Chapter Five
"So, Morgan really was a vampire?" Leigh asked as soon as the first bag of blood was empty and she could remove it from her mouth. She then frowned at the lisp to her own words. It was odd trying to speak with a mouthful of fangs. Her tongue instinctively tried to avoid the sharp incisors, and as a consequence some of her words were mangled.
Lucian didn't seem to have any trouble understanding her, however. He merely opened the refrigerator door again and said, "You remember Morgan biting you and giving you blood. What did you think that meant?"
"It could have been the result of drugs dropped into my soda at work," she pointed out almost hopefully.
"No. "
"Are you sure -- " Leigh stiffened as he cut her off by popping a fresh blood bag to her open mouth. She instinctively pulled it away to finish her question, only to gasp as blood shot everywhere, springing into the air like a red fountain from two puncture holes.
Cursing, Lucian snatched the bag from her. Spinning away, he strode to the door against the wall the bed rested against and slammed it open to reveal a bathroom. He tossed the bag into the sink, grabbed a towel off the rack and whirled to return to her.
"Sorry," Leigh said quietly as he swiped at some of the blood that had sprayed over both her and the bed. Not that his effort did much good. The blood had already soaked into the sheets, and probably into her shirt, though it was hard to tell with the bloodstain already covering it.
Lucian didn't respond to her apology other than to grunt, then -- giving up on any hope of mopping up the blood -- he turned to retrieve another bag of it.
"Open," he ordered firmly.
Feeling guilty about the mess she'd made, Leigh sighed and opened her mouth for him to pop the fresh bag there. She then sat there with questions rushing through her mind that she couldn't ask. The moment this second bag was empty, she ripped it impatiently from her mouth.
"Do -- "
"I know you have questions," Lucian interrupted, "but they will have to wait until we get through feeding you. "
"No. I. . . " Leigh paused and growled in her throat as he popped another bag to her mouth. The man was fast, managing to pick the moment when her mouth was open just wide enough. She hadn't even seen the bag coming, it was just suddenly there, stuck to her mouth and blocking her speech.
Leigh glared at him over the bag, and Lucian glared right back, then his eyes shifted to the center of her forehead and narrowed in concentration. Frowning, she looked upward, wondering what he saw there.
"I can't read you. "
Her eyes shot forward to find him looking stunned, almost horrified. Frowning, she thoughtlessly pulled the bag away.
"What?" she asked, then cursed as she realized what she'd done. Fortunately, the bag had nearly been empty and it simply sagged, dribbling onto her upper legs and black skirt. "What do you mean, you can't read me?" she asked as he began to mop up her legs.
Lucian stiffened, then handed her the cloth to clean herself and straightened. "Nothing. I'm just tired. I'll try again later. "
"Try what later?" she asked with confusion.
"Never mind. How's your stomach?"
"My stomach?" Leigh echoed with bewilderment.
"Any cramps, queasiness, or anything?" he asked, the question just confusing her more.
"No, I'm fine. My stomach's fine. But -- "
"Good. Go take a bath. "
"But I want to know -- "
"After you bathe," Lucian insisted. "You reek of blood. "
"Probably because I'm covered in it," she said dryly.
"And whose fault is that?"
Leigh's mouth tightened, then she heaved out an exasperated breath. Fine, she'd go clean up. . . if she could walk, she thought, recalling her earlier weakness, when she'd been flopping on the floor beside the bed. She stood carefully, and blinked in surprise. Her strength appeared to have returned. Her legs were shaky, but held her up as she walked into the bathroom.
"What do -- " she began, turning back toward the door, only to see Lucian pushing it closed.
"Bath!" he snapped as the door slammed shut.
"I don't want to take a bath. I'm going to shower," Leigh said in rebellion, and childishly stuck her tongue out at the door. She hated being told what to do.
Silence was her only answer.
Sighing, she turned away, but paused as she caught sight of her reflection. If she had thought about it, she would have guessed that she'd look like hell -- she certainly felt like hell -- but the woman peering back from the mirror looked pretty okay. Her skin glowed, her eyes were bright and the color of. . .
She leaned closer.
"Gold," Leigh breathed with awe. Her previously boring, brown eyes were now a golden bronze. They were beautiful, she thought with amazement.
"Cool," she breathed.
Cheered by this, she briefly forgot all about her questions and concerns. Quickly stripping out of her clothes, she faced the mirror, then stared at herself for a long time. She turned this way then that, then faced the mirror straight on again, before leaning in to examine her neck closely.
She'd been sure Morgan had bitten her, and yet there was no mark. At first she thought it was simply because the blood staining her neck obscured it. She grabbed a washcloth that had been left neatly folded beside the sink, wet it under the tap, and quickly scrubbed the blood away in search of the bite. All she found was perfect, unbroken skin.
Yet her neck and chest and blouse were stained with blood.
Leigh peered at her body again, then her hands, looking for the little nicks from shaving and the burn she'd received the other night at work, but that skin was perfect, too. Even the cellulite on her hips and thighs was gone. And her figure was a little different as well. Not much, but her hips were a bit smaller, as was her waist. Unfortunately, her breasts weren't, though they seemed higher than they had been, defying the gravity that had pulled at them as she turned thirty. Maybe they would still shrink some, she thought hopefully.
Her gaze slid back to the mirror and she wrinkled her nose as she acknowledged that she was also still short. She supposed it was too much to hope that becoming a vampire would make her suddenly shoot up a few inches.
Leigh's smile faded as the word vampire slid through her mind.
Leaning forward, she opened her mouth to peer at her teeth, but they seemed no different. And yet they'd popped holes in the blood bags. Recalling Lucian lifting her shirt to her nose and the feel of pressure and shifting, she bent to grab her shirt off the floor where she'd dropped it and pressed it to her nose. The moment she inhaled, she felt the same pressure and shifting along her upper jaw.
Dropping the shirt, Leigh leaned toward the mirror and opened her mouth again to see two sharp fangs slipping out.
"Wow," she breathed, her stomach fluttering.
Reaching up, she poked and prodded at the two canines, trying to see if she could push them back up into her jaw. No go. They seemed firmly in place.
"Huh. " She stared at them, then leaned toward the mirror and tipped her head back to see the tips, looking for the holes that the liquid slid through, but she couldn't see any.
"Huh," she said again, then just stood there, unsure how to get them to go away.
Staring at her new teeth -- fangs, really, she admitted reluctantly -- and waiting for them to go away, she began to consider other concerns she would now have. Like daylight. Obviously, she'd now have to avoid sunlight. Considering she'd worked nights for the last six years, she supposed she shouldn't mind, but she did. She had chosen to work the night shift all this time, but now it appeared she no longer had that choice. Vampires could not go out in daylight without bursting into flames. She'd seen as much in the movies.
Then there were other things. . . She'd have to stay out of churches and avoid crosses. She was now cursed and soulless. She didn't much care for that. Deep in her heart, Leigh believed
in God, but often felt like God had forgotten her. He'd taken her parents, took her grandfather. . . and then there was Kenny. Though she didn't suppose she could blame Him for her marrying Kenny.
Leigh peered at herself, trying to see if she could see a difference now that she had no soul. She didn't feel any different. There was no sudden urge to go ripping the throats out of poor, unsuspecting humans. Maybe she still had her soul. Maybe you didn't lose it unless you actually bit someone, she thought. She'd had only bagged blood up to now. . . and would continue that way, she decided. If there was a way to do it, she'd rather keep her soul. It might have been a long time since she'd gone to church, and she often felt as if God had forgotten her, but she had never forgotten Him and spoke to Him each night before sleeping. She intended to continue doing that, whether she was a cursed, soulless vampire or not.
Leigh searched her mind for other ways life would now change, and her first thought was garlic. Never having cared much for garlic anyway, it wasn't of great concern. Then she blinked at herself in the mirror as she recalled that vampires weren't supposed to have a reflection.
Hmm, well that one's obviously wrong, she thought. Unless she wasn't done turning. Or maybe it was something that happened over time. She'd have to ask about that.
"I don't hear the bathwater running. " Lucian's voice boomed through the door, and Leigh rolled her eyes.
"I'm taking a shower," she reminded him.
"Then take it. "
Muttering under her breath, Leigh moved to the bathtub, opened the glass door and reached in to turn on the shower.
Lucian was most definitely a bossy man, she decided as she adjusted the temperature of the water. Kind of like her grandfather, who had been a crusty old soul with a heart of gold underneath.
But not like him at all, she decided in the next moment, as she recalled watching the play of muscles over his back and ogling his butt. She'd never lusted after her grandfather, but Lucian. . .
Leigh smiled as she stepped into the shower and pulled the glass door closed.
Though she would never have told him, she could admit to herself that Lucian was a very sexy man. At least, what she'd seen of him was. She found a new bar of soap in the soap dish, unwrapped it, then rubbed it between her hands under the spray.
Lucian had nice wide shoulders, a sculpted chest and back. . . and that ass! Leigh shook her head as she turned her back to the water to work a lather from the soap and admitted to herself that she'd wanted to run her hands all over his body; caress those muscles in his back, squeeze the taut muscles in his bottom and press herself naked against his chest. It was an unusual reaction for her. She didn't generally run around lusting after men she'd just met. Especially when she hadn't seen their face.
Although, Leigh thought, he could be the third man from the kitchen, the one who had pulled her back against his chest. He'd felt strong and sturdy there, reassuringly so. And he'd been very handsome. Lucian was the right height and size and also had the same ice blond hair.
Picturing the face of the man in the kitchen on Lucian's body, Leigh dropped the soap in the dish and began to run her hands over her body, spreading the lather. Somehow in her mind they became his hands, smoothing the soap across her stomach and then up over her breasts. . . caressing them. . . rolling the nipples between soapy fingers.
Leigh shuddered and moved to lean against the tile wall as her legs went a little weak. It was so real. . . She could feel the rough calluses and heat of his hands, even smell him. He smelled spicy and musky in her mind, and she inhaled deeply, despite knowing she couldn't actually be smelling and feeling this.
Unless it was something to do with being a vampire, she thought absently. Perhaps her imagination was somehow stronger. The thought drifted away as one of his hands moved from her breast to slide down over her stomach, running the soap over her trembling skin, then down over her hip.
In her imagination -- if it was imagination -- she pressed lightly against his chest, her sensitive, erect nipples scraping through the hair there. Then she pressed closer, transferring some of the lather.
A small sigh slid from her lips, and she pulled back slightly to run her hands over the smooth plains of his chest, spreading the lather around as she curved her hands over muscle and velvet-covered bone. He felt warm and solid under her hands, and so big and wide. He had the body of an athlete, or a warrior, and she wanted to lick every inch of him.
Leigh moaned in protest as his soapy hands dropped away, but then they caught her by the bottom and kneaded lightly as he urged her closer again. She caught her breath and clutched at his upper arms as she felt him press against her stomach. Like the rest of him, he was hard and big. . . at least he seemed big. Curious, she reached between them to grasp him in one soapy hand, and a little sigh slid from her lips as she felt his size.
Damn. Fantasies were wonderful, she thought as her dream man bucked at her touch, and then her fantasy lover took on a life and mind of his own and suddenly bent to kiss her. His tongue thrust into her mouth in time with her slow strokes; once, twice, three times, then he let go of her behind.
For a brief second Leigh feared he would end their embrace, but instead he tangled one hand in her hair, using it to shift her head slightly to the side as his mouth ravaged hers. Her dream Lucian was suddenly both demanding and commanding as he used the other hand to press her tighter, sliding her soapy body against his until he'd shifted her enough so he could slide one leg between both of hers.
Leigh moaned into his mouth as his upper thigh pressed against her, rubbing insistently. She found herself bearing down into the caress, her mouth becoming more demanding in turn as her excitement mounted. When the leg suddenly slid away, she nipped at his lower lip in protest, then gasped as his hand replaced his leg and his fingers slid over her slick skin.
Her body heavy and achy, Leigh arched into his touch, urging him on until she couldn't stand it anymore and broke their kiss. Letting her head fall back, she cried out with need.
In answer to that cry, he knocked her hand away from his erection, then spun her briefly under the water, rinsing away the soap. Just as quickly, he spun her back out and lifted her.
The bathroom tiles were cold against her back as he pulled her legs around his warm body. His mouth traveled down her throat, then farther, until he caught one nipple in his hot, wet mouth. He drew on it, teeth grazing the tip and her body arching to offer him more, unintentionally making her lower body rub against his erection.
Growling deep in his throat, Lucian straightened abruptly and claimed her lips in a searing kiss as he shifted and drove into her hot and hard. Her cry this time was caught in his mouth as he pinned her there against the wall.
Leigh had been holding his upper arms, but now shifted her hands; one to his shoulder, where it dug into the hard flesh, the other to tangle in his hair and tug demandingly.
Tension strung through her body, becoming thinner and more brittle with each plunge of his body into hers. They were both panting, both gasping, both striving toward release. . . and then the line of tension suddenly snapped and Leigh ripped her mouth free of his and screamed with release.
That's when her legs gave out. Her eyes shot open as she slid down the tile wall to sit on the back of the tub.
She was alone.
There was no warm Lucian, no hands holding her, no demanding lips claiming hers. . . No body had possessed her. . . yet her own body still trembled with release. She stared at the water shooting down from the shower head with bewilderment as she realized it all; scents, touch, caress, passion. . . It had all been in her imagination.
My imagination, Leigh thought weakly, and pressed her hot face against the cold tile. It was hard to believe. . . and yet probably for the best since it had ended before her dream lover found his own release.
Shaking her head, Leigh got carefully back to her feet. She eased forward until the water shot down over her flushed skin.
Her legs were still weak.
Gad, she thought with sudden consternation. She'd never had such a realistic wet dream in her life, and while awake!
A small embarrassed laugh slipped from her lips, and she ducked her head under the water, thinking that -- if nothing else -- it had done wonders for her stress level. She wasn't quite as upset about things as she had been. In fact, other than a little bemusement, Leigh was feeling pretty relaxed and happy at the moment. She could deal with this. So her life had changed. She was used to change. It seemed that's what her whole life had been about. She'd deal with it one day at a time, one matter at a time.
She'd try to think of it as an adventure, Leigh decided, and reached for the shampoo on the side of the tub.
Lucian woke with a start and jerked upright on the bed. He'd just had the most incredibly erotic dream. . .
Frowning, he peered around Lissianna's room. He'd grabbed a bag of blood and sat down on the side of the bed to feed, but had lay back while his teeth drained the bag. He'd lain there, eyes growing weary, listening as Leigh turned the water on in the bathroom. Much to his surprise, he'd then found himself imagining her stripping that blouse from her pale shoulders and slipping out of her short skirt before his eyes drifted closed and he fell asleep.
He supposed those last thoughts were what had brought about the dream, for the next thing he knew he was naked in the shower with Leigh, running soapy hands over her soft, pale skin, catching her breasts in his palms and rolling the nipples.
He'd kissed her, their soapy bodies gliding together, then she caught hold of him, and her hand had been warm velvet gloving his erection. He'd kissed her as she stroked him, one leg sliding between hers, then replaced it with his hand before taking her right there against the wall until she cried out with release.
Her release.
Unfortunately, that's when he woke up. If he'd just stayed asleep a couple more minutes. . .
Glancing down, Lucian lifted the apron he still wore to peer at the erection straining his black jeans. Just one more minute and he was sure he would have found release, too.
Shaking his head, he let the apron drop back into place. He supposed he should be glad. At least he now knew he could still get an erection. It had been so long since he'd had one that it might have been in question. He hadn't been interested in sex in a hell of a long time. Though no mortal would believe it, even that got boring after a couple of millennia.
It seemed his interest in sex was back, however, Lucian acknowledged, and his gaze slid to the bathroom door. He stared at it thoughtfully as he recalled trying to read her earlier. He'd intended to slip into her thoughts to silence her questions and control her. However, he hadn't been able to pierce her thoughts, perhaps because he was tired -- and he'd been very tired, as his falling asleep while feeding attested to. But his sudden reawakened interest in sex suggested otherwise. It was possible Leigh was his life mate.
Lucian frowned at the thought.
Over the last couple of years, he'd watched his niece and nephews find their own life mates, and he'd been happy for them. He'd also been envious, yearning for someone of his own again. He'd had a life mate once before in Atlantis but had lost her during the fall. Part of him was excited at the idea of finally having someone to share the passing years with. But another part was anxious, reluctant to love and -- possibly -- lose again.
She might not even be my life mate, Lucian told himself. He would know one way or the other after he'd had some sleep and tried to read her again. He really was tired. So tired that if he sat here much longer he'd fall asleep again and Leigh would come out to find him passed out on the bed. Unfortunately, he had things to do. He would sleep later.
Sighing, Lucian pushed himself off the bed, then froze as he caught sight of himself in the mirror over the dresser across the room. He was bare-chested, wearing a flowered apron, rubber gloves, a bandanna over his hair and another over his lower face. . . He looked like an ass.
Shaking his head, Lucian yelled at Leigh to find something clean to wear in the closet when she was done, then headed for the door.
The moment he opened it, Julius leapt off the bed to follow. Lucian waited for him, then pulled the door closed and headed for the kitchen. One step into the room and he paused abruptly. Julius had managed to spread garbage from one end of the house to the other before he'd caught up with the dog and untangled the garbage bag twisted around his back leg. The kitchen was the worst. Julius had managed to dump most of the wet garbage there before escaping and dragging the shredded bag through the house.
His initial intention last night had been to ignore the mess and let Thomas look after it when he got ahold of him -- if he ever got ahold of him. However, that was before he'd gone down to the kitchen to get some water for Leigh when she woke up. Stepping into the room, his foot had landed on some slippery muck and went out from under him, and he found himself lying in the gooey, rotting leftovers that coated the tile floor. Marguerite had apparently decided to empty the refrigerator before she left. Spread across the floor was spaghetti, some sort of stew, a rice dish or two, and what he'd assumed was some sort of chili.
He had rolled in the disgusting mess as he repeatedly tried to regain his feet and failed. Everytime he got halfway to his feet and found them sliding out from under him, he cursed his niece, nephews, and their mates. Marguerite didn't generally eat. However, her children had done so since finding their mates. He wasn't sure why, but it was one of the first signs of a lovesick immortal. He himself hadn't eaten since the death of his wife and children during the fall of their homeland. However, it appeared Marguerite had been having her children over and feeding them when they visited, hence the leftovers.
Once he'd finally managed to get himself up out of the mess, he had stripped off his shirt, shoes, and socks. He'd washed the muck out of his hair and off his hands, and then -- rather than risk getting anything else dirty while he cleaned -- had simply kept his already filthy pants on, donned the apron, the rubber gloves, and then found and wrapped a kerchief around his hair to prevent anything from splashing into it while he worked. After catching a whiff of the rancid garbage he was about to clear away, he had to fetch a second bandanna to wrap around his face in the hopes it would block the worst of the smell.
The better part of the evening and night had passed as Lucian divided his time between cleaning up the mess Julius had made and running upstairs to change the blood bag in Leigh's IV. He'd also checked in with Mortimer and Bricker, to learn they were working with Bastien to track Morgan and the Donny fellow. They'd checked the ID on everyone in the house that day, and Mortimer made a list for the council records. It was standard procedure. Now, Mortimer had given that list of names of rogues and victims to Bastien, who'd immediately set people to work watching the bank accounts and credit card activities of all the individuals.
Lucian hadn't been surprised to learn that there was activity on one of the credit cards. It belonged to a Bryan Stobie, one of Morgan's victims who had been dead when they'd arrived. He hadn't been a turn, but someone whom several of them had apparently fed on, killing him in the process. Yet his credit card was still being used. Whenever a new charge came through, Bastien called Mortimer and Bricker and reported it, and the men were following that trail. So far there was a rental car and several restaurant and gas charges on it. Morgan had moved up through northern Kansas and into Missouri, apparently heading north toward Canada.
Lucian's instincts told him the man was heading their way. The protective way Morgan had cradled Leigh in his arms as he carried her out of the van and into the house made him think the rogue's interest in her was more than that of a sire who had turned her to please Donny, as the conversation they overheard in the house suggested. If he was right, it meant Morgan might become a problem. However, he knew they were still far enough away that it wasn't an urgent issue. The smelly and dangerous mess in the kitchen had held more import at the time, and he'd tu
rned his attention to that.
After several more attempts to contact Thomas, Lucian had been forced to wash the hall floor, and finally the kitchen. He was halfway through when he recalled his intention to take water and perhaps some food upstairs to leave for Leigh in case she woke, which was why the floor was only half cleaned. Cleaning the other half wasn't an attractive prospect.
Julius shifted beside him and whined when Lucian bent a glare his way.
"Yeah, you know you messed up, buddy," he muttered, and walked over to kneel by the pail. Reaching into the cold, dirty water, he retrieved the sponge, wrung it out and bent once again to the tiresome business of cleaning the floor. He was still at it ten minutes later when the dog walked over and began to nose the pail.
"Julius," Lucian said in a warning tone.
The dog paused, glanced at him, then nosed the bucket again, as if telling him he should empty it and get fresh water. Lucian wasn't in the mood for criticism.
"Keep it up and I'll put you outside," he threatened.
Julius peered at him with his big brown eyes, then nosed the bucket again.
"That's it. " Dropping the sponge in the bucket, Lucian stood and moved to open the door that led out to the backyard, then pushed the screen door open as well.
"Come on. Out you go," he said firmly, and Julius nearly knocked him over in his excitement to get outside.
"Stupid dog," Lucian muttered as he returned to his knees on the floor. He'd just wrung out the sponge and begun to swipe it over the floor when the door to the hall opened behind him, slamming into his butt. Jerking forward with surprise, he knocked the pail with his arm and sent it tipping onto its side.
"Oh, sorry," Leigh gasped behind him as Lucian stared at the dirty water running in a large wave across the floor.