Night Vision

Lannan was shouting.

The weight of the Blood Oracle—far heavier than I would have imagined—kept me pinned. I turned, trying to claw my way out as he struggled with Lannan, who was attempting to pull him off me. The sounds of the two vampires fighting was like a horrible battle between two lions, kings of the hill waging war over the queen.

My hands on the floor, my fingertips pressed hard against the tile, I struggled to drag myself free. Check and Grieve were running toward me, and I held up one hand to them. Grieve reached down, his fingers clutching mine. He began a steady tug, trying to ease me out, as Check slid his arms beneath mine.

I groaned as something snapped in one of my legs. Not a loud snap, but enough for me to know that a muscle or a tendon or something had ripped. A few seconds later, the pain hit in my ankle.

I gritted my teeth, trying not to scream, but at that moment, Check managed to dislodge me and I pushed away the numbing ache.

As he pulled me from beneath Crawl’s body, there was a momentary lull in the fight, and then something long and sharp with several blades ripped through my leg, tearing into the flesh.

I screamed as the blood began to fountain, the gashes burning their way into my leg. There were screams—I think from Luna—and a lot of shouting, and the next thing I knew, Crawl’s hand was off my leg.

“She’s bleeding out—look at those wounds!”

“Get her jeans off her.”

I wanted to ask where Geoffrey and Leo were. I wanted to see what was going on with Crawl. But all I could do was stare unfocused at the ceiling while someone tugged on my jeans. The pain of the material sliding over the wounds was exquisite agony, and I moaned, biting my tongue to keep from screaming again. I was fading in and out now and slowly began to feel myself sliding out of my body. I shifted. And then, as everything began to go black, I heard Lannan.

“You have no choice. She needs my blood—it will bring her back from the brink because, Princeling, if you don’t let me do this, your fiancée will die and take the queenship down the drain with her. When Crawl wounds, be it his fangs or his talons, there must be a transfusion of vampire blood. Any magic-born or yummanii bitten by the Old Master is doomed to bleed out. She’s not so far gone that it will turn her, but there’s very little time. Do you want her to live, or will you let her die?”

As his words began to sink in, so did the realization that I was dying, and that once again, Crawl was responsible.

Grieve let out an anguished cry. “Go then, do it…I know what will happen, and I accept. Just save her.”

The next moment, somebody was forcing my lips open, and then a few drops of blood began to trickle into my mouth, and it was the sweetest ambrosia I’d ever tasted. Rich and thick and familiar. I licked my lips to catch the stray beads, sucking them in. Suddenly so thirsty I wanted to scream, I opened my mouth willingly as Lannan pressed his wrist to my lips, an open cut bleeding slowly, and I suckled, taking his force into my body, feeling it cascade down my throat.

As I eagerly drew his blood into me, the pain in my leg began to subside as a warm, sinuous energy unwound from the base of my tailbone, snaking its way up my body, flushing me deep like a blush to the core.

I let out a slow moan, this time from pleasure rather than pain, as the blood raced down my throat, freeing me from the ache of my torn flesh. But then it started—the heat racing around my cunt, waking me up as it traveled up through my breasts, through the road map of veins running through my body. I sucked deeper still, the crimson river flowing through me, infusing me with health and strength and desire.

And then my eyes opened, and I was staring up into Lannan’s face, that glorious mane of golden hair falling around his shoulders as the jet black eyes watched me. No breath, no rise and fall of the chest, and I tried to remind myself that he was dead, that he was a vampire, but all I could think about was having his hands on me, having him hold me down and drive himself into me again and again until I forgot everything except those ancient, glazed-over eyes.

The very air acted like an aphrodisiac on my skin, ruffling past like a ribbon of silk, and I let out another moan as every faint whisper of wind became a tease, as every sound became amplified. My body was a live wire, sizzling like hot oil, and I reached up, grabbed hold of Lannan, and pulled him down to me, locking my lips with his.

A faint sound caught my notice, and my wolf howled, but I pushed it away. The only thing that existed at the moment was the Blood Fever, the drive to spread my legs and beckon my dark angel inside. I kissed him, deep, probing his mouth with my tongue, running it over his fangs.

Lannan stared down at me, a triumphant smirk on his face, but then he held me down, pausing, and looked up. “I’m taking her out of here. The Blood Fever is so high that she’ll die if I don’t quench it. Regina, you know what to do with Crawl. The rest of you—my men will escort you to safety. Geoffrey and Leo are still at large.”

His words registered through a fog, and I let out a faint whisper.

“Geoffrey—Leo—my cousin…Rhia?”

“Shush, my sweet Cicely. You are still weak, and you burn with Blood Fever. Save your worries for later. Your cousin is safe, and so are your friends.”

In the haze of lust, my skin was so hot it felt like I was going to burn into a crisp, burn into a cinder. I fell silent. Vague images fluttered past—Grieve, my love, but even my heart couldn’t withstand the flame racing through my veins. I thought I caught a glimpse of him, but then, in a flash, he was gone and I wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t.

The next thing I knew, we were traveling at blur-speed, and as I watched the walls rush by, I began to sweat. The Blood Fever was hitting, and hitting hard.

Blood Fever. Whenever one of the still-living drank from a vampire without being turned, the blood boiled in the system, churning through the veins like a river of passion, driving mortals into raving nutcases. The only release, the only way to calm the blood, was to fuck your brains out—to ride the drive into submission. Primal forces were unleashed with Blood Fever, filling the body, overriding logic, overriding love.

We passed into the night; somehow we were in a car—Lannan’s limousine—and he laid me back against the seat, the leather creaking as he adjusted me beneath him. The smell was old, and moneyed, and I wondered how many times Lannan had fucked someone in this car.

He held me down, pinning my wrists over my head. “Move your hurt leg to the side,” he whispered.

I slid my left leg to the side so it was off the seat, bending my knee so my foot was braced against the floor. I was sweating, the glistening beads slowly trickling down my face, dripping onto my chest. All I could think about was how close his lips were to mine, how cold his hands were against my skin, how there was no rising and falling of breath from him. He had conquered death, and I hated him. And yet…and yet…I craved the force of his body against mine.

Lannan licked my neck, trailing his tongue down toward my breasts. “Salty. You’re salty. And your breath, it comes so hard. Panting, are we? Girl, you want me. I can feel it. And this time, I want to hear you say it. Beg me, Cicely. Beg me and I’ll give you everything.”

I shifted, my back sticking to the leather. My cunt ached so bad that I thought I’d never be satiated.

“I hate you,” I whispered.

“I know. Say it anyway.” His gaze fastened onto my own, and as he stared at me through those obsidian eyes, I fell into them, deep and dark, and tumbling down. I caught my breath, my pulse racing as the sweat continued to bathe us both, a baptism of passion.

“I want you. I want you…a part of me has always wanted you.” Hating myself as I said it, but realizing it was the truth, that there was some hidden darkness within me that drove me to him, that secretly hungered for his touch. Grieve owned me, heart and soul, but chemistry was chemistry, and something in Lannan spoke to a part of me that was broken and twisted and would never be fixed.

“I wish I could drink from you tonight,” he whispered, licking my neck. “I’m hungry for your blood. I want to taste you, but for now I don’t dare. Crawl wounded you deeply, and his venom is still within your system. But I’ll give you everything you want from me right now. And more.”

And then his lips covered mine, and the world fell into a long, dark hole where there was only steam rising between us, and the feeling of his hands on my wrists, of his mouth against mine, grazing my lips with his fangs. The kiss went on and on, as I let myself flow into the abyss in which my dark vampire lived.

The lights of the city were a blur as we passed through the snowy night, and the flutter of snowflakes bathed the road in a muffled silence. And all the way to his mansion, Lannan spun me out of myself, out of my head, into the dark fire that radiated from deep within him.

As we pulled to a stop, the driver opened the car door, and without a word, Lannan lifted me in his arms. I barely sensed the maid who opened the door, the dim lights of the sparkling chandelier, the scent of opium and incense that wafted out from the party room where Lannan and Regina played with their bloodwhores.

And then we were in what I thought was Lannan’s bedroom, the crimson walls reflecting the light from the Tiffany lamp in the corner. A sudden fear caught hold of me and I whimpered, but he shushed me and I fell silent, totally in thrall. My body was burning, and I began to phase in and out.

Flash…a glimpse of the Golden Boy, laying me out on the bed. Flash…the ceiling fan overhead spinning far too slowly, like slow thunder. Flash…the shedding of clothes, and I was naked and felt like I could finally breathe. Flash…I glanced down, a glimpse of the scars on the torn and rent flesh that Crawl had so lovingly given me. Flash…Lannan, standing there, tall against the silhouette of the light, and he was nude, his skin an unearthly alabaster. Flash…and he began walking toward me as I understood this was real. It was going to happen. And there was nothing in the world that would stop us this time.

He was on me, then, looming over me as I pressed against the burgundy velvet of the bedspread. I began to breathe heavily.

“How do you want it, baby? How do you want me?” Lannan’s victorious grin made me angry, and yet…and yet…

“If this is going to happen, don’t make it sweet. I won’t take sweet from you. If you’re going to fuck me, then make it rough, because it will never happen again, and I want to remember you for the bloodsucker you are.” Unsure where my words had come from, I suddenly felt stronger. “I want more of your blood. Give it to me.”

He blinked, for the first time looking unsure. But then he laughed and lifted his arm. With the precisely shaped nail of his index finger on his right hand, he sliced through the flesh, and as I watched, the blood burbled up, slow and thick, viscous like honey. I eyed it hungrily, the fever driving me on. And from somewhere deep inside, as I reached for his wrist, I flashed…

The man was pretty. He was pretty and he was alone and he was in the forest, gathering firewood. I stared from behind the huckleberry bush, my thirst rising. The pale blue of my skin mirrored the layer of ice on the lake nearby, and as long as I kept to the snow, I blended in fairly well. My eyes, dark and filled with stars, had adjusted to the light of day.

I preferred to hunt during the night, but the bloodlust had driven me out of the Barrow, and I needed a quarry. I needed blood and sinew and flesh. But first…Yes, the man was very tasty, with long dark hair and deeply tanned skin. He was clad in leather and he was kneeling, examining something near the base of a tree.

I slipped out from behind the bush…clad only in a gossamer gown like my mother, Myst, Queen of the Indigo Court. Walking barefoot atop the snow, I left no tracks, made no sound. The animals of the forest had backed away; they knew I was near and that I was on the prowl. But the pretty man had no idea who was coming for him, and that was as it should be.

I slowly sauntered up behind him, until I cast a shadow over his shoulder in the fading afternoon. He turned, the lovely man, and his startled look turned to fear as I smiled, my razor-sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light. I cocked my head, turning it this way, turning it that, examining him.

He stood, the wood he’d gathered scattering as he stumbled back. He said something—I didn’t understand what, nor did I care—and then turned to run. I decided to give him a head start. It was more fun that way.

I waited a beat, then another. And then, just when he thought he’d escaped, I started to run. I ran in a blur. I ran in a flash. I ran on the wind and through snow and with a laughter that trailed two steps behind me.

It took him a moment to realize I was coming for him, and when he did, he screamed, falling by the side of the lake. He glanced at it, as though he might crash through the ice rather than face me.

“Can’t have that, pretty boy. We haven’t played our games yet.” I knew he couldn’t understand me, not my words, but he saw the razor’s smile in my eyes and let out a strangled cry.

It was too late.

I caught him by the hair, yanking his head back. Instinct urged me to attack, to shed his blood, to gnaw his bones, to rip at the sinew and flesh, but I was hungry in more ways than one. I dragged him away from the lake and ripped off his clothes. He wasn’t anywhere near my strength, and when he put up a fight, I grabbed one of his arms and squeezed it, breaking the bones. He screamed again, this time from pain rather than fear.

“Kiss, kiss,” I said, leaning in to press my lips against his. Nobody resisted Cherish, the daughter of Myst. And truth being, the minute my lips were on his, he stopped fighting. The venom in my kiss had him snared, and I climbed atop him, riding him hard, riding him rough, riding him even as my teeth nipped holes in his flesh. I bloodied his lips and then his neck, and then, as I came—hard and hungry—I lunged for his throat, shifting into my creature as I did so. I fell into the bloodlust with a fury, until there was nothing left on the ground but a few bones and the stain of glorious, delicious blood. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">