Chapter Three

" H ere's the town website, see? Remember, you need to put in NY-dot-Local-dot-Gov, not dot com." Ingrid Anatol is the receptionist at the Pine Ridge Hospital Outpatient Annex—where I now work as a physical therapy coach. I'm doing an amazing job—considering I've only worked here for three days. With luck, at the end of next year, I'll be Dr. Bailey, and I'll be one of the physical therapists in charge.

Even though I've only been here three days at the PRH OA (as my pine green tee shirt says), I've decided that I like it here. The staff is efficient, and they take time to answer questions. No one treats me like the clueless new guy, so there's an instant positive.

Ingrid says things will get nuts by the middle of September. The local college and high school will be back, and team sports mean team injuries. She also pointed out that we're the chosen provider for the town's minor league hockey team, so we'll be seeing them in the fall, too.

As for the town—it isn't tiny enough to know everyone, but you learn the area fast. There's a busy little downtown with cute shops that my mom would drag my father into, the area where the hospital, big chain grocery store, fire department, and schools are, some housing developments, and then there's the campus. That's like its own little habitat. My apartment is right across from campus, kind of straddling worlds.

"Here's the Chamber of Commerce tab. That's where you're going to want to sign up for "New In Town" offers for local businesses."

I nod over her shoulder.

"Library events, click here. Community-wide events? Here. Apple Fest is in September. Pumpkin Fest is in October."

"Instead of Halloween?"

"No, Halloween festivities last like... four days. Kids have off from school on the actual day."

"Dang. You all love your pumpkin spice."

"Don't knock it until you try it," Ingrid laughs and opens up more tabs. "Your hospital ID gets you a discount at the gym in town, and you can use the campus library, cafeteria, and fitness center."

"I can? But I'm not officially enrolled yet. I mean, I've been accepted as a transfer student, but I have deferred enrollment until next semester." I need to work here for six months before the tuition reimbursement is activated, and I'm not risking a huge bill because I get laid off after five months and three weeks.

"You don't have to be. The university and the hospital are in partnership. We need each other. They send nursing and medical students here to intern, and we get use of the facilities. Quid pro quo." She winks at me, and I risk winking back.

She's one fine looking woman, all extra thick curves and long, light caramel brown hair that makes you want to wrap your fist in it while you're behind her and...

Oooh. I can't think like that. She works here. I work here. Nope. Not going down that rabbit hole.

She'd look so good with a little bunny tail on that big round—

"Behind The Pine Loft Coffee Shop on Pinecrest."

Crap. I zoned. "Uh. Sorry, what did you say was behind there?"

"The Night Market! It's a fun place to go, like an open-air mall, but everything is handmade or secondhand. Or local. It's just fun. Trust me."

Again, I want to ask her to show me around, particularly when she rises and retrieves her teal tote bag from beside her rolling office chair, hips swaying.

Be an enlightened, civilized man. What is wrong with you, Kevin?

Lonely. Horny. Free? Hours away from my parents, who are driving down to North Carolina tomorrow and won't be in my business for at least three glorious days...

"I think I'll hit that gym." I need to do something to get my energy out. "Night, Ingrid!" I head back to grab my book bag out of the staff lockers.

Not being around my parents constantly has been a nice change of pace. Having my own apartment with nary a roommate or roomate's inexplicably-suddenly-there-ex has been a joy.

But it's been a hectic week without a lot of fun. Ingrid's suggestions are all great for responsible Kev.

Kev who hasn't gotten any in three months is feeling like it's time to do something about that.

Job? Check.

Apartment? Check.

Girlfriend? Nope.

I dated off and on through college, and more often than not, I ended things because I realized it wasn't going to work out.

Let's be real. Steady guys who have their shit together attract crazy women who don't—and vice versa. I grew up with a double dose of crazy, two hyperactive pinballs in human form. I feel like I should send cards and flowers to the women who had the misfortune to date Calvin and Carter during their high school years.

Responsible Kev is writing the end of the "Have My Shit Together" playbook, and I want a woman on the same page so we can write a new chapter together. (Damn, that's good. I have to remember that. I'm going to use that at my wedding.)

I'm looking to buy, not to shop, as my dad would say. I'm tired of going one month, or three months, or even six months with a girl and realizing that we're in a groove, but our grooves never match up. I just want to find something that fits. I'm looking for mellow. Easy. Two people who slot together just right.

I close my eyes and lean against the locker.

I shouldn't think about things "slotting together." I meant it metaphorically, like her vibe matches mine...

But part of my anatomy is thinking about two bodies slotting together in the literal sense.

A part of me (a not-too-shabby part, by all accounts) says that I have one more round of "shopping" left in me. Like, what's the fun of having my own place if I never bring a woman over to hook up?

Nope. Nope, nope. This is a small town. Don't shit where you eat. Go to the gym. Hit the pool. Hit the heavy bag.

"Bye, Kevin! Have a great night! Call if you need anything." Ingrid waves as she exits, and I emerge with my bag in hand.

I stare at her as she walks away, round ass calling to me like a siren's song.

Damn. Forget the pool. I wanna hit that.

With a sharp press of my thumb into my thigh, I redirect my energy.

No. We are not playing stupid games and winning stupid prizes, like a meeting with HR during our first week here. Get in that pool, man.

I'M STARVING. ALMOST . I used what little strength I had to swim all the way downriver to Country Pines, the little fae-run motel that always provides whatever you need—and for once, there was no lonely traveler, no passing kelpie, not even a horny barnacle demon.

Now, I'm back closer to my "home turf," in a foul mood, and feeling desperate.

I'm about ready to break some of my cardinal rules. I'm sitting on a bench on the campus side of the river, watching the twilight take over the summer sky. The dorms are lit up tonight. Final cleaning. Last-minute maintenance. Tomorrow, students arrive. They move in, en masse, on Labor Day Weekend, and classes will begin on Tuesday.

Tomorrow, there will be hot hunks hanging their posters and lugging their luggage. All rippling biceps and roving eyes, checking out everything with a bra—or preferably without one.

It'll be the easiest lure I've ever had.

I can wait until tomorrow, can't I?

"Marina?"

My shoulders twitch. After this long alive, I'm able to sense energies. The figure behind me is a vampire. Powerful vampire. Good vampire.

I'd know his voice anywhere, anyway.

I sigh and turn. "Hi, Jakob."

Jakob Minegold is the soul of honor and decency. He's not a snack. His graying hair and lightly lined, regal face make him look far older than me, but if our real ages were known, I'm ancient in comparison.

"Hello, my dear. You look... pale. Even for you."

He means dull. Without my usual meals, I look like library paste instead of a moonbeam in human form. "Campus will be full soon," I whisper.

"I bought you this. You know Milo Angelakis, the metalsmith?"

I nod. In the paranormal community, almost everyone knows everyone else.

"He made this for Robbie and Charlotte." He holds a delicate little silver box on a chain, a dainty necklace. "It stores energy for her succubus side."

"Good for her. Charlotte is part human. I'm all rusalka. I don't think it would work for me, but thanks." I gently drape the necklace back over his hand. "You're very sweet, but first, I'd need something to put into it."

There's an uncomfortable silence. "I suppose—"

"No. Not you. You love your wife, even if she's not here. I don't take energy that belongs to someone else," I say with a small smile.

Jacob bows low and kisses my hand. "You are truly a wonderful woman. Marina... You are more than just a rusalka. You are an honorable, beautiful soul."

If I were stronger, I would laugh until I rolled around on the ground. Most people would call me a whore, but that's better than being a killer, right? They would call me an imitation of a woman, a monster in human form.

His arm slides through mine, and he helps me from the bench. "Where do you find your meals these days?" he asks softly.

"The gym. Jax Alley, if I'm well-fed enough to venture out on my own, that far from water for that length of time. The campus. I don't need to ‘feed' every day."

"Nor do I. Once a week, give or take."

"I tend to binge for the academic year," I admit, "and I'm on a diet in the summer."

"There are so many eligible men in town, handsome men. Humans. Monsters. Shifters! Why not consider looking for a mate and not a meal?" he presses.

I know he's speaking out of kindness, but there's a lot he doesn't understand.

"It wouldn't be fair to a human. I doubt they could keep up." I suppose I could be with an incubus, another demon that needs sexual energy as much as me. But, I know it wouldn't work. Our appetites would only drain us both.

"I think there are some ways that it could be overcome. My need to feed has been aided by science, why not yours?" Minegold encourages.

He has a point, but there's so much more to the story. "I'm ‘spoken for.'" I give him a grim smile.

Jakob blinks in surprise. "You are? Oh! I had no idea, my dear. I am so sorry, I am waffling on without knowing the facts. Who is your lucky intended?"

This time, I waste the energy on a laugh. "He's called Koshchei, and he's the overlord of all rusalka, the head demon that spawns us. All rusalkas belong to him. He is our father, if you will, and eventually, he will take handmaids to spawn with. He's a creature of regeneration, living and dying in cycles, mating and spawning in cycles, too. I don't love him. I hate him. He's half the reason rusalkas must kill. We need energy to live, but half of what we take goes to him. When he has enough stolen energy, he will return to a corporeal form on this plane. I've stopped sending him souls. I only take the sexual energy of willing men. It's enough to feed me, but not him. I won't help him rise again."

Minegold is grave, and his fingers tighten on my arm. "He is dormant now?"

"And will be for another century or so. By then, I'll have expired. My time will be over, and he won't claim me. Or... force anything out of me."

"Then why punish yourself? Why not find a mate, a spouse? Someone to love and cherish?"

Because no one would love and cherish me after knowing how many I've killed. How many more I've come close to killing. Minegold killed evil men to save helpless prisoners.

I killed because I couldn't resist draining every drop...

Even if I suspect Jakob knows the full truth, I don't confirm it. Instead, I shrug. "I spite him like this, while he can't do anything about it. Other rusalkas have shunned me, and I'm forbidden to go home." I pause for a minute. Icy seas. Black mountains with snowcaps that reflect in still lakes, frozen rivers where fishermen wait, tempting death and teasing us, begging us to tease them.

We were all lonely once.

There was someone, once, who took the loneliness away.

Thick, rough, red hands, windburnt face, and shaggy hair. A long blonde beard. Springy chest hair on corded muscles...

Two hundred years, and I see his face like it was yesterday.

He was the first one I let go...

The memory snaps as Minegold's foot comes down on a twig. "I'm banned from home for refusing to kill. I'm allowed to live—as long as none of my sisters cross my path and decide to curry favor with Koshchei by ‘harvesting' me for him."

"Marina! Surely not?"

"We're sisters. Not friends." Once, I had their companionship, before they found out what I'd done. I still love them. Finding freedom has shown me what they really are—miserable beauties, talented hunters—but all locked in Koshchei's relentless cycle.

With a shake, I force myself to speak if only to take my mind off the gnawing in my middle. "If I break any other of Koshchei's rules, I'll make it worse for my sisters who are still alive. The only ‘mate' a rusalka may ever have is Koshchei. Our kills, our bodies, and our souls belong to him."

Minegold stops and cocks his head, staring into my eyes. "My dear Marina... I will no more believe you are a meek little mouse than I will believe the moon is made of cheddar. This Koshchei sleeps for another century, and your kind has already shunned you. I think you're scared of giving yourself to someone in love. Afraid of the pain of it. Then they would have power over you. You, my beautiful, deadly one, are used to having all the power." His face twists and his voice fades to almost nothing. "It is the most beautiful, exquisite pain..."

God, I would love to ease that pain. And I've always imagined he would taste divine.

But he's right. He's usually right. "Jakob, go before I beg you to take me home. You can't be killed. You might like it underwater. It's such a soft, tempting bed." I give in just a little, letting my body press into his. He's all lines and angles, and I'm nothing but hills and valleys.

It's been so long, and I'm still looking for someone who fits, someone who... who feels just right, not just in bed, but in my head and heart as well, whatever is left of it.

"Poor darling. You really are hungry. Shall I take you to the gym?"

God, I'm pathetic. Jakob didn't even smirk. His look is pure pity.

"The gym in town just opened a pool," I say, going limp against him.

"Yes, yes. I know."