14. Blessed Water
BLESSED WATER
Alex
Ihadn’t realised how much I wanted to drink Irene’s blood until she’d helped me walk along the alley.
The moment she’d touched me, I’d known that, if I’d travelled with her in the confined space of the carriage, I wouldn’t have been able to control myself. I would have fed from her. Whether she’d wanted it or not. Just the thought made me sick to my stomach.
That was why I’d sent her home.
Now that I lay in my bed, groaning and fighting the thirst, I forced myself not to leave the bedroom and search for her. Staying calm required all my energy, and my healing power was so slow that I might bleed to death.
Every part of my body ached and throbbed, but instead of quenching the thirst, the agony exacerbated it.
When the door opened, I smelt Darius’s spicy scent immediately and groaned in frustration, which didn’t make sense because I’d asked for him, but my body needed Irene.
“What the hell happened to you?” Darius studied me, concern etching his face.
“I need to feed.” Telling him about my sire could wait. “It’s urgent. I’m not healing.”
“And why didn’t you ask… Oh no.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. But from the arm, not the neck. And be gentle. And don’t leave any marks.” He paled as he lay down on the bed. “Hell’s bells. It’s so painful.”
I exhaled through my teeth. “I haven’t bitten you yet.”
“Be quick, but slow.”
“Darius.” My gums hurt. I was dizzy from pain and blood loss.
“And be—” He shouted when I bit his arm.
He clenched his fist tightly and released it, which helped pump blood into my mouth.
I drank with greedy sips. The magic in his blood left my tongue tingling as if I were drinking sparkling lemonade.
It was rich and flavoured like an old wine, but the fact he felt only pain and not pleasure added a bitter taste.
I grabbed his arm with my hands and kept drinking. With each sip, my body regained energy.
“Alex…” Darius’s voice sounded weak and distant. “Enough. I’m nauseous.”
My skin tingled, a sign that my wounds were healing quickly, thanks to his magic. But I wanted more.
“Alex, you bloody bastard!” He groaned. “Dammit!”
He sprayed me with something, and pain burst on my skin as it burnt. I leapt back and hit the wall with my back. Blisters grew on my hand, sizzling like lard melting in a hot pan. He’d used blessed water against me.
Anger turned my vision darker.
“I wasn’t finished.” My voice sounded deeper than usual.
He propped himself up on his elbows. “You drank too much.” He was panting.
“You sprayed blessed water on me.”
“My magic doesn’t work after you feed from me. What else was I supposed to do? Stab you with a silver dagger?”
I winced as smoke rose from my skin. We stared at each other for a long moment. Never in all the years we’d been friends had he resorted to blessed water to stop me. He’d asked me to stop and I hadn’t listened.
“I…I’m sorry. You did the right thing. I wasn’t myself.” I rubbed my aching temples. “Let me take care of the wounds.”
“Don’t start drinking again.” He held the bottle of blessed water like a weapon.
I approached him slowly not to frighten him, but I was in control. The frenzy of the thirst had gone. Mostly.
Closing the wounds required longer than usual. I had to lick the wounds for a few minutes before they disappeared.
Darius tensed. “Your healing power isn’t working properly.”
I said nothing and kept working on the wounds. When they were sealed, the skin remained red, not unblemished as it should have been.
He rolled the shirtsleeve down his arm and sagged back onto the pillow but watched me. “You must face the truth. You’re turning into a rogue.”
I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. It was still neat. “We can’t be sure of that. This situation might be temporary.”
“What happened in Whitechapel with Irene? She was shocked.”
“I met my sire.” I sat next to him, suddenly exhausted. “The Count of Bethlen. He attacked me. Well, I started it, to be fair. He’s ten times stronger than I, as you can see.”
“Bloody hell.” He sat upright. “The four-hundred-year-old vampire who’s looking for the love of his life?”
“Him. He’s stronger, faster, and more lethal than I am. And I think he’s the rogue. He told me he’s killing Rothbart’s minions because Rothbart killed my sister. He believes Odette was his wife. Ridiculous, innit?”
He fished a piece of chocolate out of his pocket. “Not at all. It makes a lot of sense.” He paused, eyes widening as if he was having an epiphany. “Of course. That’s why he turned you.”
“Maybe I’m stupid—don’t say anything,” I added when he opened his mouth. “But I don’t see the connection.”
“Rothbart killed Odette. Whether this is true or false isn’t important for now. What matters is that the count thinks it’s true and that he believes Odette was his reborn wife. That’s why he’s searching for the thug. And you are Odette’s brother, so he thought to give you a present by…”
“Turning me into a monster.” The last word came out as a hiss.
“I suppose it depends on the perspective.” He scratched his forehead. “I need to eat. Curse you.”
I rang for the butler. “I’m already cursed.”