Stealing Time (2 page)

Sound came first, a steady cadence from close by, and I yearned, willing it nearer. Feeling came next and I felt myself cradled in someone’s arms, my head lying against a broad, well-muscled chest.

I must have stirred.

“Evie? My name is James. You were gravely injured, but you’re going to be fine now.”

The sheer beauty of that voice struck me still and I lay listening to its resonance, holding my breath to hear it better. A steady, soft rhythm and a liquid sound filled my head and, for a time, my pulse matched it.
A heartbeat?
The words came unbidden, and I marveled at
words
and
thoughts
.
I know these things.

“Take your time.” The magical sound came again and as the words were spoken, I could focus on their meaning. “The change is overwhelming. Your senses are awakening.”

Touch intoxicated me next—the rise and fall of the man’s chest under my cheek, the silky feel of his sweater where it touched my skin, the gliding pressure of his hand against my head. I could feel each inch of my body where my weight pressed against him. And it was exhilarating how it all flowed through me, the feelings I was struggling to process.

Still, I had not opened my eyes. And, in the moment that I realized this, my eyelids lifted and all I could do was simply
be
in the long, slow time it took me to understand that I was seeing.

I lifted my head as a painting caught my attention, then I was diverted by the feeling of arms loosening to accommodate my movement. The painting drew my eyes again. I saw first only the thick swirls of the paint itself, the interwoven fibers of the canvas from thirty feet away. The infinitely small details came together as my eyes shifted focus, like a camera going from zoom to normal, and there was the image in its entirety—a magnificent waterfall, rugged hills in the distance, a brass plate on the frame,
James Jacob Wesley 1904.
At first, the letters were nothing but incomprehensible squiggles until my overloaded mind filtered through memories and the meaning was supplied.

Repeatedly, my focus shifted between the tiniest details to the large room we were in. It was maddening to be unable to maintain an image, so I shut my eyes.

“Evie?”

I looked toward the voice and realized I was being held by a stranger. My chest vibrated with a defensive growl. The shock that I was producing this feral sound silenced it.

The man, James, blinked and I was entranced by the beauty of his sparkling pale-green eyes. Each individual eyelash gleamed and reflected light coming from somewhere across the room. His cheeks bore a faint flush, where the blood passed close to the surface. With no conscious thought, I traced a finger along his cheekbone, marveling at the silken texture of his skin and the faint sound of flesh on flesh. I cupped my hand against his face, reveling in the sensation against my palm. It was as if I were feeling for the first time.

His eyes closed and he pressed his cheek into my hand. “Evie,” he whispered and I was lost in the movement of his lips, the feel of his breath on my skin.

A gleam of light teased my eyes and I turned my head to follow it…and was enraptured anew by the sunlight streaming through the windows, the long rectangle of light tracing each line of the inlaid floor. I wasn’t so much seeing but
experiencing
sunlight through every enormously heightened sense, all at once, at the cellular level.

I had the urge to be
there
and was across the room, standing at the window. The warmth of the late afternoon sun pouring through the glass was like liquid gold on my skin and I lifted my face to revel in it. When I inhaled, the warmth of the air filled my lungs and traveled to every nerve ending. I let my mouth fall open and it tingled along my tongue, heated my teeth and flowed down my throat.

Some primal part of me sensed movement and I reacted without thought, wanted to be
elsewhere
—and was on the other side of the room looking back. James stood frozen with his hand held out.

“It’s okay. You’re doing very well.” He moved slowly toward me. “Are you able to focus yet?”

I opened my mouth to speak but had to try again before succeeding.

“Where…?”

This new sound—my own voice—resonated through my chest and throat, and I stood reveling in the sensations of sound and vibration.

What is wrong with me? Why is everything so strange?

James stood before me and I startled. Just as quickly, his masculine beauty distracted me, my pulse calmed and my thoughts slowed. His dark brown hair was thick, wavy and of medium length, and he had a square jaw, strong nose and lightly arched eyebrows. He was about six feet tall, with broad, strong shoulders, a deep chest and slim waist. His physique made me think of an accomplished, self-sufficient man. And when he smiled, it seemed as if the room lit up.

It was awkward being the focus of such a stunning man’s attention, since I kept myself too busy for such things.

Awkward yet…intriguing.

I felt my face move in a new way and felt hands—my hands—touch the curved corners of my mouth.
A smile. Yes.

His answering grin broke my bizarre trance.

“Where am I?”

An emotion crossed his face and I struggled to name it.
Relief?
Yes, that was it. But this meant he’d been worried. The survival instinct flared and I scanned the large room for danger.

“Evie?” he said, his voice gentle. Only when I looked at him did he continue. “You were in a terrible car wreck. I pulled you out and brought you here, to my home.”

Even as I was finally able to control my eyes, my hearing hyper-reacted and it felt as if his words were pelting me, one syllable at a time.

What the hell was wrong with me?

And then I was on the other side of the room, crouched and facing him.

“Your injuries were severe.” He approached slowly. His quiet words felt like wasp stings and I held my hands over my ears, trying to dampen the volume.

“Hospital…?” I asked, forcing my chaotic thoughts into words.

“No, they could not have done anything for you.”

I struggled to comprehend. “Are you a doctor?”

“No. We need to talk, but you must be able to focus before anything I say makes sense to you.”

Even at such a low volume, his voice stung and I shifted again, staying as far from him as the room allowed. I tracked him with my eyes, fighting the distraction of a million minute details—the subtle shift in air pressure caused by the smallest movement, the scent of visitors I somehow knew were many years gone, the warmth and perfection of James’s skin and, astonishingly, the sound of his heartbeat from across the room. Everything was so distracting, so overpowering, so
oppressive
.

“Your senses and nerves are acute upon your first waking,” he said, his voice a bare whisper. “Close your eyes and focus on turning your hearing down. It’s not hard.”

I didn’t like the idea of closing my eyes since he was continuing to shadow me around the room. Not stalking, but not allowing distance to build between us. He may be beautiful, but this was all so strange…and there was something horribly wrong with me. My skin was crawling, my ears were being shredded…

He saw my reluctance and mistrust. “You are safe here. With me.”

Ice picks could not have hurt more than his words or our soft footfalls, so I did as he asked. To my great relief, the pain in my ears and head receded. I could still hear with startling clarity, but it no longer hurt. Another smile stretched my lips and I opened my eyes to find James standing in front of me. Need equated to distance and the width of the room separated us again.

“I am sorry I surprised you.” He backed further away. This now left a clear path to what I guessed was the front door. He must have understood my intent because he said, “Evie, I do not wish to frighten you, but you must remain here, in my house, until you have adjusted.”

I stifled the growl vibrating in my chest, shocked at this involuntary reaction. His gentleness was reassuring but, on a far more powerful level, he was an unknown male and I was in his territory. This primitive awareness made it difficult to be still, so I stopped trying and prowled the far corners of the room, keeping a careful eye on him.

“I wish I could make this easier for you. Your change was very abrupt and there was no time to prepare you for it.”

I processed his words. “My…change?”

Why is everything so difficult? Do I have brain damage?

This was terrifying. I was a recognized crime reporter for one of the top newspapers in the U.S. Thinking fast was something I took for granted. Now, however, I could barely put two words together.

His brows creased. “Your heart rate has accelerated, Evie. There is no reason to be alarmed.”

I stared, shock and my bizarre mental condition preventing speech. He could hear my heartbeat? From so far away?

“Do you remember that you were injured?” When I nodded, he continued, “How do you feel now?”

I thought,
freaked out, mental.
My throat was very dry and beginning to ache. “I feel…” It seemed that there was something I wanted, if I could just think. James’s presence, my senses pinging constantly and this growing need got my feet pacing faster.

“When I brought you here, you were very near death. Not just from your illness. From the crash. There was massive internal damage and you were hemorrhaging.” He hesitated, his eyes watchful. “I told you that you were dying and you said you wanted to live.”

“Yes.” The memory consisted of little more than snippets of images, but it was there. Besides, wanting to live, praying to live, fighting with every last shred of my will to live was a given and required no thought. I reached the far wall and began the return trip.

“So I changed you. I made you like me.” At my confused expression, he continued, “A vampire.”

“Wh-what?” My feet stopped.

“It’s not like the old wives’ tales,” he said, his voice soothing. “In fact, very little of what humans know of us is true.”

My eyes flicked to the front door. Even as I considered it, I was there. But he was faster. Swaying to a stop, I inadvertently braced my hands against his chest and he caught them in his own. I spooked sideways and he released me.

“I am sorry, Evie, but you must stay here a while. For your safety and the safety of others.”

My throat was a column of smoldering embers now. “Others?” It was the faintest of whispers, but he heard.

“Humans. They are a vampire’s natural prey, but harming them is unnecessary. If you went among them right now, as a young changeling…it would be bad.”

When he said “humans” and “prey,” the embers in my throat flared down to my stomach before burning their way back up, intensifying and reaching inferno status in seconds. I wrapped my hands around my throat and gasped. “What…is…happening…to…me?”

“Your first thirst has awakened. Please, come with me. Let me help you.” James backed halfway down a hallway adjacent to the room we were in. He stopped and waited, watching to see what I would do. The door was now unguarded, but there was no question that I would follow him—he’d said he could help and I would do anything to make this agony stop.

When I moved toward him, he turned and continued down the hall, checking over his shoulder as I trailed along unsteadily. “Your body has gone through an enormous metamorphosis in the last two days.”

I had lost two days?

This should have generated panic, outrage, some form of concern at least, but nothing could register beyond the condition of my insides—from embers to a conflagration to a violent explosion of volcanic magma, my throat flamed hotter and hotter still. There must be a limit to the level of agony tissue could experience and not liquefy, but this…this was incalculable, unimaginable, a never-ending blazing intensity that fed on itself in an ascension of excruciating, searing torture.

I barely registered that we were in a kitchen and that James held a tall stool for me. My gaze locked onto a dark red crystal decanter and a heavy cut-glass tumbler sitting on the counter. A delicious scent reached me and I realized that the decanter was not red—
its contents were.
“Vampire” echoed through my mind.

“This will help calm you so we can talk,” he said as he poured. With the full tumbler in front of me, my half-formed suspicions were confirmed.

Before I could bolt with revulsion, the spicy aroma filled my head, scouring it of all thought. And the scent—the rich, intoxicating, gorgeous allure of it—spoke to some primitive part of me, whispered the promise of relief from the agony, soothed my shattered nerves, sang a siren’s song of longing and the ultimate fulfillment.

Without conscious thought, the heavy glass was in my shaking hands, the exquisite liquid soothing my tortured insides. I sat for a long, slow moment and reveled in the lack of pain. Just not hurting was a miracle in itself.

And then a wave of power and energy roared through my veins, danced along every synapse, arced like lightning to fill my mind. Never had I imagined such a sense of well-being and my face tilted skyward as I trembled with it. Strength flowed through me, banishing the anxiety and confusion.

The last few months had been a blur of weakness and increasing pain as the cancer ravaged my body and made simple things like getting dressed an endurance test. I was twenty-six but had moved like I was over a hundred.

But
this
felt as if electricity crackled through me, as if sparks danced on my skin. Even my hair seemed alive with it, and I quivered with the effort to keep it all inside, to remain still on the barstool.

I turned to look at James, focused my careening thoughts, and the sparks settled, the trembling eased. “Hello,” I said. The constant sensory input continued in the back of my mind, like graphics scrolling at the bottom of a TV screen—it was there if I wanted to look.

He grinned and said in a gentle voice, “Hello, yourself. Feeling better?”

“Oh yes,” I breathed. “Thank you.”