The Sacrifice (26 page)

“Come with me!” I beg, still reaching for her.

“I can’t.” Her long, ebony hair is alight, the black turned to an
orange and red and gold corona by the flickering, hungry flames. “I can’t, Emma.
The fire, once called, demands a sacrifice. Go!”

I don’t understand her words. I only know that my mother is
burning…burning… I struggle in the strong grip of whoever is holding me back.

“Keep her safe,” my mother cries, as the flames consume her. “You
are oath-bound to protect her!”

“I will,” a deep voice says. And then he is taking me away, taking
me to safety while my mother burns. “Don’t look,” he tells me. “You don’t want
to see.”

“Mamma!
Mamma!”
I scream and beat against his back but he
pays me no attention. He moves me swiftly away from the burning house and out
into the dark yard. Out there, among the trees, I see a swarthy face—the man
with horns—coming for me. But when he sees my protector, he scowls.

“She is not for you,” the man holding me says. “Tell your masters
she is not to be touched.”

“She’s safe—for now. When the power of her blood manifests—”

“She is not to be touched,” my protector grates. “She’s under my
protection.”

“We’ll see about that.” The horned man fades into the darkness
between the trees, laughing. He leaves an unpleasant, musky odor behind that
lingers long after his ugly chuckle has faded. When he’s gone, my thoughts
return to the horror I have just witnessed.

“Mamma,” I whisper brokenly.

“She’s gone, darling,” murmurs a soft voice. “I’m so sorry. She’s
gone. Gone…”

“Gone…” I wake up crying, as I always do from The Dream.

What exactly happened that night—the night of the fire that I
always dream about and can never quite remember? I can recall very few details.
I remember crying inconsolably. Strong arms carrying me and a deep, soothing
voice telling me I would be all right. The dark, smoke-smelling night folding
around us. And then my rescuer, whoever he was, depositing me in my aunt’s
arms. “She’s yours now. Take care of her.”

And then he disappeared.

I never saw his face. I never knew his name or even where he came
from. But he saved me from running back into the fire and from the danger in
the woods…
Danger? What danger? Something about a man with horns…

I try, but the dream is slipping away. The more I try to grasp at
the details, the more they disintegrate to ashes, like paper in a fire.

And then the pain starts, driving away every other thought in my
head.

Chapter Eighteen

My period isn’t a regular, monthly occurrence, like it is for most
women my age. It only comes on me three of four times a year—always presaged by
The Dream.

And it always makes me feel like I’m dying.

The stabbing, grinding ache in my lower abdomen feels like someone
is simultaneously poking me with a bayonet and driving over me with a tractor.
Usually it comes on slowly, giving me time to get up and brew a cup of tea from
the special herb mixture I’ve concocted, which makes it a bit more bearable.
The herbs don’t take all the pain away—nothing short of death could do that. They
do, however, make me feel a little less like I’m about to meet my maker.

But this time the pain hits hard and fast, like a freight train of
agony smashing straight into my body. It hurts so much I can barely breathe and
even if I get up, it won’t do any good. My herb mixture is at home and I have
no way to get it.

I think of calling Lexy—it’s the middle of the night but she would
understand. She was with me when I had my first few cycles—the ones where my
aunt rushed me to the emergency room, certain I had been stricken with
appendicitis or something equally deadly. It was only after having two or three
periods that we realized the grinding agony was normal for me.

So yes, I’ll call Lexy and ask her to get up, go to my apartment
again, and bring me my herbs. But my phone is all the way across the room on
the dresser. I’ll have to get up to get to it and right now, I’m not even sure
if I can turn over, let alone get out of bed and walk across the room.

Still, if I don’t get my special tea, the torture is only going to
get worse. I know from painful experience that it can go on for up to
twenty-four hours before my period finally runs its course. That, of course, is
the only
good
thing about my cycle—it’s very short. It’s like my body
saves up all the pain a normal woman has during her entire week long cycle,
multiplies it by a factor of twenty, and dumps it on me all at once. All in
all, I think I’d rather have a week of dull, achy cramps than one twenty-four
hour time slot filled with unremitting agony. But it’s not up to me.

Grimly, I force myself to roll over in bed and sit up. The effort
leaves me shaking, my forehead damp with sweat. I can feel the wet, sticky
warmth between my thighs and I’m afraid I’m ruining the crisp cotton sheets. I
never have a very heavy flow but it’s enough that I need a tampon—which is
something else I left at home. I’ll ask Lexy to bring them along with the
herbal tea mixture.

Now comes the hard part—standing up. I know that getting to my
feet is going to feel like someone stabbing me with a thousand knives but I
have
to do it. I have to reach my phone. Why the hell didn’t I leave it on the
nightstand instead of all the way across the room on the dresser?
Ugh…this
is going to really hurt…

Pushing against the mattress with all my strength, I lever myself
up into a shaky standing position.
Okay, that wasn’t so bad.
Then I take
the first step and the knives hit me. The bright flare of agony in my lower
belly brings me to my knees. I hit the carpeted floor with a
thump
and a
low moan is drawn from my lips. For a minute, all I can think about is how much
it hurts.
The pain…the pain…Oh Goddess, please make it stop…

And then someone is bending over me. In the darkness, I see a pale
face, almost too perfect to be real. Luminous silver-gray eyes are staring
anxiously into mine.
Aiden…Master…

“I’m here, darling.” He sounds worried—maybe on the edge of panic
but somehow he’s holding it together. “What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?”

“Not…hurt,” I manage to gasp.

He frowns. “The hell you’re not—I can smell the blood. What have
you done to yourself?” He lifts one of my arms and examines my wrist, maybe
looking for slash marks.

“I…I didn’t cut myself,” I say, trying to pull my wrist away.

“Then what’s going on?” he demands.

Absurdly, I’m embarrassed. Despite the raw pain still tearing
through me, I don’t want to explain. This is a female matter—
private.
And
I’ve yet to meet a man, human or supernatural, who didn’t shy away from
discussing it. But Aiden is bending over me, his eyes filled with concern,
clearly waiting for an answer.

“It’s…” I gasp as another bolt of pain shoots through me.

Aiden grips my shoulder tighter. “What? What is it?” he urges.

“Just…just my period,” I whisper through gritted teeth.

Aiden’s face fills with understanding. “Your monthly cycle. Is it
always this bad?”

“Always,” I whisper, grateful that he understands. “I need my
herbal tea—it’s at home but I’ll get Lexy to bring it. That helps a little.”

Aiden frowns. “It will take too much time for her to get here.”
Gently, he scoops me into his arms and carries me back to the bed.

“No, don’t.” I struggle weakly as he tries to slide me back under
the covers. “The sheets—I’ll ruin them.”

“Damn the sheets,” he says angrily. He puts me in bed and then
crawls in beside me. He’s no longer wearing his expensive business suit, I
realize hazily. He’s back to faded blue jeans and a t-shirt.

The pain gets worse and I start to shiver. Aiden sits up a moment,
rips his shirt off and holds me close, obviously trying to warm me with his
body heat. I close my eyes and try not to think about the pain but it fills me,
consumes me. It feels like someone is digging out my insides with a dull
shovel.

“Emma,” he whispers harshly in my ear. “This is too much for you
to bear. I’m going to give you something to dull the pain.”

“Drugs…don’t help,” I whisper, fighting to get the words out.
“Nothing but the herbs. Call…Lexy.”

“This
will help,” he says with such certainty that I open my eyes to see what he’s
talking about.

I focus on him just in time to see him bring his wrist to his
teeth and bite down hard, his white fangs sinking into his pale flesh. He pulls
his mouth away and deep crimson blood, like liquid rubies, begins to flow down
his wrist. The set of his eyes betrays the agony he’s feeling—if everything
I’ve heard is true, Aiden has just inflicted pain equal to what I’m going
through on himself. Losing blood is a traumatic and excruciating experience for
vampires. As I explained before, their bodies don’t want to give it up.

“No,” I whisper, my eyes going wide with horror. “You can’t…”

“The hell I can’t,” he says fiercely. “Didn’t I tell you I’d give
my blood if you needed it? Well, you need it now, Emma.” He presses his
bleeding wrist to my lips. “Drink. It will make the pain less.”

I open my mouth to protest but then his blood is filling my mouth.
It’s hot and sweet like melted honey with a sharp, metallic tang at the end. Too
weak to push him away, I let it fill my mouth and run down my throat like
liquid sunshine. I know this must be hurting my master but he doesn’t make a
sound or a sign, only watches anxiously as my throat moves, swallowing the sacrifice
of blood he gives me.

It only takes a minute or two before I feel a change. Something
miraculous is happening—the stabbing, grinding pain in my lower abdomen is
fading. Slowly, but surely it slides away, like a chain pulled crushingly tight
around my belly is being loosened. At last, all that’s left is a dull ache,
which, while not pleasant, is a
hell
of a lot better than what I felt
before.

Feeling stronger, I push Aiden’s wrist away. There’s no need for
him to endure any more pain for me and anyway, the self-inflicted wounds on his
pale flesh are already healing. His face is still anxious as he looks down at
me. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” I say and take a deep breath. “Thank you. I know how much
that must have hurt.”

“My pain doesn’t matter,” he says roughly. “It’s yours I’m
concerned with. Is it gone—all the way gone?”

“Almost completely,” I assure him. “There’s nothing but a few, uh,
cramps left now.” I feel my cheeks getting hot as I say it. Now that the pain
has dissipated, I’m embarrassed again.

“Almost completely isn’t good enough.” Aiden strokes my cheek. “I
want you well.”

“I feel a lot better than I did,” I point out. “Not even my herbal
tea helps this much. Honestly, I feel almost normal.”

“You need a little pleasure to dispel the last of the pain,” Aiden
decides. Cupping my cheek, he kisses me gently on the mouth. Despite my recent
agony and the cramps I’m still feeling, his touch makes my heart pound and my
blood race.

“Master…” I whisper. “I don’t…”

“You don’t have to worry about anything,” Aiden finishes for me,
firmly. “Just relax, darling, and let me take care of you. First we’ll get you
cleaned up.”

Now I’m truly mortified. “Don’t bother,” I say hastily. “I’m
feeling better—I can take care of myself.” I start to get up and go in the bathroom
but Aiden pushes me back down, gently but firmly.

“I know you can but I don’t want you to.
I’m
going to take
care of you. Do you understand?”

Biting my lip, I nod. “Yes, Master,” I whisper.

I expect him to go get a wet washcloth to clean away the evidence
of my cycle. As I said, I don’t have a heavy flow but my inner thighs are wet
and sticky with blood and no doubt there are spots on the sheet beneath me.

But instead of leaving, Aiden starts kissing me. He starts by
nuzzling the sensitive side of my neck and then works his way down. He takes
his time, drawing one aching nipple between his lips and sucking it slowly but
deeply, taking as much of my breast into his mouth as he can until I cry out at
the intensity of the sensation. Then he moves to the next one, being just as
slow and tender and deliberate as he was with the first.

By the time he finally finishes with my breasts and moves on down
my trembling abdomen, the ache in my belly is no longer just cramps. I can feel
sparks of pleasure moving inside me, the hot need growing in my pussy.

But I’m still shocked when he gets between my thighs and bends
down to kiss me there.

“Aiden!” I gasp, trying to close my legs, to shut him out.
“Master, no! You
can’t.
”

“Why can’t I?” he asks, looking at me directly. His hands rest
lightly on my knees, which are turned inward, trying desperately to keep him
out. I know he could force them apart if he wanted to but he doesn’t—he just
sits there looking at me as though what he wants to do is the most normal thing
in the world.