Her Last Words [The Pacts Series] Page 3

  "Please. Stay."

  She allowed herself to relax again, her head nestled in the crook of his neck, her lips barely brushing against the healing scars that made him hers. They wouldn't be able to remain like this for long, the night was only starting and there was much to do still, but for a little while, it couldn't hurt to simply enjoy the feel of her Childe beneath her, and the gentle, almost timid glide of his fingers up and down her back.

  A question slowly made its way to the forefront of her thoughts, and Gabrielle almost asked it aloud before thinking better of it. She didn't need to know whether Erik had loved other women before her. He had been reborn this night, as her Childe and lover, and that was really all that mattered.

  Chapter 3

  When Gabrielle roused completely again, the pain was still there, but the smallest involuntary movement quickly proved that her body was bound tight. She cracked an eye open and when her vision adjusted she could see that it wasn't ropes that bound her as she had first thought. Her chest, right arm and left thigh were bandaged, the cloth tinted red in places. The sheet tucked tight under her that prevented her from rolling to her side was also, faintly, stained in blood. Recognition struck, and she looked around. Not only her sheets, but her bed, her bedroom, her home.

  It was only a modest house, deep in the forest, that she had found by accident while traveling one night. Its previous occupants had probably been chased off by demons. There were only two rooms to it, the bedroom and the common room, and a small barn outside. She never lit the fireplace, unwilling to give herself away with smoke. When she had kept a horse, she had used the well outside to water the animal; now, she only used the water to clean herself after hunts. After living for more than three centuries in a proper lair, the change had been abrupt, and appropriately humbling.

  But how had she ended here? Had she been weak again and fled in front of the sunrise? No, it couldn't be that, she couldn't have taken care of her wounds like this, nor could she have reached the house in time before the sun had appeared.

  She tried to sit up, but flares of pain in her body quickly made it clear that it was a bad idea. More blood seeped into the sheet, and she watched the growing red circle as she tried to remember.

  She had gone out. Ready to put an end to it all. And found exactly the kind of attention she had sought, her current state was proof enough of that. But then ... What had happened?

  A flash ran through her mind, an angry storm of gray, and the memory was back. Erik. The younger vampire was the reason she wasn't dust. She remembered, now, episodic and broken pieces of the trip home, Erik's silence even as Gabrielle had pleaded to be left alone, the pain of the bones being set and bound, a wrist pressed to her mouth...

  She could still recognize the taste on her tongue, which meant that it hadn't been so long ago. And yet, there was no trace of the other vampire.

  "Erik?” she called out, not bothering to make her voice loud, knowing that Erik would hear her if he was in the common room.

  There was no answer. She repeated the name, annoyed now, with the same lack of result. Grinding her teeth, she once again struggled to sit up. She could tell that it was night; she must have slept the whole day. If she was going to heal, she needed to go hunt for more blood. If she wasn't, she still needed to get outside, to find a clearing to wait for sunrise. She wasn't sure yet what her destination was; she would figure it out on the way. But she hadn't even reached the bedroom's threshold when her legs gave out under her, and she fell, face first, crying out in pain when she caught herself on her injured arm. She fought to stop her instinctive and so-painful breathing, and within seconds, she was staring at a pair of soft leather boots.

  "What are you trying to do?” Erik demanded harshly. “Paint the floor with your blood?"

  Erik seemed almost brusque as he picked her up and carried her back to bed, but she barely felt a twinge of pain as he did, proof if need be that his lack of gentleness was nothing more than a façade. Gabrielle stared at him as he took a couple of steps back, her eyes attracted despite herself to his bare chest, and in turn he stared back at her. Many times, in the last centuries, she had wondered if her Childe was still in the world or if he had found peace yet. Many times she had missed him. Many times she had regretted the way they had parted after what should have been the greatest accomplishment of their clan. Regretted, also, the way she had left the younger vampire without a goodbye. It was good to see him, but it was almost frightening to see how cold his eyes had become.

  "Hungry?” Erik asked.

  Gabrielle nodded, unable yet to articulate a word. It was her Childe in front of her, a man with whom she had lived and shared a bed for more than a century. But at the same time, with each unfeeling word, each cold look, she realized she was in the presence of a stranger.

  "Going to get yourself dusted as soon as you're good enough to walk out of here? ‘Cause if you're going to, there's no sense in wasting good blood on you."

  The contempt in that voice was painful, but the smallest bit of anger belied it, and Gabrielle felt a trace of relief. If Erik was angry that she had tried to find her final rest, if he had saved her, brought her here, then that meant he still cared about her. They hadn't been on the best terms before the battle; Erik had argued every time Gabrielle had been close enough to hear that the risk wasn't worth the reward, that they ought to contact other clans to organize their defenses against the demons rather than try something so dangerous by themselves. He had even suggested teaching humans how to defend themselves. Gabrielle hadn't listened, and she had demanded from her Childe total obedience, something she hadn't done since they had stopped sharing a bed, and rarely even before that.

  But if Erik did care ... Gabrielle fought the smile that was pushing to her lips, the first of its kind in many, many years.

  "I won't,” she promised quietly.

  Erik remained immobile for a few seconds, and then he nodded and came to her. He knelt on the floor at the head of the bed, reminding her of how he had knelt at her feet the night she had met him, and brought his wrist to her mouth, just close enough that at her smallest movement her lips caressed his skin. He didn't flinch at the contact, but she did, remembering a past that she had thought forgotten, and a lover, a Childe that she had believed was lost to her. But he was here, now. He had saved her from the humans and the sun, he had taken care of her, offered his blood to her and was doing so again. She wished she could have told him how much it all meant to her, how much his simple presence by her side made her decision to end her life seem foolish. But the deep hunger of her healing body demanded that she feed; there would be time for talking later. Time for explanations, apologies, and proper reunions. For now, the almost forgotten yet still familiar feeling of her fangs sinking not just into any flesh, but his, her first Childe's, was enough.

  She closed her eyes as his blood rolled on her tongue. It had been two hundred years since she had tasted him last; with the passing centuries, he had grown stronger than she remembered, as strong as she had imagined he would become, a Master in his own right, and yet he was sharing with her when she had no right anymore to demand anything of him.

  The temptation to keep pulling on his blood was deep, as was the one to draw him in the bed next to her. But he had already fed her earlier, and when she opened her eyes she could tell, by the painful tightening at the corner of his eyes, that she had reached the limits of what was reasonable. She retracted her fangs and licked the neat punctures she had created until they closed. She was about to urge him to lie down next to her when he pulled his arm back and stood. He was already turning away when she thanked him. He didn't reply.

  "Get some rest,” Erik advised her instead, before leaving the room. Gabrielle called his name, too many questions cluttering her mind about where he had been all this time, what he had done. Whether he would stay. But Erik didn't stop, didn't look back, and after a moment it didn't matter because Gabrielle drifted back into dreams.

  * * * *

&
nbsp; The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when Gabrielle stumbled into the ruins that would save her and the unresponsive vampire she had dragged to safety. Their lair was destroyed, but what was left of it should protect them from the sun until night.

  As soon as she let go of him, Erik curled up on the floor, a tight, quivering ball that didn't respond when Gabrielle tried to tell him to get a grip. Too exhausted to fight anymore, be it with words instead of hands, Gabrielle sank to the floor too, leaning against a broken wall, allowing aching limbs to find some rest. After a few seconds, her Childe's soft whimpers became too much to bear, and she reached out to him, pulled him to her lap, and bit softly the curve of his neck with blunt teeth. Erik froze instantly.

  Relieved that he had calmed down, Gabrielle began letting go, but clutching hands protested, held her tight, right where she was, asking for more without words. They had both lost too much blood for this, but at the same time they both needed it, she realized. Once more, she bit down, this time with razor sharp fangs. Flavor and strength exploded on Gabrielle's tongue, and she couldn't help drawing more than she had meant to, encouraged by Erik's quiet whimpers and the cock she could feel hardening against her belly.

  The next few seconds were no more than a blur. They tore at each other's clothes, nails sharp as claws slicing through fabric, but also leaving faint bleeding scratches in their wake. The blood was too enticing to waste, and they took frantic turns licking and sucking at each other's skin. It had been a long time, since they had touched like this, a little less than two years that now felt like an eternity, but Gabrielle remembered—how could she have forgotten?—each and every spot that made Erik writhe and moan and plead for more with his hands, eyes and lips. And he remembered each and every one of hers.

  Blood, mouths and hands soon weren't enough anymore, and Gabrielle pushed Erik onto his back on the ground. He complied easily like the obedient Childe he had been in his first decades as a vampire. It wasn't about pretending he was indulging Gabrielle this time, though. They both needed the same comfort. Both needed contact. And each other.

  Erik cried out when Gabrielle straddled him and abruptly sank down on his cock, but he didn't try to fight her for control as he had so often done in the last few months of their sharing a bed. Hands simply resting on her hips, he let her find her pace, merely arching into her as though trying to slide deeper inside her. Gabrielle set a harsh rhythm, rising on her knees so only the tip of her Childe's cock remained in her, then grinding down hard even as he rose toward her. She never broke eye contact as she did, and let her hands play over his body, rediscovering hard planes and pale golden silk.

  His own hands were still at her waist, clutching tight enough that she knew new bruises would bloom there, holding as though to a safe line while his silent lips formed the word ‘Sire’ over and over again.

  And even as she enjoyed all of it, all of Erik, even as she finally closed her eyes to hold the pleasure at bay just a little more, make the sensations last just a little longer, Gabrielle hoped. She hoped this was more than a one-time encounter, more than cold comfort given and received from the only possible source, more than an ironic and painful celebration of life in the aftermath of a deadly battle. Even through their arguments, even though she had pushed him away, she had never stopped caring for her Childe, never stopped being proud of him, never stopped wishing he hadn't needed to leave. And now if he only would...

  "Be my favored Childe again,” she pleaded, breathless, as she looked at him again. His eyes were shut tight, and hints of tears gleamed at the corners of his eyelids. “We can build it all again, Erik. If you just join me, if you just want me..."

  He never answered.

  They came together with matching cries and tears.

  Gabrielle encouraged Erik to take blood from her, enough to heal his body, and they fell asleep together. When night came, she left her still sleeping Childe without a goodbye. His answer—or lack thereof—had been clear enough to her; she had no wish to ask only to be rejected again. No wish either to impose her will on him again, after her decisions had caused the near total destruction of her clan.

  * * * *

  Gabrielle woke with a jump, her body immediately protesting at the rush of pain the movement provoked. Stifling a moan, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to erase from her memory the dream of long gone times, of the pain her departure had created. How often had she regretted leaving Erik? How often had she tried to find him again? How often had she mourned what she had lost, what could have been...

  "You're awake?"

  The rasping voice startled her, and as she opened her eyes she wondered how long Erik had watched her sleep. Wondered if the younger vampire knew.

  "Yes, I'm awake. How long have you been here?"

  Erik shrugged. “Couple of minutes. Was going to wake you. You slept a long time."

  Again, Erik's voice sounded ... strange. Different. As if he hadn't used it in a long time and was relearning how.

  "How long?"

  Another shrug. “Day and a half. Feeling better?"

  Carefully taking mental inventory of her body, Gabrielle realized that yes, she did feel better. It would be a few days still before she was healed enough to be out and about, but it should have taken a lot more than that. The taste of blood on her tongue told her exactly what had happened. Erik had fed her his blood again. Blood from a Childe, but also from a Master vampire in his own right, Gabrielle could hardly have been offered anything better. She wanted to ask why, to thank him again, to just say something, but she didn't know where to start.

  When she didn't answer, Erik came to the bed and pulled the sheet away, exposing her body. Apart from the bandages, she was naked, and she suddenly felt very self-conscious. It was silly, really. Erik had seen her naked too many times to count, had touched every inch of her body with hands and lips and she had never hid before him. And yet, at that instant, she wanted to do exactly that. She wanted to hide from him what years of fighting on her own and feeding too little and from animals and demons had done to her. There was nowhere to go, however, and all she could do was close her eyes so she wouldn't see the pity or disgust on his face.

  The mattress of dried grass shifted under her as Erik sat down at her side. Gentle hands touched her thigh, lightly coaxing it upward so that the bandage around it could be undone. Dried blood made the removal of the last few inches tricky, but Gabrielle never felt a twinge of pain as Erik continued his careful ministrations. He stood and left the room then, and Gabrielle opened her eyes to look at her leg. A long, jagged red slash marred it, both sides of the closed wound dirty with dried blood; she could remember, vaguely, a sharp rock used by one of the humans who had attacked her. She hadn't realized she had been cut so deeply by the rudimentary weapon.

  Within seconds, Erik came back with a large bowl full of steaming water. Sitting down again next to her, he soaked a piece of cloth in the water and wrung it before lightly dabbing at her thigh. Gabrielle watched his hand for a moment, the precision and care of his movements, before shifting her gaze up to his face. He was entirely focused on what he was doing, and the look of concentration was familiar. What was not, however, was the total lack of feelings reflected on his features, and this realization felt like a blow to Gabrielle. Abandoning her observation, she closed her eyes again, and let her mind wander to the past.

  Before they had started organizing in quasi-military troops, demons had never been very hard to kill, but occasionally a hunt had ended with blood shed on the vampire side of the fight. More than once over the years, Gabrielle had been the recipient of Erik's tender care, although he had rarely needed to do more than clean her wounds and bandage them. She had had the occasion to return the favor, more frequently in his early years, and less often as he had become a better fighter. It had always been a prelude to another kind of touching, more intimate, and even now Gabrielle's body remembered it as clearly as her mind.

  It didn't take long for her to start wishing the wa
rm cloth would find its way higher up her thigh and to her folds. The wetness that was pooling there had to be obvious to Erik, and Gabrielle soon realized that the scent of lust didn't come only from her. But Erik pretended not to notice, and as he finally finished cleaning her thigh he simply stood and took the water bowl to the other room without a word or a look at her. Gabrielle clenched her fists at this clear dismissal, refusing to give in and touch herself, and was glad for it when he returned moments later.

  This time he went to the other side of the bed and, as carefully as earlier, unwrapped the bandage from her arm.

  "Does it still hurt?” he asked as he manipulated her arm, looking up at her for the first time since he had started tending to her. She was almost glad to hear in his cracking voice that he wasn't as unaffected as he pretended to be.

  "A little,” she replied as coolly as she could, as though her scent wasn't telling him her calm was all pretense.

  "The break was clean,” he continued as he picked up the length of cloth and started wrapping it around her arm again. “It'll probably heal just fine as long as you let it."

  She wanted to snap at him that she knew that, seeing how she had taught him as much mere weeks after she had sired him, but she managed to contain herself.

  "Sit up,” he requested when he was done, and helped her by sliding a hand to her back. His touch remained completely neutral as he undid the bandages wrapped around her torso, and Gabrielle bit her lips not to moan when, a couple of times, by accident, the back of his hand brushed the underside of her breast. Her nipples hardened instantly, another obvious clue of her desire that he refused to see. Still as gently, he ran a hand over both her sides, checking her ribs, she realized.

  "You had three broken ribs as far as I could tell, maybe more.” Again, his eyes slid to her face. “Do you want to keep the bandages a little longer?"

  She shook her head, unwilling to endure any more torture under his too gentle, too careful hands, and lay back down again.