Chapter Three

** Ana **

As a youngling, I wasn't yet allowed outside without an escort, and since all the Elders were busy trying to keep other younglings from ripping each other apart, I was resigned to staying indoors and wandering the corridors of the huge, old country house I had learned to call home.
The floors were made from ancient wooden boards that creaked at the slightest pressure, the walls papered in shades of maroon and beige with flowery patterns. Attempts had been made to bring the house into the modern day, such as with the shiny chrome kitchen and the flat-screen TV in the parlour.
But the place had a feel of immeasurable oldness. As if it had been standing for centuries, and had seen too many lives inside it to care anymore who occupied its cold rooms. Somehow, ridiculously, that made me sad – sad for the house. It had probably once been home to a lovely family, the corridors filled with the laughter of children and the smell of cooking. Now, it was home to monsters.
Shaking myself from those saddening thoughts, I wondered where Christian had gotten to. He rarely left me to my own devices – I thought perhaps he worried about me overmuch. He was somewhat protective, which was both sweet and a little discomfiting.
After all, I was hardly younger than him in vampire terms; we both were equally strong. Vampirism, apparently, did not pay any attention to sexist evolutionary traits. Men and women were on even footing in every way. Only age made a difference to strength, both mental and physical.
Bored and curious, I decided to go looking for Christian. I checked the parlour, the kitchen, even the Day Rooms, but he was nowhere to be seen. Miffed, I returned to the top floor and waited by the glass balcony doors. I watched the stars spinning across the sky in slow motion, and opened my senses as the younglings were taught.
Suddenly, I could feel the lightest draft of air on my skin and the intangible Glow of unlife that vampires emanated. I could smell the distinctive scents of every vampire in the vicinity and the perfume of the roses on the table by the front door. I could hear the hum of the old water pipes embedded in the walls, and taste the stale blood on the breath of the younglings.
I closed my eyes and tried to focus as the Elders had said, to pick out one scent, one Glow. My senses narrowed on one youngling, my mind building an image from the scent and the Glow – male, a few months older than I in vampire terms, but dark haired. Not Chrisitian.
I tried again, this time pinpointing a male younger than I, but with auburn hair two shades darker than Christian's. I huffed in frustration. It would take me hours to find him this way. I would just have to wait for him to find me.

"Rise and shine, my darling Ana."
I opened my eyes, Christian's soft voice echoing inside my coffin. Instantly, I was flooded with a storm of emotion – relief, joy, anger. Sitting up, I shoved off the lid, and turned my attention to the corner where he lurked. At the sight of him, all the anger I had acquired through the night while I waited and waited for him, searching the house three times in case I had missed him hiding in a shadow somewhere, disappeared like morning fog burned off by the sunrise.
He was as beautiful as ever, though slightly disheveled. His usually crisp shirt had a wrinkle in it by the collar, the cuffs unbuttoned and hanging loose around his slim wrists. His auburn hair was damp, as if he'd showered just moments before coming to wake me. His scent was stronger too – the warm steam had opened his pores, bringing his scent to me on tendrils of heat. Fresh and woodsy, like cedar wood and lemongrass, it soothed me down to my bones.
Drawn to him, I stepped out of my coffin. The floor was cold and gritty under my bare feet, and Rafe held out a bottle of blood to me. I took it, but my hunger was overwhelmed by my need to be near him, to touch him. I hadn't realized how badly I craved his presence until he had been gone last night, leaving me alone for hours.
I laid down the bottle of blood and stood. My left hand came up of its own volition, and his mouth curled in the most peaceful, satisfied way as my fingertips brushed his cheek. His eyelids fluttered closed, and he laid his hand over mine. His skin was slightly rough with dark stubble.
Then I was in his arms, my forehead pressed to his chest. "Where were you last night? I missed you."
He sighed deeply, his chest moving under my ear though he didn't breathe. He was so solid, a wall of perfectly carved flesh. His hands were spread lightly on my back, holding me to him, and I felt a sense of utter completion, of home, of belonging came over me. "Oh, Ana. My Ana."
There was such longing, almost despair in his voice as he said my name. I pulled back and looked up into his face. There was a sadness in his eyes that disturbed me. I wanted to make it go away – I wanted him to smile, that beautiful smile of his. "What? What's wrong?"
He bent his head, touching his forehead to mine, and whispered, "Nothing is wrong, my darling. I just wish…"
I knew what he wished, because I wished it too, and I was sick of wishing. I was tired of playing this game. I'd been falling in love with Christian bit by bit for months. He was my only friend and confidant, a constant presence to protect and soothe me. His beauty, his gentleness, his old-fashioned manner…everything about him was seductive to me.
I reached up, my fingers stroking across his cheekbones. His bronze lashes cast shadows on the creamy skin below his eyes, strands of auburn hair hanging loose over his brow. I could see the smallest creases around his mouth, the different shades of green in his eyes, a handful of tiny brown freckles on his nose. My chest constricted with the aching need to kiss him, an unbearable pressure.
But just as I lifted myself on my toes, my eyes closing, he snatched my hands away from his face. I stumbled back in surprise, and hurt. I stared at him, grasping my hands to my chest. His jaw was set, his eyes blazing. "No," he growled.
My heart raced. I was startled by the dark vehemence in his voice. He'd never raised his voice to me before, nor handled me so harshly. There was an edge to him, his posture. For just a moment, I was afraid. Of Christian. It was so confusing. "I'm sorry," I breathed. "I…I'm sorry."
With tears in my eyes, I fled the room. I didn't care that I wasn't dressed, or that I hadn't fed. I just needed to escape, to get away from Christian and his rejection.

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