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  ability to shed their human forms and fully embrace the Other that lurked in their cells. Thirst flared in my throat, and I had to stop myself from immediately gratifying the impulse. I focused on Alexa instead, willing myself to remember my humanity through her reactions. Horror dawned in her expression as the wolves grappled, shedding fur and blood. She cringed when a pair of snapping jaws bit through the gray wolf’s right ear.

  And when, at the last, he stumbled, opening himself to his adversary, she cried out as his life was extinguished by those sharp yellow teeth. I held her trembling body tightly as we both watched, unable to turn away, as the black wolf chewed into the belly of his enemy, seized the still-beating heart between his powerful jaws, and ate it. I wanted to be disgusted. I wanted to be outraged. But part of me felt an ecstatic, empathetic triumph with the victor, and joy in having witnessed the beautiful brutality of his conquest. Thankfully, Alexa kept me human.

  “Val!” she said, spinning in my arms, her eyes swimming with angry tears that she would not allow to fall. “But…but how can they—”

  She drew herself up to her full height. “This is murder for sport! It has to be stopped!”

  I cupped her face in my palms before she could say anything else. If the right person—or the wrong one—heard her talking like this, they’d want to ensure that she didn’t make trouble. I would not allow that to happen.

  “Babe, listen to me. I know. And I agree with you. But we have

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  to play it cool here. Everybody’s drinking the Kool-Aid, okay? Look around you.”

  She took in the boisterousness of the nearby observers—belly laughs and toothy grins if they collected their money, clenched fists and liberal obscenities if they had to pay. This wasn’t the time or the place to demonstrate displeasure.

  “You want to get out of here?” I asked. “We can catch a cab home.”

  She shook her head, eyes still shining with fury. I could tell that she was too choked up to say anything. I tamped down the part of me that wanted to make a bet on the next fight—the part that wanted to push even closer to the front for a better view. I would not devolve. It was just the parasite, dredging up my id. And I had sworn to fight it.

  “Come on,” I urged. “Let’s go, before the next one starts.”

  “But you haven’t had time to look. For…him.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out on our way back,” I promised, slowly drawing her toward the periphery. “I don’t like what this place does to me.”

  She nodded as if she understood, but there wasn’t any way she could. I was just as dangerous as those wolves. Only far more subtle.

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  everafter

  Chapter twelve

  Istood with my feet shoulder-width apart, my right slightly in front of my left, and focused on squeezing the trigger slowly. It was important to keep the pressure constant; whenever I squeezed suddenly in anticipation of the gun’s kickback, my hand jerked and threw off my aim. Greg, my instructor, was trying to break me of that bad habit today. I shut my right eye, lined up the front sight with the rear notch, and squeezed off eight rounds in rapid succession.

  “Much steadier that time,” said Greg, who was hovering behind me. I put down the gun and pulled off my goggles and earmuffs as he flipped the switch on the target’s conveyer belt. As it grew closer, I nodded in satisfaction. No bull’s-eyes, but three of my shots had penetrated the second innermost ring.

  “You’re catching on quickly.”

  “Thanks.”

  The day after the Red Circuit party—almost two weeks ago, now—I had called up the firing range and scheduled my first lesson. My fragility was unsettling. To play it safe, I would have to resort to the brutal violence of a gun to defend myself. It simply wasn’t fair: if I had to drink blood for the rest of my existence, it seemed that at the very least, Fate could give me a permanent paranormal ability. When I had made my complaint to Alexa a few days ago, she had pointed out that I was going to live forever. But I didn’t see that as a benefit—more like a curse. We hadn’t talked yet about what we were going to do when it became obvious that she was aging and I wasn’t. I didn’t want to think about it. Not now. Not yet. Not ever.

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  I exhaled quickly in an effort to dispel the surge of panic. “So,” I said, turning to Greg. “Same time on Tuesday?”

  “Will do.” We shook hands, and then I was alone with my equipment. I carefully packed my gun back in the briefcase that Penn had used; almost two weeks later, I hadn’t yet gotten a holster for it. The thought of actually carrying it on my person still seemed more than a little creepy, Second Amendment notwithstanding. I had decided to come to the Westside Pistol and Rifle Range every Tuesday and Thursday in the late afternoon until my lessons were up. This was my third session, and now that I was feeling fairly confident about my ability to handle the gun safely, I could think about things like my technique. I hadn’t expected to enjoy shooting, but it really was a sport, and I was finding it a welcome challenge that wasn’t nearly as physically taxing as my efforts to regain my strength and stamina. Now that my leg was mostly healed, I had started running again. Getting back into shape was painful. Add to that the fact that I put my shoulder through hell five days a week with a free weight rotation, and I was constantly sore. Everywhere.

  The disconcerting thing was that I was capable of less this week than I had been the week before. I knew exactly why that was the case: I hadn’t fed from Alexa since…well, it felt like forever. She had tried cajoling, threatening, and even begging, but I hadn’t given in since losing control that Monday night. It frightened me that I had hurt her without even realizing it, and I hated that my drinking from her—which we had tentatively established as an act associated with intimacy and love—had been sullied by my memories of the attack. I wasn’t going to be able to hold back for much longer, though; my thirst was becoming overwhelming. She knew it, and was worried. How messed up was it that she was fretting about how I wasn’t drinking her blood?

  When I realized that I was descending into my brooding

  “she doesn’t deserve this” routine, I tried to snap myself out of it by reminding myself of everything that I had to get done over the weekend. I had finals next week, and they were going to be difficult. My professors had been incredibly understanding and tolerant of how much work I’d had to make up, given the mugging, but I wanted to show them that I could be an academic superstar despite my setbacks earlier in the semester.

  It was just after six now, and I hurried to the nearest subway

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  station. Alexa had said that she would take care of dinner tonight, but I wanted to try to beat her home. Next week was busy for her, too, especially because she was taking one class more than the rest of her cohort. Talk about a superstar.

  As the subway hurtled across town, I let myself dream about our future—not our distant future, because that scared me—but about the next few years. Once Alexa graduated, she would find a job here in the City, which shouldn’t be too hard for someone fascinated by corporate law. I would finish my four years of study, and then we’d either stay here in New York for my residency, or go elsewhere, depending on how she liked her job. I was determined to make myself as appealing a candidate as possible, so that I could go anywhere Alexa wanted to be.

  And then…in the past, I had rarely thought that far ahead, mostly because I had figured that my clinical rotations would show me the path I’d like most to take in the medical field. But now, I knew that I was destined to be a microbiologist. I wondered if the Consortium would hire me in that capacity, to do research on the parasite. Or maybe it would be best to get experience in another lab working with related organisms before turning my focus back to the one that was hell-bent on consuming my blood.

  While that particular part of my future path was bl
urry, I could see Alexa so clearly. She was always there at my side, holding my hand. My hopeful mind’s eye saw her healthy, radiant, full of life and energy. Not pale and weak. That result was what I was working for now: To find a way to help vampires exist without having to drink from humans. To improve Alexa’s quality of life. The reminder made me wish that I’d brought one of my textbooks along on the ride to study during the commute.

  But when I glanced down at the briefcase that rested on my knees, I was reminded of one of my short-term goals. Justice. The trail had apparently dried up for Detective Foster and the NYPD; Olivia hadn’t been in the news for a week now. She and I were probably the only people in New York who could make a positive ID of the rogue vampire, and I was the only one who could get into the Circuit. I wanted to go back. I needed to. The bastard continued to haunt my dreams, as though he was tormenting me at my failure to obtain closure. But as much as I wanted to rush into this, I knew that it was a dangerous proposition.

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  I wasn’t yet good enough with my gun, if things went south—and I wasn’t going back there unprepared.

  Stepping out of the sliding doors, I jogged up the stairs and walked briskly down Seventh Street toward our apartment. Maybe I really should look into taking up a martial art, too; the gun would only help me at a distance. I’d heard good things about jujitsu from one of my bartender friends, a petite woman who had taken down a knifewielding assailant with a throw when he had tried to steal her cash. I bared my teeth as I imagined pinning the rogue vampire to the ground. When I got home, I would give Cindy a call to find out the name of her dojo. Maybe Alexa and I could even take lessons together. We could spar with each other. That would be—

  The hot, spicy smell of fajitas yanked me out of my daydream as I took the indoor stairs two at a time. No matter how worried I was about the potential that I might seriously hurt her, seeing her again after a full day apart was a relief. And exhilarating. I was head over heels, and it felt so good.

  “Baby, that smells delici—oh my God.” My keys and briefcase fell to the hardwood floor as my hands went limp in shock and desire. Alexa was wearing nothing but a pair of tight dark jeans. She had pulled back her hair, and the end of the ponytail swished lightly against her bare shoulder blades. Her breasts were swaying tantalizingly as she stirred the steak and vegetable mixture with a spatula. I couldn’t get across the room fast enough, shedding my jacket as I went, until I finally stood behind her. There was no way that I could resist threading my arms around her chest to cup her breasts. Immediately, her nipples tightened.

  “Where do I apply to be your human bra?” I whispered into one ear. When she shivered instead of giggling, I realized that she was already very aroused. And who could blame her? We hadn’t made love since last Monday either, since I was afraid that sex would trigger my impulse to feed.

  “How about right here, right now?” she said breathily. I laughed. And then I smoothed my thumbs over her nipples. Her knees buckled, and she had to grab the counter with her free hand for support. “Someone’s sensitive today,” I murmured, unable to stop myself from sucking on a scar that I’d made a few weeks ago between her neck and shoulder.

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  “Oh, Val,” she muttered, true surprise coloring her voice. “That feels…oh, that feels so good.”

  “You feel so good.” My mouth blazed a trail to her earlobe. “You’re trying to seduce me, aren’t you?” It was obvious, and it was working. Just like that night in the club, I could feel my fears dissipating in the face of how much she wanted me—and how much I needed her right back. “If I say yes, will you stop?”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  I spun her around, sandwiching her body between me and the counter, careful to slide her away from the hot stove. I leaned in to press a line of kisses along her jaw. When she turned her head to capture my mouth, I pulled away. “Knock it off,” I said, grinning. “I’m teasing you.” “Are not.” She made a grab for my hair, clearly hoping to pull me closer, but I caught both her hands and held them above her head against one of the cupboards. She pouted. “You big meanie. This is my seduction.”

  I shook my head before letting my tongue trace her protruding bottom lip. “Nope. Not anymore.” I reached over to turn off the burner and the oven with my free hand. “If I let you go, will you keep these to yourself?”

  “I can’t touch you?” Her pout grew even more pronounced. I knew she was playing with me—teasing me in her own way—but submissive Alexa was even hotter than her assertive counterpart. I let go of her wrists and almost gave in to the impulse to take off my sweater. But there was something so damn sexy about staying clothed while she got naked.

  “Put your arms around my neck.” Her pupils dilated at the imperative. I had to hold back a shiver of my own as her palms gently brushed the short hairs along my nape. When I pressed our breasts together, she groaned at the soft friction of cashmere against her nipples. My mouth hovered barely an inch from hers, but still, I refused to give in. I wanted to savor this moment: her quick, warm breaths puffing against my face, her fingers massaging my scalp, her dark, hungry eyes conveying the magnitude of her need.

  “Please, Val,” she whispered. “Please kiss me.”

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  Her appeal undid me, and I kissed her like the starving woman I was. Our tongues tangled together, not in a battle but a dance. My need for her was an all-consuming force; without even second-guessing the impulse, I lifted her off the ground. Automatically, she wrapped her legs around my waist. She was hot against my stomach. My head was swimming. All I could think about was being inside her. Lurching backward, I staggered toward the bedroom. Our lips never separated. We didn’t quite make it to the bed. I got as far as the rug in the living room and then decided that was as good a place as anywhere to take her. I lowered her onto it and followed her down, planting my hands on either side of her head. She barely had time to take a deep breath before I was kissing her again. Her legs parted beneath mine and I ground into her before shifting slightly so that my right thigh was rocking against her. There was no room for doubt or uncertainty, not with this much love and want and need crowding my heart.

  Alexa tore her mouth from mine long enough to gasp, “Touch me.”

  I reared up into a kneeling position, grabbed her jeans, and yanked them down her legs until they caught around her ankles. She wasn’t wearing any underwear, and the sight of her, fully unveiled before me, made my heart contract in awe. I needed to taste her in every way possible.

  Now.

  I forced my lips to take their time, to explore the landscape of her body—to linger in the dips and crest the swells until her pleas were incoherent. When my head was finally even with her navel, I touched her the way she wanted me to, glorying in the wetness that coated her softest skin. She surrounded me, hot and pulsing, and I held nothing back. “Val, Val, Val,” she chanted as I watched her body take me in, over and over and over. I allowed my lips to linger on her inner thigh, feeling the pulse that hammered wildly just below her skin. Mine. Every inch, every drop of her, mine.

  I bared my teeth, curled my fingers, and claimed her. She screamed as her release flooded my hand and her blood poured into my mouth. Triumphant, I greedily drank her in. The hot rich taste of paradise cascading over my tongue, the liquid strength essence of

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  her life given in love flowing between us. More I needed more needed so much blood.

  So much blood. I was going to die. Helpless rage slipping out of my grasp, Olivia cold and weak, face as ashen as the white sheets of her hospital bed. White like the exploding pain behind my eyes, skull crashing hard into the asphalt…oh God, so much blood.

  “Sweetheart, it’s time to stop.”

  Impossible. It would never be time to stop. We would never be separated. N
o mine, no yours, just ours till death do us part. So beautiful, the current joining us. Someday, Valentine. Someday you’ll appreciate the beauty in this. His teeth in me my teeth in her full circle, full circle, full—

  “Val, love…stop. Stop—you’re taking too much. Stop!”

  Stop you bastard you fucking bastard what did I ever do to you why me why now get up Valentine get up you have to get up. Someone groaned in the distance, low and tortured. The wheeling stars and his slithering fist and the stench of rot and the knife handle under my palm and the blood, the blood, the blood.

  “Val…stop…”

  Hands in my hair, hands under my shirt, pushing, pushing me, no, no, hers not yours. I belong to Alexa. Alexa. I needed to apologize to Alexa. To beg her forgiveness. Alexa, I’m sorry, I’m—

  Her hand slid off my scalp as though it were boneless. I raised my head in confusion. Blood trickled down my chin, but I made no move to wipe it away. What the hell had just happened? I could sense the strength flowing into my muscles, but instead of the sparkling clarity that normally came with drinking from Alexa, I felt groggy. And…

  full. “Alexa?” As gently as possible, I touched my hand to the wound in her leg. It wasn’t bleeding at all. That was a bad sign. She didn’t so much as twitch. If her wound had been gushing with blood, that would mean her heart was still pounding. I looked down again, the wound was clean. No blood. Panic slammed into my gut, forcing the breath from my lungs. Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God oh no what the hell have I done—

  “Baby, please please, baby, please!” I was shaking and tears were mingling with Alexa’s blood on my face, and I pressed two fingers hard against her jugular but there was nothing to feel, nothing. I had taken it

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  all. She had tried to stop me—I could remember her feeble attempt to push me away—but I had let the memories and the thirst consume me. I had lost the fight for control, and now, she was…she was…