Broken Heart 01 I'm the Vampire, That's Why (11 page)

Then he dipped towardSharon .

"Wait! Aren't you supposed to put her under a spell or something?"

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"With donors, we don't have to use trickery. Our fangs inject what amounts to anesthesia into the skin, numbing the area pierced."

He bent toSharon 's throat.

"Wait! Aren't you gonna make her all bloody and yucky?"

Patrick shot me a look of disbelief.

"Hel-
lo
. I'm a mother. Cleaning up blood is the worst."

"Our saliva contains an enzyme that helps the wound heal almost instantly. I promise you thatSharon will not be all bloody and yucky."

He gazed at me and waited. I gazed back at him and smiled. After a few seconds, he once again leaned down and, with open mouth, grazedSharon 's flesh.

"Wait!"

He letSharon flop out of his embrace and roared, "
WHAT
?"

"I don't like you biting other people."

His annoyed expression melted into confusion. Then he grinned. "It makes you jealous?"

"No."
Yes
. I wiggled a get-over-here finger at him. "I'll stick my fangs into her neck, okay?"

"I thought you wanted me to show you."

"I can figure it out."

"I don't mind. I've nibbled onSharon before."

"Patrick, get your lips away from her."

Sharon's head snapped up. "That's enough! I don't mind being a donor, but I'm not a booby prize. Now, either someone feed on me or get your asses out of here.
Survivor
comes on in ten minutes and I ain't missing the tribe merge because you two can't decide who's gonna eat."

"I don't think
food
should
talk
," I snarked.

"If you don't want a truffle stuffed into your eye socket,"Sharon retorted, "you'll mind that sassy tone."

My ire faded.
The Royal Bitch rides again
. Sheesh. Who said vampires didn't get PMS?

"Sorry,Sharon ," I said meekly.

"It's all right. Now sit down and drink a pint."

Patrick switched places with me. I settled close toSharon and watched as she once again bared her neck. Was I really going to slobber on her delectable throat?

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Patrick kneeled at my feet. "Go on, love."

I wrapped one arm aroundSharon 's shoulder and bent over her. It was damned unnerving to lean forward with giddy anticipation… to instinctively know where to put my fangs… to sink my teeth into the pale skin of this stranger.

But I did it.

Her blood flowed into my mouth. I swallowed convulsively, but truthfully, I didn't want to taste it. It was warm and thick, the consistency of tepid soup. After a moment or two, I allowed myself to think about the taste. And y'know, it was good. Different from Patrick's, but good. Delicious and sweet. I sucked and gulped and delighted. Chocolate-flavored blood. Not just chocolate, but champagne truffles.
Oh God

. Willy Wonka's most clever creations had nothing on this babe. I moaned and held her tighter and sucked on her neck some more.

"That's enough," said Patrick.

No. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. I drank more. I felt powerful and happy and sated.

"Jessica!"

I was yanked backward by my pony tail. My fangs popped free. "Hey! I'm not done!"

"You only take what you need.
Chocolate addict,"
he accused.

Since he still held my hair in an iron grip, I could only look longingly atSharon 's beautiful neck. The two bloody points closed in seconds, leaving twin trails of crimson on her throat. I wanted to lick 'em away, but she swiped a hand over the closed wound.

She looked at me in disgust. "First timers," she slurred. Then her eyes rolled back into her head. She slumped sideways onto the couch, tipping over the bowl of truffles. Little chocolate balls rolled onto the pink fuzzy carpet. But I no longer cared about the treats. I hadSharon ! Yummy, yummySharon . I reached for her arm, but Patrick pulled me to my feet.

"You've had enough." He took me out of the Airstream. He wrapped his arms around my waist and we flew upward.

"But you didn't taste her. She's… she's… scrumptious."

"As are you."

We landed on the gymnasium's roof. I traipsed in the direction ofSharon 's abode, but Patrick grabbed my wrist and spun me around. "You've got blood on your face," he said.

He dragged me into his arms and licked my mouth. Yeah.
Licked. My. Mouth
. He nibbled on the corners and suckled here and there.
Hoo-wee
. And I thought sucking onSharon 's neck had been fun.

"Fun," Patrick said as he wrenched his lips from mine. "
Fun
?"

"Quit bitching about my adjectives. And stay out of my head." I grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him close. He gathered me into his embrace with what I thought was a tad too much reluctance.

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"Jessica, you are the most exasperating woman I've ever had the misfortune to meet."

"Bite me."

"See what I mean?"

"I really mean it. Bite me." I felt an overwhelming need to be bitten. I wanted to feel his teeth pierce my flesh and drink from me. It was an inclination I couldn't explain. It was just there—pulsing and greedy and urgent.

He shuddered. Then his arms tightened around me and his head fell to my shoulder. "No, love."

Lifting his head slowly, as if it were an anvil instead of his thick-headed skull, he released me and backed up a couple of steps. "We have a lot to discuss."

"Yeah. You keep saying that." I plopped onto the tar-and-gravel roof and wrapped my arms around my knees. My butt protested the uncomfortable spot, but I was staying put. "Give me the four-one-one."

He stared blankly down at me.

"Information," I clarified. "Tell me what the hell is going on."

"Ah." He sat down cross-legged, facing me. Our knees were inches apart. "Most of those who are Turned get what Stan calls the Basic Package. Strength, speed, psychic abilities, hunting, and feeding instincts. The full body makeover." He grinned at me. "Not that you needed any improvement,
a thaisce

."

"Ooooh. You get points for that one."

His grin widened. His gaze meandered around my chest for a while until I cleared my throat. He lifted his eyes to mine, his playful smile gone. Heat smoldered in that gorgeous silver gaze. My skin prickled in sudden awareness as lust skittered into my belly. "Now… every vampire can trace his or her lineage to one of seven original families. When a human is Turned, they gain the blood of the Sect—depending on which Family the vampire belongs to.

"A binding can be performed between vampires of any Family. Believe it or not, Jessica, there is still a class system within the vampire community. The older your blood, the older your connection to a Family, the more power and status and wealth you have. Status matters within the Families. A Turn-blood who is created by an ancient has more status than a Turn-blood created by a new Master."

So this was Patrick's nice way of saying new Turn-bloods like me were considered mere peasants.

Generational wealth vs. nouveau riche. No wonder Nasty Nara looked at me like I was gum stuck to her Jimmy Choos. I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. Like I care about that crap."

"You should also know that not every human makes the transition." He looked at me, his gaze unrelenting and sharp, so that I would understand the importance of what he was telling me.

"What happens to those who don't Turn?"

"Most die. Some… don't. The closest approximation to what they become is a zombie. They are eating
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machines. They have no intelligence, no conscience, no emotions."

"You're kidding." I knew he wasn't, but I just didn't know how much more I wanted to learn about this new world I lived in. "But most humans make the Turn, right?"

He shook his head. "No. Maybe one in ten makes it."

"There were eleven," I said faintly. "You thought only one or two of us would Turn."

Despite the odds, the Consortium had tried to save us all. They could've buried us, maybe taken care of our families in some way, good or bad, and gone on with their plans to convert Broken Heart to Weirdsville. I figured Patrick had something to do with that decision. I was grateful I was still walking around and I reckon I had him to thank. "You think we all Turned because of who bit us."

Patrick nodded. "The lycanthrope blood has obviously changed Lor in some indefinable way. I'm worried about him. I don't know why he's hiding from us." He looked at me. "He didn't kill Emily."

I said nothing, but I figured Lorcan hadn't turned himself in because he wasn't in any condition to do so.

If he was a beast still in killing mode… well, no one was safe in Broken Heart.

"He's not the only danger," Patrick admitted. "We have to worry about the Wraiths, too. Chances are good that they know we're here. They may be plotting against us… and I have to tell you, a second strike could cripple us seriously enough that our plans for Broken Heart will be abandoned." He rose to his feet and helped me to mine. "I need to teach you to fight."

"Fight?" I blinked at him, confused. "You want to fight?"

Patrick stretched out his arms, his hands half-fisted. I watched as two small swords materialized.

"Are they made of gold?" I asked in awe.

"Yes. They're made of the purest gold and were crafted by my grandmother with
sidhe
magic," said Patrick. "They're called Ruadan swords. They are very powerful, very dangerous. And they are yours."

"Patrick… no." It was a weak protest. I wanted the swords. They were beautiful, and I felt drawn to them. Still… "I don't know what to do with those things. The most dangerous blade I've ever wielded was a butter knife. I'm guessing these aren't used for cutting ham sandwiches or weeding my garden."

He laughed. "Well… you could do weeks of training with these, practice lopping off fake heads for hours and hours, or…"

"Or what?"

"Ever seen
The Matrix
?"

"Dun. I'm a lifetime member of the Keanu Reeves fan club."

Patrick rolled his eyes. "I was thinking about how information got downloaded into Neo's brain."

"You mean you can just… zap! And I'll know how to use these?"

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He nodded. "You have strength, speed, and flight. Once you know how to use the swords, you'll kick serious ass."

"What are you waiting for? Get on with it."

Patrick handed me the swords. Then he touched my temples with his forefingers and stared deeply into my eyes. When he said "download" he wasn't kidding. Everything I needed to know was shot into my mind like a movie playing in extreme fast-forward. When he was finished, he looked at me. "Just promise you'll practice every day."

"Yes, Mom," I said. I felt the energy that pulsed between my palms and the metal. Even with the knowledge of how to use them, did I have the gumption?

"Go on. Give 'em a whirl."

I did. I whirled them like I was Buffy the vampire slayer. I slashed and lunged, amazed that I knew the moves, much less that I could use them. "This is killer kewl," I said, borrowing a phrase fromBryan .

"Look at me go!"

He laughed. "Yeah. But you still have to practice. Every day."

"Why can't you just download again?"

"I can. But knowledge is more valuable with experience."

I spent a few moments practicing—kicks, leaps, twirls. I couldn't believe how easy it was for me to execute moves I'd only seen in action-adventure flicks. I felt like a Rambo ballerina. A Ramballerina. I grinned.

"Jessica."

I stopped messing around and looked at Patrick. His expression was serious and I knew we had more to talk about. Well, shit. "I need a cool belt or something for the swords to fit into."

"I'll see to it."

"Thanks. Okay, Patrick. You're getting ready to tell me something else I don't want to hear," I predicted.

"Just spit it out already."

"Your ring… the one passed down from Mary McCree… it was my wedding band. My grandmother made two… one for me and one for my wife. Two
fede
rings gifted to us on our wedding day."

"I'm still amazed your granny knows how to do metal work. That's not a skill most grandmothers have."

My voice shook and I couldn't stop its betraying tremble. Why did it bother me to know that Patrick had been married? The man had lived for four thousand years; he was bound to have some prior relationships.

"My grandmother, Brigid, is very… unorthodox." He grinned then the smile slipped away. "Remember when I told you that it was foretold that the one who wore my ring was my soul mate?"

"Yeah?" If my heart could go thuddy-thud, it would've been trying to leap out of my chest right about
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now.

"I was once a mortal. A simple farmer inIreland . Well, I was part
sidhe
, so I had some magical skills.

But Lor was really the one who had talent as a sorcerer." He shook his head as if doing so would dissipate the memories. "My wife, Dairine, was killed and I was Turned. After a few decades had passed, my father predicted that only my soul mate would be able to wear the rings. Up until then, I had worn them on a chain around my neck. I couldn't bear the thought of anyone else wearing Dairine's
fede

… so I asked Brigid to melt it and re-craft it as a coin. The other, mine… I threw it into the ocean."

"How did Mary McCree end up with it, then?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I only know… when I drained you for the Turning, that you were meant for me."

"You're a piece of work, you know that? I can't respond to that assumption. Bryan and Jenny don't even know that I'm… I'm… life challenged!" Fury whirled through me, a tornado of fear and anxiety. "Oh gawd. What about the honeysuckle thing?"