Matters of the Blood (20 page)

"Well, what, Adam?” I said. “I'm not insulted, I'm angry. You have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"I suppose you do?"

His sardonic tone matched the clever arrogance of his pose. Damn it, he looked so good doing it, too. He stood with his arms loosely crossed over his chest, the pure black of the silk contrasting with the clear pale skin, green eyes smoldering at me in the dark. But I wasn't going to let a little lust distract me. Okay, a
lot
of lust.

"Yes, I most certainly do,” I said. “I have every idea of what I'm talking about. Did you not even begin to wonder why I was so quick to accept the fact that you're a vampire?"

"I'm sorry, I don't follow your reasoning. You said you'd met vampires before, in Soho."

I was getting exasperated. “Did you ever actually go to that club, or had you just heard of it?"

"I'm not much for nightclubs,” he admitted.

That's why he didn't know. If he'd spent any time at all there, he'd have met several of my London relatives who tended to consider the club their home away from home. At Night Moves, no one bothered hiding who or what they were. Normal humans couldn't even find the place because it was so well shielded. I should have realized he hadn't been there when he hadn't been surprised I had, especially since he thought of me as a human.

Unless, of course, this was all some macho bullshit game and he was just playing me.

I climbed back onto the porch and sat down on the swing. Later was turning out to be now. Adam followed, sitting next to me, saying nothing.

"Adam, about me, my life,” I began.

His gaze didn't waver, fixed on my face as if he were memorizing it.

"There's so much I need to explain.” I tried to keep my voice even and steady.

He stayed silent, watching me with a measuring gaze. I wondered what he was thinking.

I placed my hands on my knees. Words weren't going to be enough. How did I tell him about the physiological and metaphysical changes I was going through? About the power that was in me and that I could neither control yet nor identify?

The palms of my hands weren't exactly sweating, but I could feel them buzzing a little, with the contained energy that I was holding back with a great deal of effort. I couldn't find the words to explain but I could definitely give him a taste of what I was. Share the possibilities.

"Hold out your hands, Adam,” I said, my voice husky. He did as I asked. I took a deep breath in preparation and then took his hands in mine. He jerked a little, as our palms touched, but I gripped harder. He hadn't seen anything yet.

I held his gaze and smiled a little, trying to reassure him with my expression. He smiled back, but still kept silent. I closed my eyes and consciously relaxed my muscles, hesitating a little before taking the final step. In a rush, I lowered all my shields, allowing my power to travel down my arms and across to the man sitting next to me. It wasn't the full measure of what I'd be capable of in a few weeks, just the untapped potential of a changeling, but I knew it would still be rather impressive. I'd always tested fairly high.

Adam trembled a little but didn't let go of my hands. I poured out everything I had, reached out with every iota of my ability and energy, letting it completely loose for the first time since I'd been with Gideon. Adam's eyes burned at me, shadows and flickering fire dancing behind the glittering green. His hands convulsed on mine, sliding up to grip my wrists as if my hands were no longer safe to touch.

I grasped his wrists in return, swallowing as the craving built in me, a need stronger than the darkest hunger, more powerful than the overwhelming and totally absolute drive that I'd felt during the hunt. Was that my hunger or his? I couldn't tell.

Adam growled and pulled me closer, lips pulled back, fangs bared, extended. I felt desire engulf me as my need merged with his. I crawled into his lap and embraced him, both of us fighting for control. I wanted to sink fangs into him, drink the hot blood pulsing beneath the skin of his neck, knowing that was the only thing that would satisfy my thirst. I could feel the same yearning echoed in him.

Saliva collected in my mouth as I bent my head, my knees straddling his thighs, my hands on his shoulders, my teeth straining to reach, to tear, to taste.

"No!” Adam roared and stood, pushing me away. I fell, my head hitting the wooden planks with an audible crack. As I passed out, I felt the connection between us break.

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My nose twitched, the smell of waxy smoke reached me, teasing me awake. I blinked a few times, trying to figure out where I was.

The soft glow of a pair of Victorian-style wrought-iron floor lamps created the perfect ambience, the purple watered-silk shades diffusing the glare of electric light. I was lying on a soft overstuffed couch covered in a matching purple, cushions piled under my head and my feet. The couch sat just under the front windows and facing a doorway that must lead to a bedroom.

In front of the couch, a rustic wooden coffee table just a few shades lighter than the polished hardwood floor displayed a varied array of candles surrounding a handmade ceramic bowl filled with an assortment of individually wrapped chocolate truffles. One of the candles had just extinguished; its gray-white plume of smoke rising to the ceiling like an unnaturally thin ghost. A bottle of wine stood in front of the bowl, flanked by two wine stems. Adam must have brought me into his house.

An afghan covered me. The pain in the back of my head was a dull ache, nothing I couldn't handle, but still annoying. I shuddered as reality washed over me and the memory of what I'd almost done returned. I'd been a scant second from tearing out Adam's throat. Definitely not a way to win friends and seduce a possible lover. I turned my head and scanned the room, not moving from my supine position. No sign of him. Had he completely freaked and bolted?

After a few moments, I realized I was hearing something other than the normal creaks and groans of a country house. Voices. Outside on the porch.

I struggled to sit up without hurting. That wasn't going to be easy. Every muscle ached as if I'd been beaten by an expert. Trouble with channeling raw power was that you paid for it, usually in spades. I'd known that going in, but figured the risk was worth the effort. Now I wasn't so sure.

I carefully swung my feet to the floor, waiting to see if I was dizzy or disoriented. I wasn't, but I realized I was in stocking feet.

I walked to the front window, moving as slowly as if I were driving a Ferrari through a school zone. My engine wanted to rev, but my body said “no way."

The blinds were drawn and I couldn't see a thing. I slid over to the front door, which stood slightly ajar. Through the two-inch space, I could see the screen door was closed. I put my eye to the gap.

Adam stood to my right on the dark porch, his back to me, hand to his ear. He was on the phone.

I strained to hear, but the words were muffled as if I were listening through a thick wall. I rubbed at my ears and tried again. Nothing. I couldn't be sure if there were even words.

This was stupid. I swung the door open. Adam turned without a sound.

I started to say something, then thought better of it. I shook my aching head and just went back inside. I needed to sit down.

"Keira?” The word floated softly on the air, almost tangible as it reached my ears. “Can we talk?"

"Maybe."

I went back to the couch and curled up in the corner, wrapping the afghan around me. I wasn't really cold, it just felt safer that way. As if the blanket could protect me ... from myself, mostly. I was afraid if I let Adam Walker get close again, my body would betray me and I'd forget about the fact that he'd just dumped me on my ass—literally. Not to mention the fact that both of us had come a hair's breadth away from feeding on each other.

He walked toward me, slow and careful, as if nearing a pit full of hot coals, or maybe a rabid dog you weren't sure was restrained. If I were him, I'd have definitely thought of the dog analogy.

"Are you well?” he asked as he carefully sat down in the armchair. Good choice. I couldn't have handled him sharing the couch, being so close again, at least, not right now.

I nodded, not yet sure of what I wanted to say.

His face remained neutral, expectant, as if he'd sit there patiently and let me take my own time about talking. His posture was loose but not quite relaxed, more the not-quite-tension of an animal waiting to see if the noise it heard was predator or fellow prey. At this point, I wasn't sure which one I was—or wanted to be.

"Who was that?” I said, my voice a little hoarse as if I'd not spoken for days.

"Where?” His wasn't any better. He sounded as if he'd been silent for centuries, voice rusty with disuse. Nothing like a little discomfort to change our normality. Oh yeah, none of our communications had exactly been normal.

"Outside, on the phone,” I said. “Who were you talking to?"

"Andrea.” He fixed his gaze on me. “Before I explain—what the hell happened out there?"

I met his eyes, the weight of his expectation fixing my gaze. “I guess I could ask you something similar. Why did you throw me off?"

He looked down at his feet, hands smoothing the fabric of his slacks over his thighs. I heard him swallow. The tip of his tongue flickered out, fast as a serpent's, and licked his lips.

"I'm sorry,” he said. “Something happened that frightened me."

His voice was nearly a whisper in the dark room.

"I scared you?"

"I haven't been tempted to feed from a person in years—more years than you've been alive, I'd wager. Do you know how close I came? I nearly sank my teeth into that lovely neck of yours."

I'd have let him.

"No kidding?” The words burst from me in surprise as I realized what he'd just said. “You don't take blood from people?"

"Not since...” His gaze burned with that hidden flame again. “I've seen too much death and destruction in my life, Keira. I won't be a part of it anymore."

"Wait,” I said, sitting straight up and letting the afghan drop. “You're serious. Don't tell me ... a vampire with a soul, helping the helpless?” So I was making a very bad joke. Sue me. I didn't know what else to say.

"I am completely serious, Keira. This isn't some B-movie or a cult television show,” he said. “We're lucky now. Modern science is a wonderful thing. We don't have to risk discovery by feeding on people anymore."

"But someone fed on my cousin."

"That is why I told you I'd investigate. It's against our laws."

"Even when it's consensual? If Marty had wanted it?"

He didn't answer. I watched his face in the shadows, a multitude of expressions flickering across his features.

"Adam?"

"It's not against the law if it's consensual.” The words held no expression, but behind the syllables, I sensed the weight of something else left unsaid.

"Why does this bother you, Adam? Isn't this your nature?"

A heavy sigh escaped him. “Yes. Our nature and our need, driving us to first seduce and then to bleed our victims, our prey. There's a fine line between glamour and consent. It's easy to glamour, to seduce an all-too-willing victim, but this kind of thing is distasteful to most civilized vampires. The difference between rape and seduction is salesmanship. If the ability to make a choice is removed, if ‘no’ isn't an option, then it's rape, pure and simple."

He had a point.

"But surely some of them seek you out?"

"Always. Perhaps your cousin was one of those. But if he wasn't, then whoever fed from him crossed a line, especially if they're responsible for his death. I will find out."

I had to ask. “Don't you miss the hunt?"

I'd felt his need when we'd merged—the same thrill of the chase, the stalking of the prey, the capture and finally the taste of the hot, fresh blood as it filled your mouth. I knew that somewhere inside Adam Walker, reformed vampire, the crude, yet powerful, drive to hunt still lurked.

"What do you know of the hunt?"

His comeback was nothing if not timely. I wanted to bring up the truth I'd been skirting: the fact Adam and I had shared power, merged psyches, whatever that had been. I'd only meant to lower my guard and let him feel the hidden energy. It had never occurred to me that my plan might backfire. I'd been trying to prove a point. In this case, the point had been just a little too sharp.

I let the darkness show in my eyes as I caught his gaze again. I knew what those shadows looked like. I'd seen them in a mirror just a couple of days ago.

"You may have wanted to feed from me, Adam, but you're not the only one. I felt the need, too. The hunt is a part of who I am. I'm a changeling. In a few weeks, I could be hunting for real. You felt it, you know the truth."

He shook his head as if in confusion. “What I felt was something more than hunter, Keira. You're not a vampire. You're not human. What are you?"

"I'm me, Adam. I don't know what I else am anymore. Hunter, shapeshifter, clairvoyant, I could be anything. In the meantime, I'll exhibit varying symptoms—most of which I don't have a whole lot of control over."

He stood, a rapid jerky motion, as ill-fitting on him as an Armani suit would have been on Marty. Without a word, he strode to the window and opened the blinds, to stare out at the night. He stood still as a rock in a stream, one hand still touching the wooden rod, one loose at his side. I sensed no movement from him, not even the slight exchange of air from breathing. Did he have to breathe? Another question.

"We're not all the same, Adam,” I continued, talking to his taut back. “My father, my brothers are mostly shapeshifters, predators. Some relatives are weather-talents, seers, sorcerers, necromancers ... many other things. We lived here for decades, until the Hill Country became the playground for rich assholes with more money than sense. Then they all left. But I stayed."

"Tell me of your cousin Marty. Was he a necromancer, then? Was that why he was dealing in dead animals from my ranch?” The bitterness was evident.