Page 7 of Twist of Fated Mates
Nigel drums his fingers on the table absently. “I appreciated my uncle’s concern, but I was headed in the opposite direction. I wasn’t worried, though I should have been.” He shudders.
The urge to go to my mate’s side, to comfort him, is hard to ignore.
Our little fire burns on as though nothing’s wrong. As though we’re having a pleasant chat over tea. As though Nigel isn’t struggling to finish his tale.
“Turns out, the rogues were young vamps, a group of individuals all rebelling against their makers for one reason or another. Lawless and on the run, already wanted by their own kind for breaking their rules.” He huffs a sigh. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Oh, Nigel.”
“They had to have known they’d be caught. Maybe they were curious about what would happen or how much chaos they could cause before a more powerful vampire put a stop to their crimes. I don’t know.”
He plucks the flower from behind his ear and worries it between restless fingers. I want to lay my hands over his, warm him, calm him, but I doubt he’d welcome the gesture. He’s wound so tight. “You don’t have to tell me the rest. If it’s too much, I’ll understand.”
“No. I should finish. Holding it all in has done me no favors.”
“Take your time.”
“Thank you.” He takes another deep breath. “I shifted and ran, but it didn’t matter. I was outnumbered, and they were impossibly fast. They taunted me as they hunted me down and cornered me. ‘Smelly dog. Bet he can lick his own cock. Here, puppy, puppy. puppy.’”
Anger heats my face more than our fire ever could. Curse those bastard vampires to hell and back! They deserve no less for attacking my Nigel.
“I panicked and howled. They laughed. I fought as hard as I could, but it was over in minutes. They pinned me to the ground, then took turns feeding.” He trembles.
My heart hurts.
“I thought they were going to kill me, but as I was near to passing out and struggling to keep my eyes open, the big one said, ‘Ah, ah, ah,’ in a sickening singsong voice and slapped me awake. ‘Can’t have you dying on us, can we? It’s forbidden to kill one of your kind, smelly cur that you are. Something about a pact between species. Punishment is death. Atruedeath. And I’m not about to risk that for your scrawny hide.’”
The pact rings a bell. Not that it’s ever come up in our quiet hollow. But my mother insists we’re all taught proper conduct between species as cubs. Just in case. “I wish I could kill them right now.”
Nigel shakes his head. “No. If you ever see them, you run. Run and hide. Promise.”
I can’t promise that. “What happened next?”
“The big one drew a knife from inside his boot, then grabbed his buddy’s arm. ‘So drink up, little wolfy,’ he said as he slashed the other’s wrist. ‘Go on, down the hatch.’
“The bleeding vampire shrieked, but the big one was stronger. Blood spilled from the wound and dirtied my muzzle. I yanked my head away, only to find my scruff fisted in a pair of iron hands, forcing me to stay in place.”
It sounds awful. I squirm in my seat.
“I was dying. Blackness beckoned from behind my eyelids, but death was just out of reach. Another metallic twang of blood hit like a punch to the gut, overwhelming me and stealing the air from my lungs. I had to drink. My body made me, tongue straining for a taste against my will.
“It was over then. I stopped fighting. I drank the vampire’s blood. My heart shuttered to a halt, but I lived on. The world was lost to shadow.” A breath shudders out of him. He closes his eyes.
“When I awoke, they were gone, and the forest was a mewling cacophony of noise the likes of which I’d never heard.Bugs rustling in the undergrowth, ants climbing tree trunks like stampeding elephants, leaves shaking in the breeze, but to me, the breeze was a blustery wind that sounded more like a tornado than a calm summer’s night.” His lids flutter open, and our gazes meet.
He continues, “But worse than the noise. Worse than the smells. Worse than the array of colors I’d never perceived before and assaulted my eyes. Worse than all that was the hunger.”
Nigel’s eyes flash golden as the word hangs in the air. He darts his tongue out and wets his lips. He stares not at me but somewhere past me, off my right shoulder, perhaps into the flames. I see the hunger in the intensity of his gaze, in his hollow cheeks and glistening lips.
“I can’t even imagine what that was like for you.”
“I’m glad you can’t. I wouldn’t wish this curse on anyone, but especially not you, Charlie. Anyway, as I laid there, my belly twisted and churned on itself, empty of the new elixir of life it would go on to crave like a drug. I was ravenous and driven mad by its demands.”
I’m stiff in my seat, muscles clenched. “You must have been so scared.”
He huffs a sad chuckle. “There wasn’t room for fear. Only thirst.”
“What did you do?”
