“Well, so, are you as powerful as Jason now?”
“No. My telekinesis is very limited, and I struggle to read the projected thoughts of a stronger vampire, like Mike, but I’m sure, with time, that will change.”
My mouth dropped. I hadn’t expected him to tell me he could do that. “You can read anyone’s projected thoughts?”
His secret smile slipped across his lips. “Like you didn’t already know.”
I sipped my coffee as a distraction, swallowing before saying, “Okay. Maybe I was a little suspicious.”
He exhaled. “Why didn’t you just ask me about it then?”
My lips stopped short of their next sip. “I. . .”
“Let me guess,” David said, sliding his arm between my neck and the pillow, cuddling me close. “You didn’t even think of it.”
“It’s not that, David.” I sipped the coffee again. “It’s more like I just figured you’d lie to me, or. . .”
“Or?”
“Or ask me why I was curious.”
His spine straightened a little. I was sure he already knew how my curiosities came about—by talking with Jason—but he didn’t want to hear me say it.
“Can. . .” And here was something I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but kind of needed to. “Can you read unfiltered thoughts yet?”
“On demand, do you mean?”
“Yeah. I . . . I know you could do it randomly for a few days after the coronation, but, has that changed?”
The birds outside sang a song to fill the silence, and the gentle breeze moved the still air. David took a slow breath, his eyes switching from thought to humour and back again. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes. I can read unguarded, un-projected thoughts again, but—” he said, but ended it there.
“But?”
“But . . . not always, and . . . it’s only yours so far.”
“Mine?” I sat up a little more, balancing the cup in hand so as not to spill the contents. “Why only mine? Am I weak?”
“Is Emily weak?” He grinned. “I can read hers.”
Hmpf. I turned my head quickly and sipped my coffee, focusing on the liquid.
He just laughed. “I love your jealousy.”
I half smiled into my cup. I knew what he meant, because I loved his jealousy too—the way any mention of Jason made his blood change temperature. “Can you read Jason’s mind?”
He cleared his throat, sitting back a little. “No.”
“Can he still read yours?”
The conversation had clearly gone sour. “Yes.”
My smile widened. “I love your jealousy.”
“I, My Queen, do not need to be jealous of my brother.” He took my cup and pushed me gently backward on the bed, a playful grin sweeping the anger from his eyes. “I have you. I married you, and I will never need to play against him for your heart.”
I touched his face, looking from his lips to his eyes. So many words came to my tongue, ready to roll off, tell him how right he was, but that sinking feeling—the one like I’d forgotten a child in the car on a hot day at a supermarket—roiled up inside me. My eyes became smaller, focusing on it. I’d forgotten something. I just knew it. And whatever it was, I needed to remember, because whatever it was, I was sure now, had something to do with Jase.
“Where do you go?” he said with wonder, his eyes searching my face. “I wish I could read your mind as easily as I used to. I miss knowing everything you're wondering and dreaming.”
I let my legs fall softly apart as his weight came down to rest between them. “I miss it, too. Miss everything about being human.”
“Really?” He looked at my lips, his lovely dimple pressing into his cheek. “Because I can think of one thing you don't miss.”
“What’s that?”
“This.” He rolled the tip of his thumb past his index finger, tearing it open, and wiped the warm, sweet liquid across my lips.
My tongue moved involuntarily, stealing the blood for itself, sending it down to the back of my throat. And that was it. I had to have more.
David laughed as I rolled up and flipped him onto his back, landing on his hips like a cowgirl. “You’re right. I miss being human. I miss the sweetness, the, I don't know, the innocence of our love back then, but I like this much better,” I said, driving my pelvis down hard on his…zipper. “And you do realise I'm so hungry right now I could drain you dry?”
“Go ahead, succubus.” He grinned. “And I’ll flip you over after and take it all back.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
I squealed, suddenly moving through the air, landing on my back with the pillows rising up around my ears, and David's jeans scraping roughly against my bare upper thighs. “It’s a promise.”
“Then, in that case—” I thumbed a button undone on his shirt and traced my finger down his flesh from his throat to his sternum. “Come closer so I can bite you.”
Chapter Three
I came over the hill, the midday sun bright and yellow above me, glaring in my eyes enough that as I set my gaze down on the basketball court, I could swear I saw Mike holding a child up to the hoop.
“Mike.”
He bent down, then tossed his hand in the air, waving it once. “Hey, Ara.”
“Hey, what you do—”
“This is Will,” he cut in, presenting a small, blond-haired boy. “He’s new.”
I stopped dead halfway down the hill. “Yes, we met yesterday.”
Mike smiled at the kid. “I’ll just walk ‘im back inside. Two secs, ‘kay?”
“Sure,” I said chirpily, but my bones wouldn’t move. Who on Earth authorised him to take the Damned outside? I mean, what if Will tried to escape? He could end up in all kinds of terrible places.
Mike walked the boy back toward the house, his hand on his shoulder, both of them talking animatedly, like they were best buddies. I almost didn’t recognise my ‘mature’ best friend and Chief of Security anymore. He even dressed differently when he came to see the Dammed—always in jeans and a light coloured T-shirt, usually wearing a baseball cap, too. And I kinda liked him this way. He was Fun Mike. Guy-I-grew-up-with Mike.
I reached the base of the hill as Mike broke into a light jog back in my direction, bending to scoop the basketball off the ground as he approached. “Hey, baby.”
“Hey. Letting the Damned out now, huh?”
He smirked at the quaver in my voice. “Yeah. Who'd have thought blood-hungry kids could get a release of energy from playing outdoors?”
“And . . . who, exactly, approved this?”
“David.” He stood taller, clearly ready for a challenge. “But not without supervision, and only one at a time.”
“But—”
“But nothing, Ara. Those kids,” he pointed to the house, “for the most part, are normal. You can’t keep them locked away for the rest of their lives—”
“But, I’m the one who—”
“Even if the conditions are pleasant,” he finished. “You don’t have to agree, Ara, but you—”
“Mike.” I put my hands up. “I agree, okay. I was just. . .”
He smiled sheepishly. “Surprised.”
“Yeah. I didn’t mean to start an argument. I think it’s great they’re going outside.” I glanced over at the house to see all the little faces watching Mike and I through the window. “It’s just that no one told me.”
“Didn’t David?” Mike jumped up to dunk the ball in the hoop.
“Nope.” I strolled over and caught it on the rebound. “He told me we had a new group, and mentioned something about education, but—”
“Did he tell you we decided not to feed them Pure Blood?”
I frowned, searching my brain for that conversation, but it’d never happened. “No. Why’s that?”
“For one, they’ve all been rejecting it, and—”
“I know that. But, we were just gonna keep trying in the hopes—”
“It isn’t enough for them, Ar. Think of them as concentrated versions of vampires—they need more blood than an adult.” He stole the ball from my hands. “Kind of like when vampires get hurt and need human blood because ours isn’t strong enough then, either.”
“And, what were the other reasons you decided against giving them our blood?”
“We don’t want them immune to Pure Blood venom.” He threw the ball into the hoop, ignoring my sudden gasp. “We left it that way in case you never find a cure for vampirism.”
“So, you're just going to kill them if I can’t change them back?”
Mike took a deep breath. “We may have no choice. They can’t stay that way for eternity.”
“Mike! That’s horrible.”
“I know. But it won’t come to that. Besides,” he said, dribbling the ball, “we’re also leaving things open in case one of them wants to die.”
“You're giving them the option?”
“Yes.”
“They're children, they can’t make that kind of choice.”
“Ara, those kids are older than you.”
“Not in human years.” I stole the ball.
“Yes, but they mature with experience and age, just like we do.” He reached across and snatched it from my hands, throwing me a vehement glare with just a hint of a smile underneath. “Their minds aren’t locked in childhood at all, like vampires first thought. And—”
“I know,” I cut in. “I’ve seen them learn, show reason, integrity, wisdom, even. But I don’t like the idea of giving them the option of suicide.”
“Freedom, you mean.” He turned away and threw the ball toward the hoop.
“Huh?”
“Freedom. It’s not the option of suicide, Ara. It’s the freedom to choose an immortal life or a peaceful death.”
I studied him carefully for a second before he broke the stare and wandered over to grab the ball from across the court. He was serious about this stuff. I’d never seen him get so . . . red in the face, over any topic. “Why does it matter to you so much, Mike—whether they live or die?”
“It’s not that.” He tossed the ball to me; I caught it. “It’s . . . I don’t know.”
I hid my smile with the turn of my back, and aimed the orange ball to the sky, throwing it but missing my target. “You come here every day, don't you?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Oh, no reason.” I folded my arms, squinting up at him. “One might just think you were starting to like those kids.”
“No. My telekinesis is very limited, and I struggle to read the projected thoughts of a stronger vampire, like Mike, but I’m sure, with time, that will change.”
My mouth dropped. I hadn’t expected him to tell me he could do that. “You can read anyone’s projected thoughts?”
His secret smile slipped across his lips. “Like you didn’t already know.”
I sipped my coffee as a distraction, swallowing before saying, “Okay. Maybe I was a little suspicious.”
He exhaled. “Why didn’t you just ask me about it then?”
My lips stopped short of their next sip. “I. . .”
“Let me guess,” David said, sliding his arm between my neck and the pillow, cuddling me close. “You didn’t even think of it.”
“It’s not that, David.” I sipped the coffee again. “It’s more like I just figured you’d lie to me, or. . .”
“Or?”
“Or ask me why I was curious.”
His spine straightened a little. I was sure he already knew how my curiosities came about—by talking with Jason—but he didn’t want to hear me say it.
“Can. . .” And here was something I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but kind of needed to. “Can you read unfiltered thoughts yet?”
“On demand, do you mean?”
“Yeah. I . . . I know you could do it randomly for a few days after the coronation, but, has that changed?”
The birds outside sang a song to fill the silence, and the gentle breeze moved the still air. David took a slow breath, his eyes switching from thought to humour and back again. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes. I can read unguarded, un-projected thoughts again, but—” he said, but ended it there.
“But?”
“But . . . not always, and . . . it’s only yours so far.”
“Mine?” I sat up a little more, balancing the cup in hand so as not to spill the contents. “Why only mine? Am I weak?”
“Is Emily weak?” He grinned. “I can read hers.”
Hmpf. I turned my head quickly and sipped my coffee, focusing on the liquid.
He just laughed. “I love your jealousy.”
I half smiled into my cup. I knew what he meant, because I loved his jealousy too—the way any mention of Jason made his blood change temperature. “Can you read Jason’s mind?”
He cleared his throat, sitting back a little. “No.”
“Can he still read yours?”
The conversation had clearly gone sour. “Yes.”
My smile widened. “I love your jealousy.”
“I, My Queen, do not need to be jealous of my brother.” He took my cup and pushed me gently backward on the bed, a playful grin sweeping the anger from his eyes. “I have you. I married you, and I will never need to play against him for your heart.”
I touched his face, looking from his lips to his eyes. So many words came to my tongue, ready to roll off, tell him how right he was, but that sinking feeling—the one like I’d forgotten a child in the car on a hot day at a supermarket—roiled up inside me. My eyes became smaller, focusing on it. I’d forgotten something. I just knew it. And whatever it was, I needed to remember, because whatever it was, I was sure now, had something to do with Jase.
“Where do you go?” he said with wonder, his eyes searching my face. “I wish I could read your mind as easily as I used to. I miss knowing everything you're wondering and dreaming.”
I let my legs fall softly apart as his weight came down to rest between them. “I miss it, too. Miss everything about being human.”
“Really?” He looked at my lips, his lovely dimple pressing into his cheek. “Because I can think of one thing you don't miss.”
“What’s that?”
“This.” He rolled the tip of his thumb past his index finger, tearing it open, and wiped the warm, sweet liquid across my lips.
My tongue moved involuntarily, stealing the blood for itself, sending it down to the back of my throat. And that was it. I had to have more.
David laughed as I rolled up and flipped him onto his back, landing on his hips like a cowgirl. “You’re right. I miss being human. I miss the sweetness, the, I don't know, the innocence of our love back then, but I like this much better,” I said, driving my pelvis down hard on his…zipper. “And you do realise I'm so hungry right now I could drain you dry?”
“Go ahead, succubus.” He grinned. “And I’ll flip you over after and take it all back.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
I squealed, suddenly moving through the air, landing on my back with the pillows rising up around my ears, and David's jeans scraping roughly against my bare upper thighs. “It’s a promise.”
“Then, in that case—” I thumbed a button undone on his shirt and traced my finger down his flesh from his throat to his sternum. “Come closer so I can bite you.”
Chapter Three
I came over the hill, the midday sun bright and yellow above me, glaring in my eyes enough that as I set my gaze down on the basketball court, I could swear I saw Mike holding a child up to the hoop.
“Mike.”
He bent down, then tossed his hand in the air, waving it once. “Hey, Ara.”
“Hey, what you do—”
“This is Will,” he cut in, presenting a small, blond-haired boy. “He’s new.”
I stopped dead halfway down the hill. “Yes, we met yesterday.”
Mike smiled at the kid. “I’ll just walk ‘im back inside. Two secs, ‘kay?”
“Sure,” I said chirpily, but my bones wouldn’t move. Who on Earth authorised him to take the Damned outside? I mean, what if Will tried to escape? He could end up in all kinds of terrible places.
Mike walked the boy back toward the house, his hand on his shoulder, both of them talking animatedly, like they were best buddies. I almost didn’t recognise my ‘mature’ best friend and Chief of Security anymore. He even dressed differently when he came to see the Dammed—always in jeans and a light coloured T-shirt, usually wearing a baseball cap, too. And I kinda liked him this way. He was Fun Mike. Guy-I-grew-up-with Mike.
I reached the base of the hill as Mike broke into a light jog back in my direction, bending to scoop the basketball off the ground as he approached. “Hey, baby.”
“Hey. Letting the Damned out now, huh?”
He smirked at the quaver in my voice. “Yeah. Who'd have thought blood-hungry kids could get a release of energy from playing outdoors?”
“And . . . who, exactly, approved this?”
“David.” He stood taller, clearly ready for a challenge. “But not without supervision, and only one at a time.”
“But—”
“But nothing, Ara. Those kids,” he pointed to the house, “for the most part, are normal. You can’t keep them locked away for the rest of their lives—”
“But, I’m the one who—”
“Even if the conditions are pleasant,” he finished. “You don’t have to agree, Ara, but you—”
“Mike.” I put my hands up. “I agree, okay. I was just. . .”
He smiled sheepishly. “Surprised.”
“Yeah. I didn’t mean to start an argument. I think it’s great they’re going outside.” I glanced over at the house to see all the little faces watching Mike and I through the window. “It’s just that no one told me.”
“Didn’t David?” Mike jumped up to dunk the ball in the hoop.
“Nope.” I strolled over and caught it on the rebound. “He told me we had a new group, and mentioned something about education, but—”
“Did he tell you we decided not to feed them Pure Blood?”
I frowned, searching my brain for that conversation, but it’d never happened. “No. Why’s that?”
“For one, they’ve all been rejecting it, and—”
“I know that. But, we were just gonna keep trying in the hopes—”
“It isn’t enough for them, Ar. Think of them as concentrated versions of vampires—they need more blood than an adult.” He stole the ball from my hands. “Kind of like when vampires get hurt and need human blood because ours isn’t strong enough then, either.”
“And, what were the other reasons you decided against giving them our blood?”
“We don’t want them immune to Pure Blood venom.” He threw the ball into the hoop, ignoring my sudden gasp. “We left it that way in case you never find a cure for vampirism.”
“So, you're just going to kill them if I can’t change them back?”
Mike took a deep breath. “We may have no choice. They can’t stay that way for eternity.”
“Mike! That’s horrible.”
“I know. But it won’t come to that. Besides,” he said, dribbling the ball, “we’re also leaving things open in case one of them wants to die.”
“You're giving them the option?”
“Yes.”
“They're children, they can’t make that kind of choice.”
“Ara, those kids are older than you.”
“Not in human years.” I stole the ball.
“Yes, but they mature with experience and age, just like we do.” He reached across and snatched it from my hands, throwing me a vehement glare with just a hint of a smile underneath. “Their minds aren’t locked in childhood at all, like vampires first thought. And—”
“I know,” I cut in. “I’ve seen them learn, show reason, integrity, wisdom, even. But I don’t like the idea of giving them the option of suicide.”
“Freedom, you mean.” He turned away and threw the ball toward the hoop.
“Huh?”
“Freedom. It’s not the option of suicide, Ara. It’s the freedom to choose an immortal life or a peaceful death.”
I studied him carefully for a second before he broke the stare and wandered over to grab the ball from across the court. He was serious about this stuff. I’d never seen him get so . . . red in the face, over any topic. “Why does it matter to you so much, Mike—whether they live or die?”
“It’s not that.” He tossed the ball to me; I caught it. “It’s . . . I don’t know.”
I hid my smile with the turn of my back, and aimed the orange ball to the sky, throwing it but missing my target. “You come here every day, don't you?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Oh, no reason.” I folded my arms, squinting up at him. “One might just think you were starting to like those kids.”
