Page 11 of Ashvale: The Vampire's Kiss

Wavy brown hair fell across a pale forehead, circles beneath eyes that I knew lit up when he spoke about books. Rowan’s face was slack, his chest too still, and the IV in his arm pushed blood into his body, the heavy scent of it filing my nose with a bitter tang. Not an eyelash fluttered, not a finger twitched, for all intents and purposes, Rowan looked… dead.

I wasn’t sure what I’d expected to feel, seeing him now when the last time we’d been face to face I'd had my hand in his chest. Rage, definitely, and it was there, burning in the back of my mind. Sorrow, too, because he’d been my friend. And guilt, of course, that I was the reason he was here, lying prone in the skinny metal-framed bed. Except, I couldn’t help thinking that this was the bed he’d made for himself. I might have taken his heart, but it was his actions that had led him to that moment. I could almost still feel the warmth of it in my hand, beating quickly as my fingers dug in, like tugging on a heavy fruit, and I shuddered as I remembered how it had felt pulling free.

He was one of the rare few who survived the loss of the heart—for now. Only time would tell if those eyes would ever open again. And, if they did, whether I would find condemnation inside of them.

The air didn’t stir, and yet I knew the undead vamp posing as some kind of 1930s-esque nurse stood behind me. I didn’t need more enemies, not with the cursed letter finding its way to my room, so I turned and moved aside easily.

“So you’re the one,” the woman mused and her blue eyes kept me spellbound for a second, like I could see her long-years reflected in those irises. “You’re lucky he might survive your impulsivity.”

I bit my tongue and it bled into my mouth for a second before I responded, “Lucky. Yes, that’s exactly how people often describe me.”

The nurse’s expression hadn’t been exactly warm, but it cooled several degrees at my words. “Leave. I’ll not have your energy affecting my patient.”

I blinked at her slowly, a challenge in my stare for half a second before I let it fade. “Of course.” I took a step forward, away from Rowan, and then hesitated before spinning around and leaning towards his ear. “Sweet dreams.”

If Rowan survived the change, I might just have to kill him all over again.

Chapter Six

Hayes

With Leonora on her way back to Cal’s, I was all-too happy to leave and avoid the temptation that came with her presence. She was safe for now, her friends keeping her grounded, and until the bond started to drive me insane again, I would keep my distance. There were a few spots in London that used magick to stay hidden from mortals, and others that blended the nightlife with a club hidden beneath the bar just for those with fangs. I had to assume that the mages were also welcome, but most of them were too uptight to know what the word fun meant, let alone actually try it out.

There had only been a few faces in the undead vampire’s mind that I’d recognised. One of them, an angel-faced woman, was a regular at a bar I’d once frequented.

Devil’s Delight was only a short ride away by train from Cal’s place and it was almost exactly as I remembered it. It was one of the places hidden in plain sight of the mortals, with spells set to divert and hide it from those who had no business seeing the supernatural world. The music was a thumping, driving bass that reverberated in my chest and the strobe lights were blue, painting me a somewhat ghostly figure with my white hair and pale skin.

Despite it being the middle of the week, the place was packed—then again, I supposed when you were immortal, the working week ceased to matter. As did the concept of day drinking.

The woman I’d come looking for was sitting at the far end of the bar, looking practically cherubic with her creamy skin and fine blonde hair in direct contrast to the shiny black of the floor and bar top. Her eyes were blue, like mine, but flat—an unmistakable sign of the undead. Not all of them turned cold, of course, but from the power crackling over my skin, she was old and that tended to turn even the mildest of vampires into something less than human.

A small, wide glass filled with ice and spiced rum clinked down in front of me and I looked up in surprise as the bartender nodded to the very woman I’d come to see. I knew better than to drink anything handed to me by a vampire, but I nodded my thanks before making a show of cowed hesitation. Another thing you learned quickly about old vampires—they liked it when the younger ones grovelled.

Leonora would probably pretend to die of shock to hear me say it, but I could be charming when I wanted to—or when the situation called for it. I let a hint of a smile play around my mouth as I stood and walked to the undead vampire watching me through hooded eyes completely at odds with her youthful, innocent face.

“May I join you?” I nodded to the empty bar stool next to her and the blue of her eyes deepened as she tilted her head with cat-like grace.

“You may,” she purred and I let my smile grow a fraction as I sat down beside her and sipped my drink. “Tell me, are you as young as you look?”

I knew she wasn’t really asking about my age. No, she wanted to know whether I was like her—undead or living. “My heart still beats, as I’m sure you well know.” I hid any edge in my voice behind a smooth deepness that made her flutter her eyes at me, like a teenager in thrall.

“Fascinating,” she said, leaning in closer and wetting her lips. It was only years of practice that kept my face blank, my body in place though it wanted to recoil. She smelled like death—like the old blood of rotting meat and dried flowers crumbling with age or mould. My nose was a little sharper than that of other vampires, in thanks, I assumed, to my wolf-side. Maybe a squirt of perfume would have fooled the others, but my senses were keen enough to scent the rot beneath the beauty.

Still, I smiled back at her and played the game. I needed to get her alone. That was where Nora and I differed—she didn’t much care for games in the shadows or the art of subtlety. But me? I thrived on it, had taken a necessity and turned it into a strength. Vampires, especially the old ones, liked to pretend they believed in honour, in fighting your battles in the open with strength as your champion rather than deceit. And yet, nobody knew how to lurk in the shadows quite as well as them either.

There was power on this one, in the controlled and precise movements of her limbs when she moved and a keen intelligence behind her eyes. I let her talk, responding only when necessary to keep the intrigue alive, and when she gestured to one of the private rooms available beyond the bar for a quick bite or fuck, I knew I had her. Now I only had to kill her without dying myself.

Her hips swayed as she walked ahead of me and I threw back the last of my drink and replaced the glass on the end of the bar as we passed. I had to play this right. She didn’t seem the type to bite without a little chit-chat, but I’d have to be on my guard regardless.

The corridor was dark and mostly silent, with only the occasional grunt or thump making its way out past the sound-proofed rooms. She moved with an ease that said she’d done this before and I had to appreciate her confidence, the anonymity of all of it. I knew her face, but not her name, and she knew nothing about me. The cynic in me wondered if she planned to kill me—easier to get away with it when there was nothing tying you together except a bartender who could undoubtedly be bought. Not that anyone would really be investigating my death except Leonora and, even then, she’d probably complain about the inconvenience. I smirked in the darkness and then winced when the bond flared, like it was urging me to go to her, to drink her in.

I pushed down the surge of emotion. I couldn’t afford to be distracted right then, not with a bigger predator breathing down my neck.

The black door swung open soundlessly to reveal a relatively small room with a red couch so big and deep it might as well have been a bed. A few low-light lamps were placed in the corners of the room and their yellow glow made the vampire in front of me look sick. Her delicate skin waxy, her blonde hair like straw, those blank blue eyes, lifeless. It was satisfying in a twisted way, like reality itself had bent for a second to show me the true face of the undead woman I’d come to kill.

“This is better, isn’t it?” she murmured as she folded herself elegantly onto the corner of the couch and patted the space next to her. “Quieter.” Her smile was a mockery of seduction, but her blank stare said all the better to kill you.

“Much,” I agreed and let my shoulders relax, my breaths come easily, as I sat next to her. “Is that your way of saying you’d like to get to know me better?”

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