Blood Life Seeker (10 page)

No matter which way I looked at it, I couldn't think of an out. But, if I did this I would have Michel back. The
Iunctio
would have to remove the power boost and influence they were currently exerting. Michel would know what to do.

“Yes.” It was a whisper, hardly a sound.

“The challenge has been accepted, now to exchange marks.”

“What?” I finally found my voice.

He chuckled. “I said there were rules, I didn't say I would play fair.”

You bastard!

“No. My parents were married before I was born.” He couldn't stop laughing.

“So, so what type of mark?” I tried to interrupt his delightful chuckles.

“Nothing too predatory. Well, maybe just a little.” His fangs came out in a slow, silent glide, sliding down to glint brightly in the room. I was so relieved he didn't pull his lips back in a nasty grimace, like so many of the vamps do when about to feed, that I didn't even have time to register what was happening next.

His lips met my skin, moving smoothly, quickly, until they found the right spot and his fangs pierced through to the blood vessel below. I pushed against his chest with all my might, but as soon as the sharp sting of his bite was replaced with a sense of total bliss, unadulterated joy and a quick shot of heat and desire, I forgot to push and simply rested my hands against his chest.

His voice floated inside my head, so soft, like a caress, a wave gently lapping at the shore.
Mark me, my little Hunter. Mark me now.

I didn't know what to do. I'd never had a challenge like this before. It all seemed so permanent, so frighteningly permanent. I didn't like this. I didn't like this at all. I had no idea what to do, but despite the lust he was filling my body with, the fear of what I had done was overriding it, slapping it away. What had I done? What had I done? I felt the anger and desperation rise up inside me, consume me from within, it pushed against his shields, it felt around the edges, it pried against the wall of his defences and the only thing I could think of was Light. Bright, beautiful, Light.

It's what I am made of. It is what I am. It shines within me with such intensity it blinds. As soon as I caught that thought I felt it, like a tangible energy, something I could grasp. I reached out with my mind and wrapped a mental hand around it, gripped it tight within my fist. It felt warm and safe and filled with love, goodness and everything that made this world so beautiful, unique and precious. I gripped it tight and thrust it against Gregor's shield, I wrapped it around the wall he had built and pushed with all my strength. I felt them give, I felt the Light pour in, I felt him still, stop breathing, stop drinking me in. I felt that Light fill him up and bathe him in its glory. I felt him accept it.

His fangs retracted from me slowly. He licked the bite marks, stopping the flow of blood. He hovered over me for a moment, not saying anything, still not breathing.

“That, my little Hunter, was unexpected.” His voice was low, husky, sexy.

You're telling me?
I felt like I'd just made love for hours, I hadn't orgasmed, but my body thought that was just a mere technicality. I was basking in a glow that had nothing to do with my inner Light.

“You could become quite addictive. What have I got myself into?” Gregor murmured.

I thought that was my line, but I was too sated to make a comment right then.

“You can go. I will let you. The challenge has been made, the exchange of marks given. It is set.”

He raised off me and fell to the side, collapsing back on the bed. His hand was still touching me, subconsciously I think, as though he couldn't break that contact just yet. I noticed he was breathing again, rapidly, but he was trying to get it back under control.

I almost wanted to say
was it as good for you as it was for me?

“Yes.”

Shit! I was going to have to be more careful around this man.

“Why have you not left?” he asked quietly.

“Um,” I was having difficulty finding my voice. “I don't think I can move just yet, um, concentrate on Walking, I mean.”

He laughed and it warmed my soul. So beautiful and deep, and wrapped me up and held me tight.

“What have we begun, Lucinda? I asked for a challenge, I think I may have just met my match.”

I was beginning to come down from that impossible high, the world had begun to focus again, my breathing was back under control. I could feel my heartbeat, settling, still too fast, but I could focus on it again, force myself to calm with the help of its rhythm and return to my body.

Just before I left the warmth of his hand in mine and embraced that nothingness that begged, I whispered, “Don't underestimate me, Gregor. I belong to no one.”

The last thing I heard before the world faded to blissful black was, “And I always get what I want, Lucinda, always.”

Oh crap.

I woke up on my couch, it was still dark, no light filtered past the closed curtains in my lounge. I could still see Bruno's bulk outside the door, silhouetted against the moonlight. I rolled into a sitting position and reached up to trace the marks left by Gregor. They were slightly raised, I was betting if I looked in a mirror right now, they would be pink, precise dots, but still slightly pink.

I ran my hand around the other side of my neck and felt the familiar raised marks of Michel's. His were no longer pink, they had faded long ago, you couldn't even see them with the naked eye. Well, at least humans couldn't, every vampire I met always flicked a glance over them. It's like a signature, they recognise the mark and who it belongs to. It definitely makes me feel like a possession, but I guess that's the point. I may not have been able to see them in the mirror any more, but I could still feel them with my finger tips. Michel could find them without even trying, like honey to a bee. Damn. I did not like  being a pin cushion.

When a vampire feeds, he does leave marks, but if it's just a normal feed, they vanish and heal relatively quickly. Again something to do with their saliva, it not only coagulates the blood but heals the marks. Can't leave too many obvious fang scars on the Norms, it would out the vamps way too quickly. But, if they mark you, like Michel did the night of our joining, it stays, forever. I hadn't realised Michel was going to do that when we joined, he hadn't warned me, omitted that little piece of news. I don't think I have ever forgiven him.

There are different ways to be marked and the permanency can vary. As a Nosferatin, we obviously can do it too. I'd never tried, this was the first time for me and I'd had no idea how it was accomplished. Instinct had just taken over, but I have been marked by a Nosferatin before. Nero marked me with a false vampire scent once. I don't think he really had meant to, he'd got carried away, at least I have chosen to believe his explanation. Sucker, who me? But, his mark had been temporary, a brief marking that ended when Michel confronted me, as though it was designed to only stay until the intended recipient had witnessed it. Michel and Nero have been having little pissing contests ever since.

But, this mark by Gregor felt different. I couldn't be sure, but it felt extremely close to how Michel's had done. How is it possible to be marked by two vampires at the same time? The whole idea of a mark was to claim possession. I fought that notion every day, I belong to no one, but it still remains the root cause of marking. It seemed I had a mark from Michel and a mark from Gregor now, but what would it mean?

I guess I was about to find out, because I felt him approach. Michel's
Sanguis Vitam
flowed passed Bruno through the door and wrapped around me, gently touching, tentatively sweeping over my arms and body, as though it was checking to see if it was all right to come in. Michel didn't need an invite, but I did kind of acknowledge that at least he was trying.

I got up and switched the light on, then returned to my seat. Standing around looking nervous was not going to help my cause.

The door opened and I noticed Bruno had gone, no longer blocking the moonlight, Michel however, was. He stood there a moment and looked at me, his eyes on mine. I thanked my lucky stars that his were no longer magenta, just a deep blue and indigo, pools of brightness. His gaze swept over me and didn't miss a thing. He took a long shaky breath in, closing his eyes and only opening them again when he had released the air from his lungs. They were still blue, a trace of violet, but no amethyst. Amazing.

When Nero had marked me that last time, Michel had lost all control, almost choking me to death. If I hadn't have had a stake on me, I don't think he would have stopped. How was he controlling himself now?

He stepped across the threshold and the door swung closed softly behind him, all on its own. He walked - well maybe more like glided towards me - and stood a metre away, looking down. His face hid all emotion. I didn't know if he was actually feeling anything at all, or just hiding it. It was so blank, so bare, so nothing. I hated that mask he so often wore.

“What have you done?”

His voice was empty, not harsh, not soft, not sad, not angry. Just nothing. Simply words spilling from his mouth. I had a sudden shiver go through me, as though I was looking at a shell. As though whatever it was that had animated Michel in the past, was gone. He was still there, but he also wasn't.

“Gregor,” was all I could manage. I really didn't think words could have saved me right now.

“I can see that. Why?” And now a brief emotion flashed across his face. Betrayal. He felt betrayed. Oh God.

It vanished swiftly, to be replaced by that empty, horrible mask.

“I didn't realise.” An argument that would not help matters. It is irrelevant to a vampire if the intent was not there, ignorance is not a defence in vampire circles, the end result is the punishable offence. And here I was sitting in front of my kindred Nosferatu with someone else's mark. I was guessing this was not a good thing.

He hadn't moved. He was still breathing, albeit a little unevenly. I could see his heartbeat in the pulse on his neck, the one I wanted to reach up and brush my finger tips across so desperately right now, to help slow it's slightly elevated speed. The blank look on his face stilled my hand, even if my brain had already shouted,
don't
.

I might as well get this over with, there was no point delaying the inevitable. “I really believed I didn't have a choice, Michel. I couldn't fight him off, he would have handed me over to the
Iunctio
, or worse, for himself. He offered me a deal, an exchange, I took it. Now I'm back here and the
Iunctio
has called its power back, hasn't it?”

He didn't confirm it, he didn't nod, he didn't need to. He wouldn't have been here unless it had been removed.

“What challenge did you agree to?” His voice was so even, so controlled. There was no hint of warmth, no hint of its usual light tone, just a hollow echo of nothing.

“
He let me go unharmed, he called the
Iunctio
off and I agreed he could try to court me.”

Michel suddenly fell to his knees onto my carpeted floor. A look of anguish crossing his face, a small desperate cry escaping his lips. He pulled himself together quickly, returning to that mask, but there was a hint of haunting to his eyes now that hadn't been there before. He didn't, however, get up from the floor. I didn't think his legs would have held him.

“There is no
try
to it,
ma douce
. He will succeed.” Now, just wait a damn minute! I am not a foregone conclusion. He could try all he liked, but that didn't make it a
fait accompli,
did it? “And you do not want Gregor to succeed. Seduction to him is a game. A cruel, vicious game.”

I swallowed at that last comment, but chose to ignore it for now. One problem at a time. “What makes you so sure he will succeed?”

He laughed, it wasn't bitter, as I would have expected it to be, but heavily laden with resignation. “He has never failed in acquiring what he wants and now you have set a challenge in motion, it is impossible for any other outcome. He has marked you as well, as his own. The mark is permanent,
ma douce
. It will never leave you for as long as you live. The mark binds you to him and makes his task that much easier.”

“How can he mark me, when you already have?”

“The choice of number of
Sigillum,
permanent marks, is up to the marked. It is
you
who have invited him in. Had you refused to accept his
Sigillum
, he would not have been able to mark you.”

Oh dear. How had I let this happen? I didn't know I was accepting something, I just thought it was happening and I had no choice. Just like when Michel marked me.

“Did I have to accept your mark too?”

“Yes.

“I don't remember being asked?”

He smiled, the first hint of Michel on that mask since he arrived. “I could not have marked you unless you wanted me to. That is why I did not ask.”

“It would have been nice to know, Michel.”

“Perhaps. Would it really have changed things though,
ma douce
?”

“At the time, yes.”

“And now? Would you be without my
Sigillum
?”

I couldn't answer that straight away. His mark, or
Sigillum
, or whatever the fuck he called it, was a sign of his possession of me. I would never agree to that. But, and yes there is a but, it also felt like he was mine. By having that connection to him it didn't feel all one way, it felt like it was my mark on him too. But, that's not altogether true, is it? Still, I couldn't give him an honest answer right now, I just didn't know.

“Have I marked you?” I asked for want of something better to say.

“You would know if you had. But no, you have not.” He did look sad then. Slowly, little by little, Michel was returning and with it emotions decorating his face. “I gather Gregor wears your
Sigillum
?”

He had voiced that statement as a question, a slight inflection at the end of the sentence, but with an obvious layer of hurt unsaid in his tone.

“Yep. I think he does.” A thought occurred to me. “Did Gregor trick me into this exchange of marks? He said it was part of the challenge.”

Michel's smile was bitter this time. “He never did play fair.” The pain in those few words was heart breaking. As though this had torn his heart in two.

“He wears your mark.” Michel sighed, a sound so mournful it rocked my soul. “I have long wondered what your
Sigillum
would be. What form it would take. I have ached for it.” When I opened my mouth to tell him what had happened, what I thought had happened when I marked Gregor, he raised his hand to stop me and closed his eyes, as though in pain. His voice when he spoke was strained, low and slightly uneven. “Do not tell me,
ma douce
. I do not think I could bear to know right now. I will know before too much longer, Gregor will come calling, but not tonight. Please, not tonight.”

In all my 25 years I have never felt so rotten. It was as though a fist had entered my chest, grabbed hold of my heart and squeezed it with unrelenting force. I ached from inside out; sharp, stabbing, deep, penetrating pain. I let the tears fall freely, I couldn't have stopped them if I had tried, they ran down my face and dripped softly onto the carpet. I didn't know when I had slid off the couch to my knees, but I vaguely acknowledged that's where I was now. I didn't make a sound, it was as though the pain did not want to leave me, wanted to stay trapped in my heart for eternity, rolling around my body without release.

I numbly realised that Michel was at my side, brushing my hair out of my eyes, smoothing it down my head, stroking my neck. He pulled me to him and whispered something in French I didn't understand, just soft soothing words without meaning that tried to chase away the pain, but it was too late. It had grabbed a hold of me, of my heart and was not letting go. I'm not sure I wanted it to. I deserved this, I had caused this mess. Michel had suffered because of me. What was I becoming? I had always thought that I was the good guy, that the creatures of the night were the baddies. Why is it then, that I felt more evil right now than they had ever appeared to me before? That I felt suffocated in the Darkness and I could not feel my Light.

I heard the phone ringing in the background, like a buzzing you can't quite place. Michel let it ring for a while, but it was persistent, then reluctantly he let me go, murmuring something angrily under his breath, to answer it. I felt myself curl up into a ball, protecting my chest from attack. It wouldn't do any good, the attack was on the inside, but it was a natural reaction to the pain. I couldn't help it.

I heard Michel talking, but I couldn't pick up the words. He sounded frustrated and annoyed though, I could pick up the tone, it then turned to sarcastic. Michel was always good a sarcasm. I think he was arguing with whoever was on the line. I blocked it out and concentrated on the Dark that was smoothing against my skin. Enticing me down to the blackness below, encouraging me to sink further in, cover my body, my head, with black. It promised to take the pain away, to make it all better, if I just acknowledged the Dark.

Michel touched my shoulder, when I didn't respond he shook me. I ignored him, I didn't want to face him again. To see the hurt and pain and sense of betrayal there. Not that. Not ever again. I turned away and buried my face in my hands. He tried to pick me up. I noticed the cordless phone sitting on the floor beside him, the green light on to show it was active, a call in progress. The green glow made me think of Light and the Darkness sprang, slapping me, grabbing me and pulling me closer. I pushed against Michel's hold and collapsed on the floor.

I saw him pick the phone up and say something harshly into the mouthpiece, he then dropped it and tried shaking me again. I felt his
Sanguis Vitam
fill the room, felt it pushing against my shields, trying to find a way in, but my shields weren't mine any more, they were big and black and reached farther and higher than I could see or sense. They were impenetrable. I marvelled at their magnificence, at the sheer enormity of their scale. I had never been able to make shields like this. Never.