Krieger
sat in the oversized chair, letting his arms hang down almost to the floor, and
inhaled deeply of her scent, now richer, more complex than it had been before.
He’d never encountered anyone who smelled so enticing. Her blood beguiled him,
like a flower lures the bee to its sweet nectar. He wished to sink his fangs
into her soft skin, to feel the first spurt of blood hit his tongue. He groaned
with anticipation. To a vampire, blood and sex were intertwined. When he’d
healed her with his blood it had taken a great deal of restraint not to seek
his own physical fulfillment. He was ill prepared to deal with an innocent. His
fingers wrapped around the legs of the chair, and the sound of wood snapping
under pressure made him release his grip.
Her
eyelids fluttered. It took a few attempts before she turned her head and stared
at him. He remained motionless.
“You
had a bad fall at the party, remember?” He raised his hands, palms facing
towards her. “You’re safe, at my home.”
Her
face, already flushed, became a deep shade of red. He could hear her heart
beating hard and strong. He fought the urge to taste her.
“You
came for me.” Lily spoke softly. “I was afraid you wouldn’t.”
He
remembered what the doctor had said, and knew the volume was not important, but
that she was speaking meant a great deal.
“How
do you feel?”
She
took stock of her body. She raised the once injured shoulder, and then looked
down, amazed.
“I
healed you.”
She
slid up, clutching the sheet to her neck, and rested her back against the
headboard. The rose tones of the coverlet highlighted the perfection of her
skin. He pondered going to sit on the bed next to her, but decided she needed
to feel comfortable and safe in his presence, not hunted into a corner.
She
spoke out the word, “How,” on a long breath.
He
liked how she didn’t ask ridiculous questions. She cut straight to the point.
“With
my blood.”
Lily
glanced into his eyes, maybe gauging the truth of his words. She nodded and
looked down at her hands. He had anticipated some sort of feminine theatrics,
but she showed no emotion that he could decipher.
“I
don’t remember that.”
“When
did you remember me?”
“On
the mountain,” she said, staccato quick.
He
kept his face impassive.
“I’m
not–” She ran her hand over her shoulder again. “Am I?”
“Vampire,”
he finished her question. “No.”
The
sigh of relief made her thoughts clear. He wondered if she would be more
receptive to the idea after the years had ravaged her beautiful face.
“Did
Walter leave this for you?” He laid the small watercolor painting on the bed.
She
nodded.
Standing
up, careful to move at human speed, he motioned towards the hallway leading to
the bathroom and dressing area. “Everything you need will be provided. For now,
you should rest.”
Lily
shook her head. “I feel fine.” She started to get up, looked down, and
tightened her hold on the coverlet.
“Clothes
are in the dressing area. Do you need assistance?”
Her
expression said she did not.
“Can
you walk?” Krieger asked.
She
nodded.
He
went to the French doors and turned his back to her. “Go on. Call out if you
feel weak.” Modesty was something foreign to Others. They did not feel shamed
or embarrassed by nudity. He hadn’t thought about this and wished the doctor
had clothed her. He heard the lock mechanism on the connecting door click into
place. If it made her feel safe then what harm could it do?
Krieger
heard her walk back into the room. He stayed where he was, waiting to see what
she would do. When she came to stand next to him, he was pleased.
“Stoke
Castle sits atop the Blue Ridge mountains. Waverly is within view below us.”
Lily
stepped closer to the French doors, her hand reaching for the door knob.
“Dawn
is upon us. It would be best if you refrained from going outside until I exit
the room, or until the sun has set.”
Lily
went completely still again, much like a rabbit will hide in tall grass.
“How
long have I been asleep?” she asked.
“You’ve
been unconscious for a day.” He let her take a moment to process the
information. “Look at me.”
She
turned, which pleased him, but did not raise her eyes to his.
Placing
his forefinger under her chin, he lifted her face upwards. “Look at me,” he
said with a kind firmness. “I have lost the ability to trance you now that you
carry my blood.”
“Trance?”
she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
He
ran his fingers lightly over her cheek bones and rested his hand against her
face. “Your father told me that you hate to be touched, and yet you do not
flinch away from me. It is good.” He bent down to place his lips next to her
ear. “You have no need to fear me.”
