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Authors: Angelika Helsing
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channel that much sexual energy… I have no way of predicting what might happen. I’m not going to tell you it isn’t dangerous.”
“Will I be…?” Was there a word for what a vampire did to his victims? She remembered the shriveled remains of the guinea pigs she’d buried. “Will you drink from me?”
“Never. We’re here to cure our blood lust, not to indulge it.”
“What will happen to you if I agree to go through with the ritual?”
“Vampires don’t age as fast as humans do. For every ten human years, vampires can add on another ninety. But once human, I’ll live out the rest of my life like anyone else. I will die, like any other mortal.”
* * *
Jaden felt her startle in his arms. He knew she would need persuading. He knew she would need answers. And he knew in the end, she would agree to do the ritual, but that he would be the one making the sacrifice.
He loved her. Coveted her. And he would have to share her with four other vampires, all of whom had been handpicked to bring her to the greatest sexual ecstasy experienced by a human female.
“Why would you ever want that?” she said. “Why be mortal when you have the chance to live forever?”
He sighed. “I’m over two hundred years old, Delaney. I’ve done damn near everything. And there’ve been losses. Painful losses. There’s no natural progression to a vampire’s existence. Nothing to strive for. If you could be immortal, would you really want to?”
She turned away and went back to the fire. The smell of potatoes frying filled the air. “Maybe… No, I suppose not.”
“Being a rock star… Sometimes it’s just sad.”
The look she gave him betrayed her skepticism.
“I’m serious. You know how much I love the music. Can’t say that I love the business, though.”
“Is it worth dying for?”
“You’re worth dying for. And when you go someday, I see no reason to stay here without you.”
She looked up at him, her eyes full of love and also remorse. “I was wrong to leave you, Jaden.”
The scab was still there to be picked at. He kissed her upturned mouth, remembering that terrible night when Val had found them in the boathouse, and reminded himself why it was Delaney felt she’d had to run. He had long ago forgiven her, if there had been anything to forgive. She was his destiny. In two hundred and sixty-six years, she was the only woman he had ever truly loved.
Now, it was possible that she loved him too, despite knowing his true nature. The need for it burned inside him, as insistent as his need for her. She responded hotly to his kisses. She came alive in his arms. It was all that mattered—not Hollywood, not the ego-driven madhouse of being a celebrity, none of it. Just the moments like these, when he held the one thing that mattered: her.
When she drew away, she seemed to take a part of his heart with her, but he willed himself to be patient.
“I assume you still eat food?” she said with a glint of her old humor. “It’s not much, and it’s not what your chef makes you… You do have a chef, right?”
He felt a trifle embarrassed about the spoils of victory. If his frequent house parties were up to him, the only things to eat would have been pretzels and beer. “A chef, a housekeeper, a driver, a dog walker, a personal trainer, a personal assistant, a landscape architect, a pool boy, a PR agent and a manager.”
She blinked. “Wow.”
They ate out of the pan. Blue potatoes. He was surprised by how tasty they were. She painted a picture of her life there, her occasional clashes with the villagers. Many Andean men, seeking a better life for their families, went to Cusco to find work. Unable to navigate the strange new world of a big city, many got hooked on drugs, drink, gambling. She spoke of a woman named Amaru, of the difficulty in getting medical supplies, of finally understanding what had happened to all the guinea pigs.
“It’s tradition to keep garlic knots by the door,” she said.
“Will I be…?” Was there a word for what a vampire did to his victims? She remembered the shriveled remains of the guinea pigs she’d buried. “Will you drink from me?”
“Never. We’re here to cure our blood lust, not to indulge it.”
“What will happen to you if I agree to go through with the ritual?”
“Vampires don’t age as fast as humans do. For every ten human years, vampires can add on another ninety. But once human, I’ll live out the rest of my life like anyone else. I will die, like any other mortal.”
* * *
Jaden felt her startle in his arms. He knew she would need persuading. He knew she would need answers. And he knew in the end, she would agree to do the ritual, but that he would be the one making the sacrifice.
He loved her. Coveted her. And he would have to share her with four other vampires, all of whom had been handpicked to bring her to the greatest sexual ecstasy experienced by a human female.
“Why would you ever want that?” she said. “Why be mortal when you have the chance to live forever?”
He sighed. “I’m over two hundred years old, Delaney. I’ve done damn near everything. And there’ve been losses. Painful losses. There’s no natural progression to a vampire’s existence. Nothing to strive for. If you could be immortal, would you really want to?”
She turned away and went back to the fire. The smell of potatoes frying filled the air. “Maybe… No, I suppose not.”
“Being a rock star… Sometimes it’s just sad.”
The look she gave him betrayed her skepticism.
“I’m serious. You know how much I love the music. Can’t say that I love the business, though.”
“Is it worth dying for?”
“You’re worth dying for. And when you go someday, I see no reason to stay here without you.”
She looked up at him, her eyes full of love and also remorse. “I was wrong to leave you, Jaden.”
The scab was still there to be picked at. He kissed her upturned mouth, remembering that terrible night when Val had found them in the boathouse, and reminded himself why it was Delaney felt she’d had to run. He had long ago forgiven her, if there had been anything to forgive. She was his destiny. In two hundred and sixty-six years, she was the only woman he had ever truly loved.
Now, it was possible that she loved him too, despite knowing his true nature. The need for it burned inside him, as insistent as his need for her. She responded hotly to his kisses. She came alive in his arms. It was all that mattered—not Hollywood, not the ego-driven madhouse of being a celebrity, none of it. Just the moments like these, when he held the one thing that mattered: her.
When she drew away, she seemed to take a part of his heart with her, but he willed himself to be patient.
“I assume you still eat food?” she said with a glint of her old humor. “It’s not much, and it’s not what your chef makes you… You do have a chef, right?”
He felt a trifle embarrassed about the spoils of victory. If his frequent house parties were up to him, the only things to eat would have been pretzels and beer. “A chef, a housekeeper, a driver, a dog walker, a personal trainer, a personal assistant, a landscape architect, a pool boy, a PR agent and a manager.”
She blinked. “Wow.”
They ate out of the pan. Blue potatoes. He was surprised by how tasty they were. She painted a picture of her life there, her occasional clashes with the villagers. Many Andean men, seeking a better life for their families, went to Cusco to find work. Unable to navigate the strange new world of a big city, many got hooked on drugs, drink, gambling. She spoke of a woman named Amaru, of the difficulty in getting medical supplies, of finally understanding what had happened to all the guinea pigs.
“It’s tradition to keep garlic knots by the door,” she said.
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