Blood Life (18 page)

Alethea’s eyes opened wide to catch a glimpse of Roman leaning over her. Unable to differentiate the images of Lokee from crossing her sight, she started lashing out at Roman, wildly, trying to fend off his approach.

Scrambling away and grabbing hold of anything in reach, she started blindly throwing things as she tried to pull herself out of the vulnerable position she was in. Sheer terror blessed her with a new pulse of strength, enough to lift herself up, but again her legs gave out and she was flat on the floor.

Roman looked down at her body and was suddenly hit with the intoxicating aroma of fresh blood. He stepped over her, searching for the outlet of a wound.

Salivating, his fangs pushed through his gums, razor sharp and ready to assist him in breaking through tough, human skin. Biting back the urge to feed on her, he noticed her back.

Memories surfaced as he studied the Vampire Mark. It had raised on her back as if pushed out from within. It bled as if fresh!

He knelt down next to her, willing his fangs back to their resting places. Still not realizing she was back in reality, Alethea fought him again, cursing and crying to be let free.

The flashes returned. This time they were of Roman and his vow to wait for Alexandria’s reincarnation. She saw him give in to the seductions of a seemingly powerful dark-haired woman with intense sapphire eyes.

That’s when Alethea started to soften. She realized it was not Roman to fear, but the one who brought about Alexandria’s death, or,
her death
as Alexandria. Finally, she understood—she was Alexandria: the woman, the victim, the doomed princess of Aqua, in another life, long ago.

Roman had been her saving grace, not the demon determined to destroy her spirit. Perhaps Roman was her guardian angel. She felt his warmth and love coming through the images and began to relax.

But what had Roman become? How did he stand before her now?

The images let up; they became softer and quieter. The hatred and fear drowned and Roman helped to surface a new feeling, one of trust and love.

Curiosity.

In all logic, from what she had just experienced, her mind was going to help her piece things together. But she hadn’t really much to work with—she was Alexandria, he was Roman, and this was impossible.  

Twenty Five

Alethea sat up in the large, soft bed. Roman stood at the window looking out over the streets which were full of people staggering home from the clubs.

Realizing they were at his house, Alethea cleared her throat delicately to break some of the hollow silence. The best she could do was sit up in bed. She felt exhausted and surreal after having seen her past life in such depth and vivid detail.

Roman slowly pivoted around to face her with contemplative eyes and pale, poreless skin. He shot Alethea a loving glance before walking over to sit on the edge of the bed facing her.

The room was dim; it looked so much larger when the lights weren’t beaming all around, blinding her. Roman lit a few candles and Alethea appreciated it. She always lit candles when she needed to feel calm and at peace.

The soft, dancing glow embraced and soothed her. Right then, more than ever, she needed help finding peace. The candles would do the trick, they always did.

She stared at Roman, careful to keep her look supple, and waited patiently for him to begin.

Her feelings were unstable, going back and forth the longer she sat in silence. He waited patiently, looking as if he needed a moment to collect his own thoughts.

Alethea moved herself gently to the edge of the bed and stood up. The only way she’d feel stronger is if she moved around, so she decided to go to the kitchen and make herself some tea or perhaps coffee.

Once she reached the kitchen, she pinched herself to make sure it wasn’t all a twisted dream. Finding chamomile tea inside a cabinet, she sighed with pleasure, reaching over to the kettle to fill it with fresh water.

“Let me make it for you.”

She turned to face Roman who stood in the doorway with a smile. Returning his smile, shyly, she nodded and walked over to lean on the counter opposite him. She studied him as he moved around the room swiftly, expertly. When he handed her the steeping cup of tea, she eyeballed the brandy sitting on the counter next to her.

“You can spike your tea if you want to,” Roman suggested. “It might take the edge off.”

Ignoring his comment, she opened the bottle and swigged from it. Roman watched her, very interested in her behavior, not making a move to stop her. 

Twenty Six

Alethea jumped up on the tall bed, refreshed and fully awake. She squeezed the last bit of herb out of her teabag with a spoon against the side of the cup and sat back comfortably in bed. Now she felt determined to get the conversation going, being a little tipsy from the brandy she so generously helped herself to. Her thoughts were in order . . . sort of.

“All this nonsense to ask me something? Please, Roman, if you wanted to take me out, this is definitely not the way to go about it. And let me tell you something else,” she was waving her right forefinger in the air at him, refusing to meet his eyes, “I probably wouldn’t go out with you after the way you behaved unless—”

Roman laughed at her, absolutely in hysterics!

“What?” She was on the verge of throwing her hot cup of tea at him when he caught her arms and settled her down.

He looked into her wary eyes, forcing her to look into his, and stopped laughing.

“Alethea, you know that isn’t what this is about. I don’t want to ask you out. I don’t want to scare or harm you either.”

“I don’t follow,” she said slowly, captured again in his delicate stare.

“You are the woman I loved long ago, reborn into this world.” He hesitated, watching her reaction, listening to her mind. “I have been waiting for you a very, very long time.” He hesitated again, deep in thought. “Alethea, you would never have experienced the induced memories if you were not Alexandria. Neither would The Mark have surfaced on your back. That is how I am certain you are who I think you are. Does that help clear up the confusion a little?” He waited for her to respond, letting his words seep into her, hopefully easing her resistance.

She unlocked eyes again and turned away. “Please, this has got to be the most ridiculous thing that has ever happened to me. What is your problem, Roman? You don’t know me; I have never laid eyes on you in my life, okay?”

She knew, even as she spoke, she knew the truth. She wasn’t convincing anyone otherwise, namely herself. “As for the stupid marks on my back, ever heard of birthmarks?”

His eyes widened. “Yes, as a matter of fact I have.”

She looked at him, trying to decide why he looked so smug about it.

“Birthmarks,” he explained, moving in closer to her face, “are actually marks laid upon you, battle scars, so to speak, though not always from a painful event, from previous lifetimes. They serve as reminders to the soul of where you’ve been, of what you have accomplished, and thus, where you must go.”

She shook her head ignorantly, not quite sure of why she was fighting him. She laughed, shakily, convincing herself his words were fiction, but having nothing to base anything she was thinking on—except fear.    

What scared her the most was that she did believe it—every word. She was simply too terrified to admit it. It was horrifying to think any of it was real, to believe honestly in living another lifetime, and especially being revisited by a lost lover who had anxiously awaited her return. It was a huge burden—they were big shoes to fill!

Roman pressed on. “It is natural for you to be reluctant and afraid like this, to deny it and wish you could understand fully.”

She moved her eyes to his and nodded weakly.

“You will come to understand, I promise, but what will come later, I cannot yet tell.”

Alethea got up from bed again, unsure of where she intended to go, or what she intended to do, but brandy always made her irrational—another thing she had trouble admitting.

Moving in the direction of the kitchen, she was halted by strong arms wrapping around her body and soft lips caressing her neck. She arched her back in utter submission, letting the feel of his silken lips still the remaining resentment in her heart.

She turned around in his embrace to face him. She moved in for a kiss, but surprising herself, she pushed him away and covered her mouth.

“Look, I-I’m sorry! I don’t know why I did that. Please,” she fumbled with the closest door, but it refused to open.

“Don’t apologize,” he reassured her. “Sit down on the bed; I’ll get the brandy for you. Or, why don’t you drink your tea?”

“No. I’ll get the brandy, really.” She couldn’t open the door, so she started slapping at it in defeat. The room spun mercilessly, sending her down to her knees.

“Well,” he said, “the brandy is all the way in the kitchen, and it doesn’t look like you’re going anywhere.”

She grumbled from the ground, resting her back against the wall.

“Please, my darling, don’t fight me. Don’t fight this,” he cooed.

She felt herself flush as blood rushed wildly through her veins. Little black dots appeared in her vision—she was going to faint. She crawled on the floor over to the couch and steadied herself against it.

Roman watched her with unconditional love. He admired her courage and strength. She couldn’t understand why; she must have looked like a drunk in her stupor.

She scooted over slightly to get clear enough from him so that she could bolt to the bathroom if she needed to get away from him and lock the door. She knew the front door wasn’t an option with his persistence that she stay with him until he has explained everything clearly to her. But, the bathroom, he would have to let her go there.

He sat quietly, letting her collect herself before he spoke. He listened to her confusion; he heard all the chaos in her mind, but he waited until she was ready to listen. The room dimmed around them as he took her hand and kissed it, pressing it to his cheek.

Alethea allowed this, coyly, but alert while judging his actions. She took a long swallow of her tea, which Roman had brought over to her, closing her eyes to enjoy the warmth it filled her body with. She opened them up again when he said her name and fought to refocus for a moment.

Roman was smiling; she could only blink back at him. He reached over, gathering her up into his arms and carried her back to his bed. Closing his magnificent eyes, he kissed her forehead, nuzzling his chin in her hair.

He took in a deep breath before speaking. “Alethea, as impossible as this all seems to you, you must take into consideration every word that I tell you. It is all very true and you will come to understand it more fully as I go along.” He paused and watched her expression.

He went over the entire story with her, forbidding questions until he was finished. He explained the images and how they fit into the story, and in the end, he actually left her without many requests for clarification. All of it started to agree with her before he had even begun—it was just a matter of acceptance.

Alethea pushed herself upright. The bed felt so soft and inviting.

Straining for something to say, anything in response to the tale that just swept over her, she cleared her throat again. “Roman, I . . .”

“How is it possible? Is that your question, Alethea? How could I have lived so long ago and still be alive and well today?”

She silently nodded.

“Well, my dear, vampyrism is an unexplainable thing and can only be understood when experienced firsthand. I can go into that aspect more if you would like me to.”

As he held her hands in his, she replied, slowly, “Please do.”

She looked at him sadly. She did understand what he was, but vampyrism was only a thing she had read about and indeed been curious and fascinated with; a fictitious character that she always admired, not for the killing, but for the whole idea of immense power and immortality. Logic fought to override her belief in him and his kind.

Feeling her hand wrapped in his, she felt love, complete and true. Tingles danced up her arm.