Passion Bites: Biting Love, Book 9 (23 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Adelaide.
I stayed very still and listened with everything I had, everything I was.

“It was just after the turn of the century.” He swallowed hard.

“2001?”

He almost smiled. “
Eighteenth
century. Seventeen…something. I want to say 1711. Logan and I had reached our hundredth anniversary.”

When he went silent again, I prompted, “Is that a big deal?”

“It’s when the ability to mist develops. I wasn’t able to mist reliably, but Logan could. That’s why, when we decided to set up a household, he was the master.”

“You have to be able to mist to be master of a household?”

“You have to be able to defend your household. Misting is a huge advantage in doing that. The ability is haphazard in the first few years, but we both thought Logan was ready. Besides, my fiancée was insisting.”

“Adelaide.”

“Yes. She wanted to settle down, and before blood banks, since we had to drink directly from humans…well, the only way to stay in one place without risking humans discovering what we were, was householding.”

I’d seen enough of Twyla after she’d moved into Julian’s townhouses to understand that householding was when a vampire master traded blood donations for protection. Kind of like a vampire version of a feudal lord.

I said, “What about compulsion?”

“The human mind is tricky. Not everyone hypnotizes, and even those who do might recall something at any time, or put together repeated episodes of dizziness. A household decreases that risk.”

“Because the donors are in on the secret?”

“And because they have a vested interest in it. Logan and I thought it all out very carefully, rationally. The folly of youth. We weren’t even smart enough to know how much we didn’t know.” He sighed. “So dangerously ignorant.”

My body chilled. “What happened?”

He rubbed a comforting palm on my back. With his other hand he tucked my head back into his shoulder. “We bought the house—our cover up until then was as merchants, and we’d become quite rich—and recruited the dozen humans. Adelaide and I married in time to move in as man and wife. We were blissfully happy. But while a household decreases the risk for the vampires, if the master is as young and foolish as we were, well, it increases the risk for the humans.”

“Why?”

“Because they expected us to keep them completely safe.”

“From
everything?
”

“Well, yes.” He seemed surprised that I’d even ask the question. “Especially Adelaide.”

“But no one can do that. Even a parent can’t keep a child completely safe—otherwise kids wouldn’t need ERs.”

“Try to understand.
We
brought those humans together. Made them trust vampires.
We
made targets of them.”

I did try, but the attitude made no sense to me. So I only asked, “Rogues attacked?”

“Yes. Five of them. Logan and I were strong, young…” He gave a regretful laugh. “So young we didn’t even know our youth was a bad thing. Two of the attackers were also fledglings. We beat them easily, beheading them—so damned proud we knew to do that. We’d gone it alone, you see. Held ourselves away from the rabble of common vampires, holding ourselves to a higher standard. That was good, because we never killed a human. But it was very bad because we never benefited from the wisdom of an older maker.”

He heaved a breath and looked away; I could tell he was coming to the crux.

“I was fighting the third rogue and Logan the fourth, stronger but still no match for my brother. He grabbed him in a headlock. We’d nearly won. I dispatched mine and Logan was almost done with his. Only one more after that.

“But while Logan was slowly twisting the vampire’s neck, the fifth rogue slashed his ribs—then misted into the house. Logan tried to mist after him…but…”

I held him and let him find the words.

“We thought for centuries his ability had failed him under stress. We found out later the slash was a weapon with static electricity. Electricity interferes with the ability to mist. At the time…well, when I saw
Logan
fail, I didn’t even think to try misting.”

His tone was hard; he blamed himself.

“Luke, you’re not a superman.”

“I’m a damned vampire,” he snarled. “I
should
be.”

“Uh…” Even I knew the worst thing a person could do was hold himself up to impossible standards—it’s an automatic fail. That’s what the word
impossible
means. “Actually, I’m more of a Batman gal, myself.”

A moment, and then he chuffed a soft laugh and the tension in his big body eased. “You’re right, the deck was stacked against us, though we didn’t know it then. We ran like the wind after the vampire, slamming in through the front door. But mist…mist is almost instantaneous.” He paused.

I raised my head. He stared off into the distance, and I knew he was seeing that day.

“Luke, you don’t have to say any more.”

He managed a dry swallow. “There’s not much left. We were too late. The rogue had opened my wife’s carotid. What he didn’t drink bled out. And now that I know Luther had her targeted because of
me…
”

I petted a hand along his head, my silent sympathy and support.

He heaved a breath. “The rest of the household cowered together in the corner of the room—men, women and children. We’d taught them that, when rogues attack, come to the dining room and stay together, so we could protect them. So smart. So fucking young.

“Logan engaged the rogue, but the vampire was old. Much stronger and faster than any we’d ever met. And he used mist to fight. Disappeared, reappeared behind my brother. Slashed him open before misting out again. I joined in the fight but we’d already lost and I knew it. We were dead, and from the despair on our humans’ faces, they knew it too.”

“Oh no…” A dozen adults, who knew how many children. My heart went out to them. “That’s terrible.”

“It would have been, but an ancient heard the fighting and came to our rescue. The instant he misted in, the rogue misted out. I…I rushed over to try to revive my wife…but I didn’t know about blood healing then, and besides, it was already too late. I thought maybe she might make the change…the rogue had bitten her, and Logan and I shared our blood with her…but she didn’t.”

“What about the ancient? Couldn’t he have made her like you?”

“Ancients only share blood on the rarest occasions. Besides, really old blood is dangerous. Unless you have centuries to learn how to control it, it can drive you insane.”

We lay together in silence for a moment. Then I said, “Thank you for telling me. I know that wasn’t easy.” I kissed him as sweetly as I knew.

Then I straightened and looked him directly in the eye, so he’d be able to see the truth in my face.

“But I’m nothing like Adelaide. I’m not a member of your household, if you even have one. You have no responsibility for me.”

“But I…I have feelings for you. You matter. If I could offer you marriage…but I can’t. Besides, you deserve so much more. A mate. A
family.
I can’t give those to you.”

“Hey.” I laughed mildly. “I’m thirty-nine. Menopause is years off.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean I can’t father children.”

“Sure you can.” I searched his face, so serious. “Vampires can reproduce. Elena has children. Nixie. My sister is pregnant a second time.”

He shook his head. “Vampires only have one mate, and they only have children with that mate. Mine was Adelaide. One and only, Alexis.”

My heart broke—for him, for myself. I’d always wanted a family, and from the yearning in his voice, he did too.

But sometimes we have to make sacrifices for those we lov…those we were insanely attracted to. “But what if I didn’t want…didn’t expect mating or children? Couldn’t we just be together?”

Hope lit his eyes for a moment. Then he slumped. “No. Even for you, especially
with
you, I can’t.”

Something fell in me too. “Why not?”

“I loved Adelaide…love her. But when you and I have sex…” His voice dropped to less than a whisper, more of a guilty breath. “I forget her.”

My heart leaped.
I made him forget her.

I almost pushed it. Almost said, “It’s okay” or “That’s natural” or “It’s part of the grieving process.”

But something kept me silent.

Later, I understood those words of “comfort” would have been for me. Reassuring myself that he’d get over her or past her or whatever would make me feel less like second-hand merchandise.

Then, it was simply something inside me that said
Listen.
Listen to him.

So instead of saying something to make
me
feel better, I asked, “What do you mean?”

“I haven’t tried to put it into words before. But I guess…I guess it’s because I failed Adelaide in life. If I take a wife now, if I start a household…if I marry
you,
I’ll forget her. And I’ll not only have failed her in life, I’ll fail her in death.”

“Oh, Luke.” My throat felt thick.

I was sad for myself, sad that something beautiful between us would never get the chance to grow. Sad for the
us
that would never be.

But mostly, my heart cried for him. I wanted,
needed
to find a way to help him.

Help
him
—no matter what cost to me.

If I could only figure out a plan how.

Luke lay with Alexis and realized he felt better. Lighter. Putting the reason he hadn’t remarried all these centuries into words was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

But now that he had, he realized the truth of it, and felt strangely freed. If he’d never met Alexis, he’d never have realized the full truth.

And his heart would never be torn.

He was coming to care deeply about her. She was brave and good, a wonderful doctor, and highly empathetic, despite protesting feelings weren’t rational.

But when he was with her, he failed his wife. Again.

He sighed. “But now you can understand why I can’t help you annex your um, delivery system.” Code for poisoning Luther. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you while you’re in my care—deliberately courting trouble is out of the question.”

Actually, the idea gave him fits. Bad enough he’d failed protecting Adelaide, failed to keep Sarah Jane from being taken.

But to deliberately put Alexis in harm’s way?

He shuddered.

Slam.

The sound came from the door as a dent appeared in it, from a massive hit to the other side.

It had begun.

He sat up, gently sliding Alexis to sit next to him. He’d failed Adelaide, and she’d died. Centuries of the toughest training he could endure was to ensure that horror never happened again.

Yet it was. The minute Luther broke that door down.

Luke took stock of his situation from habit, ticking off vital facts. Maybe two quarts of thinned blood to distribute around two hundred pounds of muscle, brain and bone. If he used it for action his brain would dull; if he used it to think his reaction time would slow. Luther and at least two goons were outside. Alexis was here and Adelaide was still dead.

Ah, there it was. The contrary doctor was now first. At least until his incompetence killed her too.

Elias said what had happened to Luke’s pretty, frail wife that day in 1711 was a combination of inexperience, youth and bad luck. Luke had nodded and trained even harder.

All his training, all his centuries.

Useless.

Alexis would die because he was inadequate. Elias was wrong. Luke was older now, experienced, yet this was exactly like Adelaide, where he couldn’t save the woman he loved…

Oh God. Did he love Alexis?

His heart hiccuped. What did it matter?

Luther would break down the door. She’d die here, because Luke had proved once and for all how worthless a protector he was.

But at least he hadn’t deliberately put her in harm’s way. That was some comfort, right?

Right?

Cold, seeping through Luke’s breast, told him he was wrong. There were worse things than dying—like dying
without trying
everything.

Alexis rose and faced the door. “Okay, here’s the plan. I’ll let myself get captured. You try to escape.”

“No.”

She turned to him wearing her obstinate face. He recognized it from first seeing it in the ER, twenty-seven hours and a lifetime ago. Beautiful, caring Alexis.

“Luke, I’m going to get taken, whether you escape or not. But if you try to escape, at least one of us has a chance.”

She was right. Either she was taken and he escaped, or he fought to the death before she was taken. It seemed there was no way for Luke to be the hero, the protector in this one.

He’d never understood the modern woman’s need to be independent, didn’t understand Elena and Nixie. But he was beginning to see, with Alexis, he didn’t have to understand. Just accept.

And if he accepted, what did that mean?

The banging intensified. The door began to bend away from the frame.

Accepting…it freed him, his thinking. He hadn’t protected Adelaide—but she hadn’t protected herself either. Alexis was right, you couldn’t shield your loved ones from everything…and there it was.

That was his problem all along—he constantly thought
shield,
when his training showed him he was so much more. Had so many more options.

What if, instead of being the shield, he drew the enemy away, like honey to the fly? Or attacked in secret, like a ninja sword? Or shot an arrow from afar—or, or, or.

He knew war.
And espionage was part of it, getting inside your enemy’s flank and stabbing quick and deep.

Alexis’s plan had merit.

Although if he told her that, she’d never let him live it down. Ah, hell, he’d let her, if they survived.

So. He couldn’t shield her from all harm, but he
could
make sure she didn’t face danger alone. She might come out of this alive, but only if he had her back.

And if he didn’t let her make an overly complex plan, because no plan survived meeting the enemy.