And yet, it never was.

A beautiful woman entered. She was petite with porcelain skin and sharp, blue eyes. I watched as she walked over to our coffee bar areaâa new service implemented by me so that during the busy times, customers could pour and fix their own drip coffeesâand filled a small to-go cup with coffee and placed a lid on it, black. She walked over to me and tucked a strand of red, curly hair behind her ear.

She placed two dollars on the counter and smiled at me. I took the money and put it in the register. “Do I know you?” I asked.

Her head tilted to the side ever so subtly and she turned, walking quickly out of the cafe.

“Genevieve, watch the register!”

“Hey!” I called as she walked away. The sun in front of her seemed to shine down directly on her body, casting a halo around her. The Banshee. She'd been released from her imprisonment . . . with a kind act. “You saved him, didn't you?”

She stopped, freezing mid-step. Only instead of turning, she took a sip of her coffee, glancing toward the parking lot, then continued walking.

Something was tucked on the windshield of my Toyota. I walked over, lifting it out from under my wiper. It was a blank postcard from Alaska. I turned it over in my hands. No stamp. No writing. Just a G
REETINGS FROM
A
LASKA
! phrase on the front with an image of the state's snowy landscape.

I pulled my cell from my back pocket and called Kayce. “Hey.” I smiled down at the postcard, running my thumb over the edge. “We can cancel the rescue mission. Drew's okay. He's no longer trapped.”

“What? Then where is he?”

I tucked the postcard into my apron pocket. “I don't know, but he'll be back eventually. I'm sure of it.”

BOOK: Soul Survivor

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