The Amulet (6 page)

"It's perfect!" she sighed, walking further into the room. There was a guilded mirror hanging on the far wall that showed her reflection, just as Nevar had promised. She had not paid much attention to her appearance after Nevar had bitten her, only a quick glance as she checked over her wardrobe.

Now, though, she inspected herself thoroughly from her long black hair, gleaming with tints of gold from the fire, to her uninjured neck, and her long, lean body. She didn't look pale or sickly. She thought her muscle tone was more defined, but it was subtle. Of course, she had been beautiful before, but now, she would no longer need her photos airbrushed or even need make-up. Such measures would only tarnish her looks. It took her breath away. "I'm so beautiful," she said, feeling foolish for saying it.

"You always were," he whispered to her. "It has only enhanced what was already there."

"What if I had been ugly? Does it only improve your looks? Or can it go the opposite way as well?"

"The allure is part and parcel with becoming a vampire. It makes our prey come to us, so to speak. Although, I have heard rumors of vampires so hideous that people literally were frozen in fear, but, I can't prove or deny that it is true."

He touched her shoulder with his hand and she turned from the mirror to look at him. His eyes reflected the fire and outmatched it for heat and intensity. If she wasn't careful, this man would consume her.

"You must be tired," he told her, his voice was husky and quiet. "You can sleep in here." He led her to a room almost the size of the living area. Everything was decorated in rich reds and gold. The canopy bed was draped in thick red curtains and it looked even bigger than the one in the guest room. She was tired, she realized, more tired than she had realized. Holding her shields in place required too much energy, she assumed. Without bothering to undress, she put Zukko down on the floor and sat down on the massive bed long enough to take off her shoes before laying down.

Nevar walked over to the bed and stood over her. "I can find something more comfortable for you to wear if you like," he said, his expression almost looked as if she'd offended him. "If privacy is a concern, I promise you shall have the room to yourself."

"Oh no, it wasn't that," she told him. "I was just so tired. I wasn't even thinking about any of that. If you've got something for me to wear, I'll be happy to change."

He nodded and walked to an old antique dresser in the corner and opened one of the doors. He pulled out a deep burgundy silk dress shirt and closed the door. He handed it to her gently, then politely left the room.

Her walls were still in place. She checked them absent-mindedly. He still seemed offended by something, but she couldn't place what it was. She unfolded the shirt he had handed her and realized it would almost cover her knees. It looked very comfortable, indeed.

She changed quickly, removing her slacks first and then moving to her shirt. The dragon glinted against her skin, its eyes glittering softly in the light. It made her nervous; like it was watching her. She passed over her shirt to remove the necklace first. The dragon screamed at her to stop, but her shields were up and its cries meant little to her. She put it aside on the table by the bed, facing towards the cool wood surface. Then, she felt at ease to finish undressing and she buttoned Nevar's shirt up over her breasts, leaving just the top button open.

I wonder if Nevar heard the dragon, too. Maybe that's why he seemed upset and offended? Perhaps it wasn't me at all he was reacting to?

"Nevar? May I speak with you?" She didn't raise her volume; she knew wherever he was, he could hear her.

He stepped back into the room a minute later, but lingered near the doorway, not bothering to close the distance between them entirely. "Yes, milady?"

She pointed to the dragon medallion on the table. "I think that thing is dangerous," she said. "It's been whispering into my mind even through my shields, and I think it may have been doing the same to you."

Realization dawned on his face and she saw his brow knit with determination. "Alyssa," he started, but didn't finish his thought. He didn't need to. His tone told her everything she needed to know. It was almost a whisper, the way he said her name, like a secret. He wanted her for his own, his secret, and here she was, in his bed. His veins swelled with desire, had his heart been beating still, it would have assumed its deep quickened rhythm in anticipation.

He crossed the room to her, not too quickly. He must show reserve or risk scaring her away. He could not have that. She was too precious, a gem among the gravel. He reached up to touch her cheek softly. Her bright green eyes were mesmerizing, and he was caught in their spell. He wanted her to enchant him, wanted to be under her spell.

He leaned in closer and slid his hand to the back of her neck. She offered no resistance, instead welcoming him. He took her offer and kissed her, the fire he'd tasted in her blood was intensified in her lips. He savored the taste of her a moment before drawing away. There was something he had to take care of first.

She could hear his thoughts. He had let his shields down to let her into his head. She had been hypnotized by the intimacy of it, and stunned that he trusted her enough to allow her to hear his thoughts. Her face felt hot and she wasn't sure if she was blushing, or if it was the heat from his kiss that caused it. The taste of his lips still lingered on her mouth and she hungered for more. His kiss was just as powerful as his blood had been, and a hundred times more satisfying.

He picked up the dragon amulet from the table. "I will be back momentarily," he told her. "This needs to be locked away somewhere safe. I believe it is even more dangerous than you think." He wanted to touch her again, but with the medallion in his hand, he was hesitant to. A moment or two longer, he could wait.

His form began to waver and dissolve again. In an instant, he was gone. She had not heard how he preformed that trick, and she was curious how he did it. There must be a reason she didn't hear him think about it. Maybe he didn't have to think about it at all? He must have done it countless times in his long life. Maybe he was trying to protect her. He had said some things would take time to learn and longer to perfect. She imagined transforming a solid body into a gaseous one must take skill and practice.

It eased her mind enough that she slipped under the covers of the bed. The sheets must have been Egyptian cotton, and a high quality thread count. She decided she liked them better than her silk ones at home. Ah, home, she thought. Whatever will become of my life now? How many actresses could find work without having to work under bright lights? Maybe she could do horror films. She wouldn't even have to pretend to get into character, she could play as herself. So much for her next big step.

She shook her head. What bigger step could she have taken? She felt like she was the leading lady in her own personal movie. Enter suave, debonair leading man. Her skin was tingling with the memory of his touch when his form reappeared. Her shields were still in place, but she could have sworn he had heard her thinking about him.

I will keep it locked away for now. I fear leaving you alone while you dream. If you walk the planes again, you may not be able to find the way back to your body without help.

The thought shocked her. She had heard Nevar's voice the first time, when she hadn't known what it was she was actually doing, that she had focused on to return. It seemed everything depended on focus and clarity of mind. Unlike her human mind, this new mind was easy to clear of the chaos and distractions. It gave her much more room in her head, it seemed. Not that her brain had increased in size, but that she was using every inch of it and had full access to it at will. Not to mention, the enhanced abilities of becoming a vampire.

"How do I control it? Can I just sleep without ending up in another place and time or will I walk every time I sleep?"

"I cannot walk the planes, so I do not know the answers. We will have to find someone who can. For now, I need you to let your shields down and let me in. If you do walk, I should be able to walk with you through your thoughts. Physically, I will not be there, but I should be able to communicate with you."

She let down the walls that kept him out of her head. She hated feeling so vulnerable, but she also felt safer knowing that he could monitor her while she slept. "You'll be staying close by then?" She bit her lip, a nervous habit of hers. She wanted him as close as possible, but he was almost a stranger to her. Still, he was the closest one to her now and he was the only one she knew that could protect her.

"Where would you like me to stay?" He moved closer to her and put his hand gently on her shoulder. His eyes were soft and sincere. He let his guard down for her. He wanted her to know that he would be here for her. As long as he lived, he would be there whenever she called.

"Please," she begged, "I don't wish to be a burden for you to carry. I don't blame you for this, and I don't want you to bury yourself in guilt."

"You could never be a burden to me," he assured her.

Will you stay with me tonight?

Of course, I will.
He smiled at her and leaned in to kiss her cheek. He was close enough to smell the subtle scent of jasmine in her hair. He wanted to be closer, wanted to taste her skin. He had to keep his thoughts in check. He was getting to be as bad as Xander. He pulled away and walked around the bed.

His fingers moved nimbly to loose the buttons on his shirt. His bare chest was broad and well-muscled, just as she had imagined it would be and his hips formed a tantalizing V. A sprinkling of dark curls spread across his chest and below his naval, disappearing at his waistband. Her fingers itched to pet the thin layer of curls, but she quelled the thought before it was fully formed. She busied herself in the act of arranging pillows to make herself comfortable. It had been a very long night, and her weariness was catching up with her. Who knew dying was so exhausting? It was a morbid thought, but, in her case, technically true. No, she preferred to think she had metamorphosed or evolved. Even the controversial theory was easier to digest than the alternative.

Xander was right. Your mind is fascinating, indeed.
He succeeded in catching her eye, now stripped down to a pair of shorts. Her cheeks bloomed with color and her eyes darted to her lap, as if finding something decidedly important there. He could not read her thoughts. Apparently, her walls had snapped in place out of reflex. He had to admit, he was immensely impressed, and only slightly disappointed.

"You're being sneaky," she said.

"Not sneaky, playful perhaps." His smile lit up the room as he got into the bed with her.

"If I wasn't so scared to sleep alone, I'd make you sleep upstairs."

His smile vanished instantly. Again, she saw it, that element of danger in him. It was the protector in him. He had the tenacity of a guard dog and she knew without doubt that nothing would harm her so long as he was near her. She realized her guard was up and released it again. It would do her no good to protect herself from her protector.

I do not want you to be afraid. I promise I shall take care of you.
It was his responsibility to look after her. It was only fair. It was his fault she was scared, and he understood. It had been long ago when he entered this life, but the memory would never fade away.

He led her through his thoughts back to a simpler time. It was late that night when he walked the cobblestone street towards home. It was brisk, so he pulled his collar up close to his ears. The festivities had all died down now.
Le Mardi Gras
was over. Just another year, he thought. He had not been out celebrating with the rest of them. He was still in mourning. Just over a year ago, his wife had died in childbirth. Sadly, his son had died a month later of consumption. This was a grim season for him, and he secretly despised Paris for being so happy.

He made the lonely walk home through the dark city streets. An eerie fog was beginning to descend over the land. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He felt he was being watched. His hand slid to the sword at his hip. His soldier's instincts bringing him to a defensive stance. He was quick, but not nearly fast enough. The wind was knocked cleanly out of his chest with the sheer force of impact and his vision blurred as his head collided with the cobblestone. His sword had made contact with what felt like a brick wall.

Pain shot through his neck and he felt his heart quicken with adrenaline. He smelled blood. His head was swimming and his limbs were growing cold. With his last ounce of strength, he pushed up against the force holding him down. The weight lifted off of his chest. All he could see were vague shadows.

A voice filled his head.
You're a strong one, you are
. It was a strong, deep voice.
Your sword left quite a sting in my side
.
I think I will share a gift with you
.

As his heart began to falter, something warm pressed against his lips. He cringed at the metallic taste at first, but it was so warm, and he was so cold. He began to drink the bitter tasting liquid and it warmed him. He felt his strength return and his vision began to clear. His head was no longer throbbing. A man was kneeling over him. The man pulled his wrist away from his mouth as his body started to convulse. Pain wracked his body and he felt himself dying. He would see his son and his wife soon. He waited for death to take him, welcomed it. He felt his heart stop. Soon.