Crimson Moon (30 page)

The last two months were difficult, ticking by like delayed second hands on a vintage clock. My twenty-first birthday had come and gone, and if it hadn't been for my parents, I wouldn't have noticed. I didn't care about much anymore, even when I tried. So I diverted my attention elsewhere, learning about my family and my heritage, blocking out the pain in the only way I could.

I wasn't some plain Jane as I'd once believed. I, like others with my blood, had the power to manipulate borrowed metaphysical energy. I could lift things with it, catch things with it, and stop things with it. If I made the choice my parents persistently hoped for, I would also be able to manifest my own energy to use at will, along with other abilities still unknown at the present.

"Twenty-three minutes that time, not bad.” Trent grinned at me from a lounge chair, his bright blond hair shining in the sun. I was certain his brilliant blue eyes matched behind the dark sunglasses covering his lovely face.

Trent had become my mentor, sharing his energy with me, teaching me to control it. He'd sent someone to take care of business abroad for several weeks while we worked together. We'd started small, going from golf balls, to softballs, to ten pound bowling balls. I learned it wasn't only the size of the object that mattered. It was also determined by mental control and energy amassed.

"You didn't give me enough juice.” I laughed quietly, dropping my arms to my sides and lowering my face.

"I've told you before. I'm ready when you are."

The innuendo was there again, more and more prevalent the last couple of weeks. I sighed and closed my eyes.

Trent had been trying to get through the kinks in my armor for weeks. He was always around, making me laugh when I wanted to cry. Teasing me constantly and tormenting me relentlessly. It was a welcome distraction at times and a painful reminder at others.

Caleb never did call. I'd spoken a few times with Sarah in those precarious first weeks, unable to stop myself from picking up the phone in hope Caleb might be there with her. She wouldn't give details about him or what he was doing, but she swore she had him under her watchful eye.

From what I gathered, he was back at Haven's, working the Pit. She didn't sound happy about it, but if I knew Sarah, she'd stand behind whatever got him through this tumultuous time.

When my ring arrived last week, I knew it was over—for him at least. I thought I was past it all until Keith handed me the little package with the tiny black box inside.

"
Don't, Emma
,” Trent voice whispered in my mind.

I didn't think of Caleb for this very reason. I'd told Trent to stop talking to me like this. It was too intimate, too personal. But he was always listening in the back of my head, and delving inside my mind was second nature to him by now.

"Trent,” I huffed the air out of my lungs in annoyance, watching him remove the dark sunglasses and place them onto the lush grass. “I've told you—"

He leapt from the chair, tackling me to the ground. His strong hands wrapped around to cradle my body, pushing my back into the soft grassy earth. He restrained my arms above my head with one hand, tickling me mercilessly with the other. I squirmed, lifting my hips and bucking underneath him.

"STOP,” I roared in torment. My laughter breathy and broken, shards of air halted with each movement of his fingers along my ribcage.

"Do you yield?” he asked, starting again when I didn't answer immediately.

I thrashed around, unable to stop myself. Since he'd discovered how easy this was, he wouldn't leave me alone. Damn my mind and the secrets it divulged—such as my ticklish impediment.

"That's cheating!” I complained loudly, laughing uncontrollably as his fingers plucked over my ribs and stomach.

"Do you?” he asked again.

I tried to pry myself free to no avail. His grip was too strong. I withstood the tickling until it hurt to laugh.

"Okay! Okay! You win!” I cried out, my laughter ebbing as he leaned in to claim his reward.

When he started this “game” I fought him relentlessly, only caving in when he taunted me mercilessly. As with every kiss before, he gently brushed his lips across my own, lifting away and staring into my eyes. He didn't take advantage, push or expect anything more. His eyes were amazing inside his mesmeric face. He truly was beautiful beyond words.

"Let me take you to dinner, Emma. Why won't you let me do this properly?” he asked softly, using his free hand to caress the line of my jaw.

I closed my eyes, exhaling. “You're in my mind enough to know the answer to that question."

"You have the right to be happy. Don't let him take that from you. I know how you feel about me."

He nuzzled my neck with his nose and I reopened my eyes to stare at him. Only a fool wouldn't reach out with eager hands for what he was offering. Trent was powerful, smart and sexy. He had a wicked sense of humor, and he was so incredibly easy with me.

It would be so simple to give in.

All I had to do was take that tiny first step...

"I promise to always be easy with you,” he whispered sensually against my ear, rubbing the skin at my neck with his nose.

"We should go inside.” I changed the subject, pushing against his shoulders. “Mom's been antsy with Dad away on business."

He lifted his body in a singular movement, holding out a hand to bring me to my feet. He dropped the discussion, waiting for another opportunity to bring it to my attention. It had been a carefully choreographed dance on his part. Swooping in when he knew I wouldn't deter him. Giving me space when he knew I would. It wasn't difficult; time wasn't a factor for him.

"I still don't understand why she has to stay here when he goes away on business.” I shook my head, walking through the spongy grass in the direction of the manor.

"She's a common, and commons are only allowed to attend the house meetings as servants or blood slaves. Besides, she wouldn't want to partake in the entire fiasco, trust me."

My Mom learned the hard way after her change that while being married to my Father helped, it didn't change anything. The vampire houses were very particular about their rules and arrangements.

Dad caused a monumental rift when he came for her. He had been in an arranged marriage since he was a little boy to another child raised among vampires in Spain. It wasn't common to see children raised among their kind, but it did happen. When he defied their orders, he paid stiff penalties. He was forced to use his unique abilities as they requested, whenever they requested, for the next eighty years; one hundred years total for his betrayal.

As he was raised among the supernatural, his natural talent was accessible early in his childhood. His ability to manipulate metaphysical energy was amazing. Many believed his talent remained unparalleled among any of the royals. At a mere ten years old he levitated a car with his mind, and today he could erect a barrier around himself that couldn't be penetrated physically.

But it was his vampiric abilities that truly made him an asset. Inflicting severe pain without so much as damaging one hair on someone's head came in handy. He could torture informants for hours on end, getting the goods necessary and keeping the offender perfectly whole. It was a nasty talent, one my Father despised.

"I hope he's in a better mood this time around,” I murmured, remembering the last time he returned home after an obligatory trip.

"He won't be,” Trent stated flatly. “What he does is the most invasive form of torture. It would wear anyone down. I'll be ecstatic for everyone involved when his time is met."

"It hardly seems fair, using his abilities like that. And I'm supposed to want to join a group of people who use each other like that? I don't know, Trent. It seems barbaric to me. Even worse, if my ability is something they want for themselves, they'll find a way to get to me, too. I don't want to be forced to hurt people."

He didn't deny it. “Of course they'd try, but it is your choice. Your Father, on the other hand, broke the rules when he shamed the entire Acarons family. He's lucky he got so light a punishment. Remember, he never used his talent for anyone until he went for your Mother. That was the catalyst that brought about his downfall."

"I bet they loved the excuse. It gave them exactly what they wanted,” I said angrily.

My Father would return every other week distraught and moody, his eyes steely grey. His foul temper and short fuse kept us all on edge, including Mom.

"Have you decided if you'll accompany us to the gathering in London?” Trent asked casually, changing the subject. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye.

"I don't know. I haven't made up my mind yet."

Attending the gathering surrounded by vampires would signify my willingness to be transformed. I wasn't ready for that step, too unsure of what I wanted.

"You don't have to be changed if you go,” Trent insisted, slipping easily into my mind. “It's an introduction only."

"That may be, but they would still expect it to happen eventually. Not to mention, that entire figuring out my abilities thing they do gives me the willies."

I cringed at the thought of standing in front of all of them, having a vampire discover my unknown abilities while they looked on. It was bad enough uncovering what I'd be capable of, especially knowing what Dad could do. Add my phobia of public attention into the mix, and it was a double whammy.

We went through the back of the manor, past the storage shelves and into the smaller kitchen. I walked to the stainless steel fridge to snag a coke, taking a seat on the bar stool next to the squared island. Trent leaned on the counter across from me, watching as I cracked open the can, drinking it down.

I covered a soft belch with my fingers.

"That's so attractive,” Trent cooed, cracking a smile.

"I know you love it,” I antagonized, taking another heaping gulp. Maybe that was part of his attraction. I didn't give a shit if he found me impossibly beautiful or incredibly disgusting.

"So, about that dinner, there is a quaint little place I'd like to take you off the coast.” He smiled at me, blue-green eyes working their magic. “There will be a live pianist, a dance floor, and it's exclusively private."

"Oh no.” I threw my head back, groaning in exasperation. “Don't do this again!"

"Do what?” Mom asked as she drifted into the room, elegant as always.

Her long hair was clipped off her face, tumbling down her back in thick waves. She was casual today, in jeans and a sweater. Normally, she wore flowing dresses or slacks. Dad insisted she never overcame her hippy phase. I still found myself shocked in her presence. Her youth, so like to my own, was merely clever facade.

"Entice our girl to have dinner with me.” Trent attempted to sway Mom to his side, smiling sweetly and flashing those electric blues. “I promise to have her home before the sun comes up."

"Trent,” she warned, eyes darkening. “You know that she has enough stress right now without you badgering her as well."

"It appears I'm outnumbered,” he growled playfully, turning away from the counter and walking out of the kitchen. I listened to his steps on the stone floor as they faded, relaxing when they were no longer evident.

"Has there been any word from Dad?” I inquired, sipping my near empty can of coke.

"He will arrive home this evening,” she answered, sounding both relieved and concerned.

"Maybe he didn't have to do anything this time,” I offered somberly, keeping the hope detached from my voice.

I knew she both dreaded and anticipated his arrivals home because it was such a mixed bag. She never knew which man would be coming back to her. It could be the sweet and gentle one she loved, or the bitter and tormented one who'd just assaulted someone in the worst ways imaginable.

"I hope so,” she acknowledged, sliding in across from me, her fingers gently brushing my arm. She touched me often, to make sure I was really there, she said. She didn't have any special talents or powers, just Mother's intuition, and that was all she needed.

"You miss him still?” She touched my hand again, pulling away just as quickly.

"It's getting easier,” I lied, aware of whom she spoke. “I'm taking it one day at a time."

"I know how it feels, Emma.” Her brows creased in sympathy. “If you feel this way, maybe you should consider what we discussed before."

Easier said than done.

Sure I could fly back and track Caleb down, demanding an explanation delivered directly to my face instead of the cold shoulder he had provided. It sounded like one hell of a plan at first. Then a nasty little something called my pride got in the way.

I could go and confront him, but what if he said the same thing? Would it provide closure to have my frail emotions trampled even worse, just to prove a point? I didn't know if I could take that kind of heart break again.

It was bad enough the first time around.

"I have thought about it, and I just don't know what good would come from the trip. He wouldn't even answer the phone to speak to me when I called. Think about it, what would he do if I suddenly showed up? Do you think he'd welcome me with open arms and proclaim his love and undying devotion? He'd probably slam the door in my face or run away so that I couldn't find him."

"You won't know for certain unless you try. I did the same thing for you, cutting your Father out of my life even though I didn't want to. You said yourself that he believes he's protecting you. Love drives people to do strange things sometimes."

"You don't leave the people you love,” I rasped in frustration, plopping the can onto the counter. “And what protection did he think he was offering? He abandoned me with people I didn't even know. I could understand if he had talked to me or tried to explain, but he didn't. He just cut me completely from his life."

"Maybe he can't talk to you because it's too painful for him. Just because he acts as if he's not hurting, it doesn't mean he isn't. Emotions are easier to hide than they are to suppress. Why don't you call Sarah? Speak to her about all of this and tell her how you feel, Emma."