Page 30 of Saving Destiny

Avery

My ravenous hunger concerns me more than I’m willing to admit aloud. I’d assured Zosia that I didn’t need to feed often, but my body’s needs are changing. The exposure to polluted magic is only half the reason; my hunger intensified the moment she'd shifted for the first time. I realized this morning that another’s blood won't satisfy me. I need and want only hers.

Being in the same room with her amplifies my cravings, making every minute sweetly painful. After sharing dinner with her the night before, I’d tried to sleep and failed. Then, I tried to read but couldn’t concentrate. After Kodi joined Zosia in her room, assuring me of her safety, I'd fled to the roof. The view from the top of the building is magnificent, and I hope she'll join me one night.

Last night, I settled for the company of the gargoyles and the stars. The cool night air had soothed my desperation. The second I scented her this morning, though, hunger crashed over me anew. I’d barely spoken a word because I'd feared that my fangs might start descending.

The sounds of the men shuffling from the room are barely audible over the increased thump of my heartbeat. Garrett grips my shoulder as he passes. It might be considered a threat, but his aura betrays his true emotions. He might appear only jealous and possessive, but he’s also scared. He's an alpha shifter who is allowing a vampire to bite his mate. The two races rarely mingle. A vampire’s bite can easily kill a shifter. In most cases, it makes the shifter sick. Our magics oppose each other.

If Garrett permitted his beast to rule, I would have been challenged already. Alpha shifters don’t share their mates; some don’t even allow their partners to converse with the opposite sex. I nod to the alpha, but I’m uncertain what he'll see in my expression. My body remains tense even after the three guardians exit our apartments.

“I must apologize,” I begin hesitantly once we're alone.

“Why?” Zosia demands. Her tone is emotionless, but a thread of anxiety weaves through her bright golden energy.

Her magic has fully recovered from yesterday’s efforts, and feeding from her shouldn't cause her harm. She’s not a typical shifter nor a magicless human, so the usual warnings don’t apply. For the first time since my cursed birth, however, I fear I won't be able to control myself.

I consider moving toward her, but she’s already standing. The wooden, wheeled chairs shift as she maneuvers herself into a seat next to mine. Almost all of the library's furnishings are constructed from a similar type of timber. The wood retains more residual energy than most. I assume the trees that supplied their support to the building are special in some way, but I don’t know how. The metal of Zosia’s crutches shouldn't be visible, but they’ve absorbed an echo of her essence. I’ve never encountered anything like it, and I believe that the characteristic is special to her alone.

My nostrils flare and my gums ache as she nears. My fangs are desperate for full release. I clasp my hands in my lap with extreme diligence as I restrain the overwhelming urge to reach for her. At the same time, my brain attempts to form an answer to her question. My thoughts are unusually clouded.

“I've never experienced such profound need or hunger. I can't explain it." I inhale deeply, unable to keep anything hidden from her. Perhaps my strange genetics have latched onto her as a fated mate because my appetite is as irrational as Garrett's possessive claim. “I must also confess that my cravings are extremely specific. I fear that Bren or another form of sustenance won't suffice this time.” I speak slowly and evenly in the hopes that my tone conveys my displeasure with the development. “That is why I feel the need to apologize. I never intended to lay such a heavy burden upon you.”

When her slim fingers curl around my fists, desire overtakes every atom of my being. My muscles tense with the urge to leap forward and bury myself within her – in more ways than one. Feeding was never so inextricably entwined with my sexual desires before I met this amazing woman. I’d often combined the two at my partners' requests, but I will only do as she asks.

Her energy surrounds me and almost consumes mine as the golden shimmer of her magic begins to thrum with a red beat that mimics the pulse of her blood. My gums throb with pain, saliva pools in my mouth, and I experience an unfamiliar inclination to see her expression. Her aura flickers with too many emotions, and I can't determine her feelings. While I'm struggling against my baser self, she speaks.

“I’m sorry, too. Earlier, I might have made it sound like feeding you was a chore, similar to washing the dishes or sweeping the floor. I understand that it's not, and I didn’t mean to belittle your needs. Perhaps we’re even?” Her voice is shy but determined, and I thank destiny for blessing me with a thoughtful mate.

“I understand that everything is new and strange for you, though," I continue. "And you have so much to do as we prepare to open."

“And you need to eat to live, so let's stop speaking about what can't be changed,” she interrupts sternly. “You know I’ve never done this before, and I’m afraid my pop culture knowledge might have given me inadequate or inaccurate information.”

I sense that she’s twisting her lips or rolling her eyes as she speaks. Her tendency to lapse into an archaic vernacular and larger words when she’s nervous is the most adorable trait I’ve ever encountered. It might be because it mirrors my language, but I was influenced by vampires who'd been born centuries before our time. The eccentricities our race displays are often ignored because we are lethal hunters who don't take kindly to being mocked. She's obviously brilliant and well-read, but she regularly disguises her intelligence.

“You may be correct. By pop culture, I assume that you refer to the movies and novels that portray my kind? Half of them were created by the vampire community with the sole intent to fool the masses, while others were fabricated by the magicless in an attempt to make us appear weak. One movie in particular seems more popular among the magicless. It was actually a smear campaign organized by mages against wolf shifters and vampires. A disgraced vampire with no community and no assets offered to play a starring role. In his desperation, he allowed the mages to make his skin sparkle.” My lips twist with disgust as I recall the uproar and arguments caused by the entertainment. The books that spurred the movies had been officially banned in the vampire community, but a mage with an axe to grind acquired the rights and transformed the texts into the unspeakable.

“I do not sparkle,” I add with a disgruntled sniff.

Zosia snorts, and I find the normally rude noise adorable. “Maybe not, but if they’d cast you as the main vampire, the movies would have earned more money. Humans and supernaturals alike would have flocked to the theaters just to see you.” While I’m still glowing under her praise, she continues. “I tried to watch the first one but couldn't stomach it, to be honest. The writing was atrocious, so I never read the books either. The pop culture I'm referring to is Bram Stoker’sDraculaor any of Anne Rice's novels.”

The conversation helps settle my nerves, and her nearness makes the hunger tolerable at least. The realization makes me question whether I can gain sustenance from her aura, but I resolve to explore the idea at a different time. “Ah,” I murmur in reply. “Both of the authors you just named published without the approval of the OSC or the League of Elder Vampires. By the way, the latter refuse to stoop to using acronyms; they say they are too important. But I digress." I shake my head to get back on topic.

"Although those examples were intended to be theatrical, they are loosely based on reality. Of course, I refer only to the written works and not the movies that followed. Moving picture producers adore glorifying blood, but no vampire worth their fangs would waste precious drops of blood or possess such slovenly manners. The idea of sleeping in a coffin is also ridiculous. Blackout drapes were invented over twenty years ago with input from the vampire community, but thick velvet permitted adequate darkness prior to the current alternative. Very sensitive vampires maintain their sleeping chambers underground or in windowless rooms. In ancient times, vampires might have perpetuated the rumor of sleeping in dungeons, but not many accounts exist from the time when my kind were considered monsters instead of citizens.”

Her deep inhalation indicates she’s considering her words before speaking. “And yet you and Walthers walk in the sun.” The tremble in her hands is so slight that I doubt she notices it. I squeeze them to comfort her and grit my teeth against the heightened awareness of her pulse.

“Don’t repress your curiosity or speech for my benefit, Zosia. It’s necessary if we are to trust each other.” I wait for her aura to waver – the subtle indication of a nod before responding to her unasked question. “Walthers is a true abomination.” My hatred of the man and his corrupt magic seeps into my words despite my inclination to be objective. “I am convinced that an enchantment enables him to walk in the sun, and I'm doubtful he could bear full sunlight. His dual nature is concerning, but I don’t believe either is particularly strong. He reeks of corrupt, diseased magic. That is what strengthens him. I assure you that he's not an accurate representation of either mages or vampires."

“As for me …,” I trail off as I consider my words. I’d told her that truth is crucial, and I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t adhere to my own advice. “I was barely able to walk when someone shoved me out of darkness and into sunlight. Although I don’t know who was behind that experiment, I believe they fully anticipated my death. My ability to day-walk was probably one of the reasons I was kept alive after the discovery.”

Her hands tighten in mine as she leans closer. It's just a fraction of an inch, but my entire being delights in the decreased distance. “That sounds horrifying. You must have felt so alone because of your differences.”

My heart skips a beat, and my chest aches with the display of sweet compassion. Her consideration of my emotions when I’m about to feast on her blood speaks volumes about her character ... or naïveté. I'd like to believe the first.

“You know as well as I do that the past can’t be changed. Furthermore, every moment I've experienced has led me to this one. Perhaps I endured what was necessary for the chance to be here with you.” I pause to let my words sink in before I continue.

“My childhood resembles yours, but you suffered more misfortune. I’ve been told the marks still exist upon my skin, although they are less noticeable than yours.” I shift purposefully in my chair, feeling the ridges of my raised scars against the wooden spindles. My blindness has saved me from seeing the pity upon my lovers' faces when they see my scars. I know Zosia won't pity me, though, and I will grant her the same consideration.

---