Marina's Awakening (Seduced By Shadows Book 2)

Chapter Three

As it turns out, my knight in shining armor is more of a tweed-wearing, book-toting scholar. A historian with a hero complex. I suppose beggars can’t be choosers. I guess nothing screams ‘savior’ like a man armed with a library card.

Gabriel leads me to his apartment, which is only a short ten-minute walk from the hospital. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter along the way, giving me little facts and stories about Tampa and its history. The weather was nice when we left—not too hot, not too cold—but by the time we get back to his place, it has begun to drizzle, sending droplets of rain bouncing off the concrete and cobblestones.

He unlocks the door to his apartment building and then waits for me to step inside first. It”s a modest building with well-kept landscaping out front and an iron fence surrounding the small yard. I don”t know why it should surprise me that Gabriel would live in a place like this. As he explains, he teaches remote classes for the university, specifically the late middle ages, which is ironic considering that”s when vampires were at their prime.

He”s quite handsome, with his tanned complexion, dark hair, and brown eyes, but it”s more than just that. I think there”s something else to him—something kind. Maybe it”s the way he speaks, almost wistful and dreamy, or how he pauses every so often to make sure I”m okay before continuing his stories. But when he isn”t talking, there”s a sort of brooding intensity that makes my insides tingle. I bet under that cardigan of his is a sculpted physique waiting to be revealed. He seems so intellectual, and as his lips move, I have a sudden urge to roleplay student and teacher.

Whoa. That was out of left field. I guess the high libido that comes with being a vampire has stuck around in some form even if everything else has changed. I bite down on my lip, wondering what might happen if he just grabbed me, shoved me up against the wall, and kissed me until my knees buckled.

I shake my head, trying to clear away these strange thoughts. He”s helping me out because he”s a good person—because he wants to. There”s nothing more to it than that. I don”t know much about him other than he lives here, teaches at the university, and he seems very familiar somehow, like I”ve met him before. I shouldn”t be fantasizing about jumping into bed with the guy already.

”Come on,” he says as he opens the door to his unit. ”I know you must be starving.”

The small living room is furnished with a couple of old couches, an end table with a lamp, and a coffee table holding stacks of books. There are no TVs or stereos anywhere in the place. He probably uses the Internet for all his video chats for his classes. His place is so plain and ordinary, but there”s also this feeling of comfort that seems to emanate from every surface. It feels safe—like home.

He offers me the couch while he goes to the kitchen to make something to eat. There are piles of papers scattered around, each covered in scrawling handwriting. Maps are pinned up on his corkboard that”s hanging where most people would hang a television. All the writing looks like scribbles, except one large section in the center that appears to have been underlined by hand with black marker. It reads: Vlad the Impaler: Vampire???

Well, that”s unexpected. Based on how he looked at me in the hospital when I slipped up, I thought Gabriel might be one of those guys who believes vampires don”t exist, but here he is studying one of the oldest myths in history. It feels strange that this man, who is helping me out so much already, has read my life story. No, that”s not right. My species” life story. Maybe he isn”t quite as normal as I initially thought.

He comes back from the kitchen, carrying a plate of cheese and crackers, which he sets down on the coffee table before taking a seat across from me. ”I hope this will do,” he says. ”I don”t keep much food in the house usually. I order a lot of takeout. I”ll run to the grocery store in a bit.”

”It looks amazing.” The thought of having actual human food makes me queasy. I haven”t eaten anything other than blood since I was turned into a vampire. Of course, when you drink blood daily, your body becomes used to it pretty quick and any regular old meal tastes bland in comparison. Still, it feels strange to sit there staring at it for so long without eating a single piece.

The two of us eat the cheese in silence. He has the decency to give me time to think while I chew each bite carefully, trying to process my situation. I look up again at the maps tacked on the wall—each one different but similar enough that I can make out what they all seem to have in common: Dracula. The Vampire Count. They even go as far back as the 1400s.

”You have a thing for vampires? I mean, a scholarly interest in them?” My voice comes out quieter than intended, like I”m afraid someone might be listening in on our conversation from the next room.

He nods. ”In a sense. I”ve studied the subject pretty thoroughly over the past few years. We have a group here, well, a gang, who believes that there are actually vampires walking around. They”ve been kidnapping people and trying to ”cleanse” them. I wondered what all the fuss was about, then I wound up down a rabbit hole.” His tone is light, joking, but there”s something else beneath it—something more serious. He pauses to take another cracker, his eyes on the maps on the wall. ”They keep the most interesting documents. Even managed to snag one of their leader”s journals. There are things in those pages that don”t make sense, like...” He makes some kind of sweeping gesture with his hand.

I set my cheese aside on the plate and cross my legs. My shoulder still hurts from the impact of the car, but I want to hear him out. ”Like?”

”Well, the idea of vampires and what they really were before we started calling them such. They were called Vamipre, which means blood drinkers. The idea has its roots in several different mythologies and religions over the years.”

”So, they”re not real,” I say flatly, already feeling like this conversation is a waste of time.

He shakes his head. ”Not according to everything I”ve read and seen. It”s all speculation, I guess. Although there are some very strange documents in those books that make it difficult to ignore the possibility. One example would be these symbols called sigils. In alchemy, they have specific meanings—ideas of reincarnation and transformation. Most people wouldn”t associate that with something from ancient Rome or Egypt, but the more you look into it, the more you find connections between every single myth and story about them.”

I tilt my head to the side, looking at him curiously. ”Have you ever met someone who believes they”re a vampire? I mean, actually seen one?”

He shakes his head again. ”No, not for myself. But this group, the Shadow Extractors, they believe in it so much they”re willing to kill for it. That”s how these things start. Once you get people on your side, once you convince them there are supernatural beings out there, then... Well, then the lines between good and evil begin to blur, and sometimes the two become indistinguishable. I mean, even if they were real, they aren”t monsters, per se. At least, I don”t think so. Victims of circumstance who are just trying to survive. It isn”t their fault that we see them as something evil when in reality—”

I don”t know why I do it, maybe it”s the way he sees what I am, or what I was, as something more than just an animal in need of being destroyed. Maybe I want him to understand me, because I can”t deny that he seems genuine—that I like him. Either way, something settles into my body like a shadow, my throat goes dry, and I reach forward and grab him by the front of his sweater, pulling him toward me with a sudden burst of strength. He”s caught off guard, and he drops the cracker from his hand. His eyes widen when our mouths collide.

At first, he”s tense and rigid against me, but then he relaxes, kissing me back. His arms wrap around me as if trying to steady himself, his lips moving softly over mine, bringing waves of desire to the surface. When his tongue brushes my bottom lip, I open for him, letting him in. A small moan escapes my mouth when I taste his breath on mine. My entire body tingles with arousal, and what”s left of my vampiric nature takes hold. I can”t help myself.

I shove him backward onto the couch so that I”m straddling his hips and kiss him harder. My fingers find their way underneath the hem of his shirt, feeling his warm skin beneath my touch, and it”s just as firm as I imagined. He runs a hand through my hair while the other rests on my waist, holding me close. We move against one another, the friction between us creating delicious sensations.

As a vampire, this is the part where I would drink from my victim”s neck. I press my teeth into his throat, eager to feel his pulse beating beneath the surface. My body goes on autopilot—my senses taking over—and suddenly I have no control over anything anymore.

Gabriel gasps out my name and tries to push me away. ”Marina,” he groans, and the sound of him saying my name only drives my hunger higher. There”s nothing else in my world but him and the feeling of his skin beneath my lips. But then something snaps inside me, and I stop, releasing my hold on him. He”s panting heavily, looking at me in alarm like I just turned into some kind of monster in front of him.

It isn”t until I feel a trickle of blood down my chin that I realize what I”ve done. I put my hand up to my mouth, feeling for the fangs that still aren”t there. With my flattened teeth, I did little more than graze the surface of his flesh, but he”s bleeding nonetheless. My eyes widen in horror as I see the look of fear on Gabriel”s face. I grab a napkin from the table beside us and try to wipe away the traces of crimson liquid staining his skin.

He grabs my hands and pulls them away before wiggling out from under me and moving back to the far side of the couch. ”What was that?” he asks, trying to make sense of the situation. He brings his fingers to the wound on his neck and presses hard against it with one palm.

”I”m sorry,” I say, my voice sounding hoarse. ”I didn”t mean...” I let the words trail off into nothingness as the gravity of what happened sets in.

Gabriel shakes his head, but he doesn”t move from the corner of the couch—instead keeping his distance from me, like I might leap at him again at any second. ”Why? What did you just do?”

My insides coil with guilt and shame. Why did I kiss him? Why did I let myself lose control? It was wrong—so wrong. The one person who is willing to help me after what happened, and I attack him like some sort of wild animal. After that display, the very least I can offer him is the truth. No matter how crazy it makes me sound.

”I”m a vampire,” I answer simply. ”Well, I used to be a vampire. I”m still working out what I am now.”

His mouth opens slightly like he wants to speak, but then closes again without making a sound. His eyes are still wide, like they might pop right out of his skull. This is it. He must think I”m crazy. Maybe I should just go. Now while I have the chance. But what else is there to do? I don”t know this city well enough to find somewhere else to hide.

He finally shakes his head like he thinks the gesture might make sense of my confession. ”Vampire?” He scoffs. ”I was afraid of this. Look, Marina, whatever that guy in black told you, you”re just a woman. Vampires aren”t real—”

”They”re very much real,” I say, feeling myself get defensive. ”We exist. It”s part of who I am—what I used to be. And I guess some of my less contained instincts are still intact, because I couldn”t help myself when I kissed you and the rest was habit, I guess.”

His gaze goes unfocused, his face going pale, and he glances down at the wound on his neck. ”So, if you were a vampire, how did you turn back to human?”

I flop back, covering my face with my hands. ”I don”t know!” I wail. ”One minute, I was walking around the streets of Venice looking for dinner, and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor of that hotel covered in blood.” My voice cracks on the word ”blood”.

Gabriel moves closer, resting his hand over mine, prying them away from my face so that we can talk eye-to-eye. ”Look, Marina, I”m not saying this because I think you”re a freak or anything, but maybe it would be a good idea if you got checked out by the hospital again. They said there wasn”t any trauma to your head, but maybe they missed something. You know, like bleeding on the brain or—” He stops himself when he sees the look of horror on my face.

”Bleeding on my brain? Why?” I gasp.

He shakes his head quickly, like he regrets ever letting that slip out. ”No, nothing like that. That”s not what I meant. I”m worried for your health is all. We don”t want to take any chances.” His tone is casual now, but his words are rushed, like he”s trying to backpedal. It”s too late though. The damage is already done.

I get up from the couch and move toward the front door, feeling trapped in the small apartment. This isn”t going as well as it did when I first came into this place. Gabriel called me crazy—he was right about that much. No one would believe me even if I wanted to go to the police with my story. They”d lock me up, and the last thing I need right now.

”Marina,” Gabriel says softly, trying to stop me.

But I ignore him.

”Please, Marina.” He grabs me by the wrist, turning me to face him.

I shove him off, tears filling my eyes. ”Thank you for everything, but I think I”m better off on my own.” Then I rush out the door and make my way down the street at a quick pace. As much as I don”t want to admit it, Gabriel might be right. There has to be something seriously wrong with me.