2. The Warrior

Seven hundred and thirty-two years on this planet is a long time. You’d think I would have seen enough to satisfy me for a lifetime, but I haven’t. I can’t get enough of this ever-changing world, and one of my favorite things is to insert myself around the humans that inhabit it. That’s why I find myself in the general store today, slinking through the aisles until I discover the source of the most wonderful scent I’ve ever known.

She is beautiful.

Thick and wavy auburn hair rolls down her shoulders, and her pale skin is spotted with freckles. I watch her study the wine with such care and precision. Her eyes flick to a human male standing by the beer, loading a cart with cases. She calls, asking his opinion, and he says nothing.

She flinches, her lips curve downward and her brows knot together. Her beautiful face that should be smiling is instead twisted with a deep sadness. Something coils inside of me like a cobra. My blood boils and bile rises in my throat. How can he be so fortunate to earn the attention of such a creature and then ignore her?

As she places multiple bottles of wine in her cart, I laugh to myself. Looks like she is in for a long weekend that she might prefer to forget.

Centuries of practice makes me excellent at being invisible, so I go unnoticed even as I stalk my quarry through the store. I study her as she fills her cart with food items, taking in her face as she makes each decision. Her lips part, revealing two large front teeth. The corners of my mouth ticked upward. She looks like a little chipmunk.

I am behind her for the briefest moment, close enough to reach my hands out and weave them through her coppery hair if I want. I’d love nothing more than to wrap my arms around her, twist my fingers into her tresses and kiss her soft pink lips. But I resist. She isn’t mine.

Yet.

I am drawn to this human who smells like honeysuckle and fresh paper.

The man she is with is hers. His scent is all over her: Hopps and cigarette smoke.

I sigh. If I were a weaker man, I would destroy him and indulge in this pull I have toward the human woman. They must be staying nearby. I could compel him away…

That isn’t honorable— if nothing else, I still maintain my honor.

I used to be a knight once upon a time.

That was before Leland, before my family, before I was truly born.

Before I was made a vampire.

The name given to my kind long ago, and ever since I was turned, I have thoroughly enjoyed my life as one. There is something to having immense strength, fantastic hearing, and sight. Every sense is at peak perfection. I am practically indestructible, able to bend the wills of mortals, and being immortal was quite a perk.

It is also lonely.

Days bleed into months, bleed into years, bleed into centuries. Time moves so slowly when you have an infinite amount of it. Even slower when you’re alone. I have my family, but no one to call mine.

Our home in the Catskills is usually tranquil. The odd traveler here and there, but we are deep enough that tourists wouldn’t be camping that far out, and the locals are so spread out from us it is easy to be ourselves. When we stay in Callery, we have to be careful not to draw too much attention.

So I lurk, hovering by the cereal, watching the human woman search for her preference. The shelf between us hides my movements as they shadow hers, the boxes of cereal themselves blocking my face from view.

I want to hunt her, feed from her, bed her.

I have no idea why this pull to her is so strong, only that I have no desire to fight it.

A low growl is rasping in my throat at the thought of taking her in my arms and sinking my fangs into her sweet neck. I feel my body respond to the idea of being pressed against hers.

The unexpected shifting of a box reveals her glorious gray eyes to me. We are face-to-face.

She drops the box with a little yelp. Before I can stop myself, and faster than I should have in public, I am around the shelf, picking up her item and presenting it to her.

Waves of electricity pass between us, and I return the favor as she drinks me in. Her sleight frame is delicate and begging to be thrown around by me. There is a gentle curve to her slender hips, and I can only guess beneath her sweater is a pair of small perky breasts that would each fit entirely in my mouth.

She tries to apologize, her voice breathy and frightened. Not because I am a predator, but because she wants me. I offer an apology of my own for startling her, only for her to protest that she is ‘fine.’ The scent of arousal blooms as her eyes lock on mine, and I resist the urge to compel her to leave with me. Our skin grazes as she takes her item in hand.

It is like a flame engulfs me, forging a new man, bound to this human woman. I want to steal her, change, and keep her. I’ve never in my centuries of life felt this drawn to anyone before, human or vampire.

Impossible.

Have I found my mate in the general store? Have I truly felt the bond form as I hand her a box of frosted mini-wheats?

I reach for her, yearning to feel more of the heat from her skin. My arousal is plainly evident. If I could hold her close, steal her away, and be alone with her for just a moment, I can seal the bond, and she will be mine.

Forever.

A God-awful stench ruins the moment.

Her male.

He screams her name in rage.

Wren.

A little bird making sweet music for the world.

My little bird.

The name stitches itself on my heart, branding me as hers for all eternity.

Wren.

I could fall to my knees before her and swear myself to her service. I could beg for her favor. I could place my heart in her palms for her to do with as she wishes.

I could also tear him limb from limb for screaming at her. If I could take my eyes off her, that is.

Especially when he dares place his hand on her.

I want to rip him, shred him when I see the grasp he has on her. My hand is on him before I know what I’m doing, and when I speak, my voice comes out in a dangerous rasp. “It would be wise for you to let her go.” The male meets my gaze for just a moment, his courage faltering under the stare of a true predator. He releases my little bird and retreats after spitting out his insults.

She turns to run from me, even though I ask her to stay. I resist the urge to put compulsion behind my words, but barely. I feel my mind try to pull hers into mine, to take her will. Now though, she is triggering every instinct I have to chase her down, but I steel myself and instead move to the front of the store to better watch the events unfold.

Her human is in his car, and if I could compel him to leave her here alone, I would. Proximity is key. The most I can do is make the hairs on his neck stand up so he will look at me. I do, and I”m not ashamed to say I enjoy the fear I see within him. He does the first smart thing since they arrived at the store. He unlocks the car and lets her in. Their carts are to my right, and the smell of honeysuckle wafts over to me.

Wren’s bag.

I know it must hold her entire life, wallet, and personal items. Taking it from the cart, I rush outside just in time for them to peel away. She is shouting at him to stop so she can get her bag, but he ignores her, running off with my little human. My eyes narrow. I don’t like his temper.

If this hadn’t been so public, she would not be in his car right now.

Clouds above that have threatened to storm for the last few hours are finally making good on that promise.

No, this is the wrong time to have a temper with a fragile human in the car.

It doesn’t take much effort to follow them.

The storm overhead churns and begins in earnest as I make my way down the mountain, the little bird”s bag still in hand. I track their progress, growling when I notice he is going much too fast.

It isn’t long before the worst happens, and I watch as their car careens out of control and goes down the mountainside.

Fear streaks through me as I rush to follow. The sound of groaning metal and shattering glass is cut off by a plop into the water. Goose Lake has a hold of them now. The car is upside down and sinking fast. I hear coughing and sputtering and spy the male dragging himself from the water, head bleeding and looking like he was half drowned. That’s when I hear her.

“Spencer… Spencer!”

The fuck?

He’s left her!

“HELP!”

Wren’s plea for assistance flutters across my mind and through my ears. My pace falters only for a moment. I hear it distinctly from the car sinking into the lake below me. Faintly, but I hear it. How the hell do I hear it in my mind as well?

“HELP ME, PLEASE!”

The male is still alive but passed out on the shore, and somehow my honeysuckle human is sending her screams directly into my mind. Confused, I shake my head but quickly continue my trek down the mountain.

This isn’t normal.

Humans don’t have telepathy.

Vampires get a mental connection with their mates and their mates only. Never while that mate is still human. Typically, there is a heightened sense of attraction, like the spell we were under back in the store. This is most unusual.

I reach the lake’s edge, but the car is fully submerged. My little bird is nowhere to be seen on the bank. I scan the depths of the dark lake, and I see her. Arms extended above her head, eyes closed, as she slowly sinks deeper into the water.

No!

Have I lost her so soon?

A hole is carved in my chest at the thought of losing her. I can feel madness creeping into my brain. If she is gone, my entire reason for being is gone with her. I will devolve into a creature that can only feed and wander the shadows. I will embrace my baser instincts and everything that ever made me a person will be gone. I will be nothing more than an animal.

Shaking off the darkness working its way into my mind, I drop her bag, dive in, and quickly close the fifteen-foot distance. Grasping hold of her tightly, I swim upward, breaking the surface in no time.

Propping her head against my chest, I swim back to shore, taking great care with her delicate human form. I lay her body on the ground and listen for a heartbeat that isn’t there, and the darkness threatens me again. I push it away because she’s not gone for good, not yet.

She is beautiful, even in death.

She is mine.

And I refuse to let her go.

What a strange way to find my mate.

I place my hands on her chest, pushing down and pumping her heart for her. I stop and lower my lips to hers. I can taste her blood… It is unlike any blood I’ve had before.

Blowing into her lungs, I give her the air I don’t need and draw in only for her. I alternate between the two, pumping her heart and giving her rescue breaths. I place my lips on her for the third breath when I hear the first beat.

Pulling back, I watch as the woman who has claimed my soul sputters water. I assess her injuries as best as I can.

Her arm is broken, she is concussed, and I can smell the internal bleeding. Her face is battered and bruised, her nose broken. Likely the airbag. She’s lucky it didn’t break her neck. I push her hair away from her face. Even running at full speed, she won’t survive long enough for a doctor to help her. My blood could heal her.

Stuttering, her heart grows weaker. There isn’t enough fucking time. I run my hand through my hair, desperation growing as my mate’s life fades before my eyes. It took me over seven centuries to find her, and I will lose her in less than a day.

I can turn her…

I have to turn her.

My very existence is tied to her life.

I never had another option, no other decision to make.

I am already hers.

Time isn’t on my side, and if I am going to do this, it has to be now. It pains me to force it on her like this. We usually meet our mates out in the world, and they choose to join us for eternity. She has no such choice because I have to decide for her.

She stirs with a soft groan of pain. Her eyes open, and she struggles to focus before finding me.

“I’ve got you,” I say in a hushed tone. “I’m going to make sure you’re okay.” I pull her into my arms, cradling her. “You’re safe with me.”

The voice that answers is weak and strained. “You...” Her eyes flutter and then go still again.

I nuzzle my face against the side of her neck. Christ, she smells divine. Slowly my teeth sink into Wren’s flesh.

Fuck, she tastes like heaven.

I drink deeply, pulling her essence into me, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of her soul dancing through me. It is unlike any experience I’ve ever had when drinking from a human. Her heart slows, but it happens quickly, much too quickly. Wren is definitely on the brink of death.

Taking great care, I bite into my wrist and hold it to her mouth.

“Drink,” I say. Firm. Commanding.

She moans, her lips brushing against my skin, sending electricity through my body.

“Drink,” I demand, louder and unyielding, pressing my wrist against those soft lips. They part slightly, and I angle myself to ensure my blood would go into her mouth. Her heart is slower now, but she has to drink more if she is going to change successfully.

Growling in frustration, I pull my wrist away and tear deeper into my flesh with my fangs. Hitting an artery, I make sure I am bleeding quickly. I tilt her head back and let it pour down her perfect throat. Wren’s brows knit together as she coughs, sputters, and tries to kick away. A pang of guilt strikes my heart.

She is fighting because she doesn’t want this. Shoving it aside, there is no going back now. Either she will wake up and accept what happened, accept me, or she will hate me forever. As long as she still walks this Earth, I will take her however she is. Weak and injured from the trauma, it is nothing to overpower her, and I press my wrist down on her mouth, willing her to hurry.

“Drink,” my voice pleading now.

Finally, the switch happens.

She clutches my arm with her good hand and suckles in earnest. Hunger fills her as she takes my essence into her belly. She moans as she drinks like it is the sweetest nectar.

God help me.

The way she devours me, her soft lips pulling my very soul into her body and loving it, and a wave of relief pours into me. I know she will be okay now. “Good girl, Wren.” I let her take all she can, welcome her to have every drop as far as I am concerned.

Every successful turning has one thing in common. You know it will work when the human finally latches on like they want it. I press my body against hers, content to stay there until Wren takes all she needs of me until she fills every empty crevice of her body with me. Changing a vampire leaves us vulnerable, and weakened. With her injuries, she will drain me far more than the vampires I’ve turned before. I lean my forehead against her temple and whisper, “Stay with me.”

Wren.

My little bird.

Mine.

Her heart takes one last fluttering beat and then stops, lips releasing my wrist. I lay on the shore with her for a moment. Studying her, imagining what is to come. I pray to any being that could be listening that she will understand why it had to be this way.

That she won’t hate me forever.

Now that she is no longer drinking from me, I can take her home to complete the turning. Scooping her limp body in my arms and grasping the bag she had left behind, I rise to leave. Annoyance flashes through me as I remember her male, “Spencer,” on the shore behind me.

He did this to her.

He killed her.

Maybe not directly, but his irresponsible driving put her in this position, and then he left her to die. I could easily do the same and forget he exists.

My eyes dart to my little bird. I don’t think she would like that very much. I resolve to call for emergency assistance once I have her safe and secure at my home. If he dies before they get here, then that isn’t my concern.

I climb back up the mountainside, taking her directly to the home I share with my coven, my family.

Our home is technically a cabin, but it is a large and modernized one with eight bedrooms, a modest kitchen, a wide open living space, and even a private study. Most people assume it is a timeshare or vacation home, but I and several of my coven members have lived here for the last five years.

Most of them are out doing whatever they care to do, but Rolando, the first vampire I ever turned, is here doing whatever it is he does with our archives. He explained it to me once.

Something, something, digitize.

He raises a brow when he sees I have a woman in my arms but says nothing as I carry her upstairs. “Send an ambulance to Goose Lake. There’s been an accident.” That is all I tell him. Without wasting a second, I hear him on the phone with dispatchers. We have a full house with as many coven members as there are staying here. My room will have to do for my little bird.

Laying Wren down on my bed, I inspect her injuries. They are already mending as the turn from human to vampire takes place. Her nose appears to be no longer broken. The cuts and scrapes are healing before my eyes. I inspect her arm, setting it to ease the healing process. If mended incorrectly, we’d have to re-break it to set it right. Satisfied that the change is normal, I search my drawers for something that might fit her.

I am not going to leave my mate in those wet clothes. Glass clings to her sweater, with bloodstains on it and her pants.

Settling on drawstring sweatpants and a t-shirt, I quickly change Wren out of her grimy clothes and into something dry. I don’t pay attention to her body while I take care of her. There will be time for that later when she is awake and inviting me to look.

Until then, I will be a perfect gentleman.

It may have been some seven hundred years since I was a knight, but that did not change the fact that I pride myself on displays of chivalry.

Happy that my beloved is in clean and dry clothing, I comb through her hair, braiding it loosely. I finally cover her with a quilt and tuck her in. I am satisfied that Wren is as comfortable as I can make her.

Turning might take a day, maybe two. I will wait and watch over her until she opens her eyes again.

Until she comes back to me.

My sweet little bird.