Chapter Fourteen:
Vlad woke that evening with a strange feeling in his gut. He couldn't explain what had caused it; only that it made him restless and on edge. He felt like a children's toy that had been wound too tightly, shaking with potential energy and ready to shoot wildly across the room the moment it was released.
The anxious feeling gave way to annoyance when he passed Alec's quarters and saw carnage through the room's open door. Two bodies, male and female, were draped negligently across the bed, dressed only in jagged wounds and fresh blood. Vlad wrinkled his nose against the rancid stench of death.
"Alec!"
Typical, just typical. Leave it to Alec to foul his own bed. The man – if such a term still applied to Alec – was concerned with only two things and, when he had gotten those, anything that remained was someone else's problem. Usually Vlad's, since he was fool enough to actually care if his companion's antics brought an angry mob to their door.
Do I?
Vlad gave himself a mental shake. Yes, he cared. He cared because, somewhere, Theresa was walking around in the world and, as long as she did, he wanted to be part of that world.
It never got any easier, did it? How many times had she come back to him? Twenty? Thirty? Vlad wasn't sure he wanted to remember the exact number.
He wished he didn't have to remember at all.
He didn't want to remember the time Theresa, dark-haired and dark-eyed, came as a slave from war-torn, desert lands. Or the time, mousy and shy, she had been on a holy pilgrimage when their paths crossed. He especially didn't want to remember the time Theresa, haunted for years by visions she couldn't understand, rushed at him with a stake in her hand and a fire fueled by fear in her eyes.
Each time Theresa had returned to Vlad, it had broken him. He had learned to dread her return, even as he longed for it because every time – every single time – the moment of joyous discovery had been quickly and brutally overshadowed by inescapable tragedy. No matter where Theresa came from, regardless of the skin she wore, their relationship always ended as suddenly as it had that first time. It was his curse.
That, and the damned blood crawling sluggishly through his ancient veins.
Theresa will come back to you, if you wait long enough.
Vlad slammed Alec's door shut with such force that the frame splintered. The door swung inward again, mocking him.
You can wait for her. You can wait forever, if that is what you wish…
Clenching his jaw tight against the howl of rage that tried to escape as memory assaulted him, Vlad turned and stalked away from Alec's blood-soaked room. He should never have sought out his father that fateful night; should never have accepted his birthright.
Vlad definitely didn't want to remember the night he had been forced to watch as fire had consumed Theresa, or the sound of her-
voice?
As if summoned by his thoughts, Theresa's voice drifted across the monastery. It struck Vlad like a physical blow. He stopped dead, grabbing a nearby wooden beam for support.
No. No, it can't be.
Theresa couldn't be there. Not in Romania, not at the monastery.
Please, God, don't let this be real. Let her be safe, thousands of miles from here.
But God wasn't interested in the prayers of a monster.
Vlad all but flew across the grounds. He reached the courtyard in time to see Alec step from the shadowy archway that led from the stables and approach the small group of people gathered near the monastery's entrance. One of the figures was a tiny woman whose riotous curls made up for any lost height. She stared up at a tall man in a rumpled business suit who made angry gestures with his hands as she berated him. The other was…
"Theresa Jennings!" Alec's voice boomed, annoyingly cheerful as he embraced her. Vlad stiffened at the sight, itching to plant something sharp and nasty in his companion's chest. Theresa also went rigid at his touch, which pleased Vlad more than it should have.
If Alec noticed her discomfort, he ignored it, releasing Theresa to greet the man that accompanied her. Vlad recognized him from the art gallery but couldn't remember the man's name – not that he tried very hard.
"Timothy," Alec continued, taking the man's hand. "I'm very happy to see you again." His voice was so full innuendo that Vlad was surprised not to see it dripping down Timothy's designer suit jacket.
Vlad thought of the gallery owner's possessiveness toward Theresa the night they'd met and decided that there was one body, at least, he wouldn't mind having to dispose of.
"I don't believe we've met," Alec continued, turning to the other woman. He raised her hand to his lips before saying, "I'm sure I would remember someone as attractive as you."
The curly-haired woman ducked her head at the compliment, another victim of Alec's well-practiced charm.
"Michelle Garcia," Timothy supplied, reluctantly performing the introduction. "One of my employees." His tone left no doubt about the nature of their relationship.
"How was your flight?" Alec asked conversationally.
Timothy and Michelle exchanged a look at that, but it was a Theresa that answered. "Not good."
Michelle took her colleague's hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Theresa doesn't like to fly," she explained.
Timothy opened his mouth but quickly shut it again when Michelle shot him a warning glare.
There was something more, Vlad thought, something other than a fear of flying. Whatever it was, he was certain it had something to do with Theresa. She wouldn't look at the other two.
"What a shame," Alec said. "I find flight so exhilarating. But," he added, glancing in Vlad's direction with a mischievous look on his face, "like you, I hate to fly in airplanes."
Enough!
Vlad stormed across the courtyard, swiftly putting himself between Vlad and Theresa.
"Brother!" Alec said with exaggerated cheerfulness. His eyes flashed dangerously as he said, "There you are. We have visitors!"
What are you playing at? The silent message was sent on a wave of outrage. It went unanswered.
Alec merely raised an eyebrow and said, "You remember Theresa Jennings?"
Though he told himself not to look at her, that nothing good could come from it, Vlad found himself turning anyway. His undead heart thumped heavily once then swelled so quickly at the sight of her that it nearly exploded out of his chest.
Her eyes were wide, yet Theresa didn't look surprised to see him. Vlad thought of the strange feeling that he had awoken to and realized that it had been her. His body knew that Theresa was nearby, even before he knew she was nearby. His soul knew.
His soul had always known.
"Vlad," she breathed, "I-". Whatever else Theresa was going to say was swallowed up by more introductions that Vlad neither needed or wanted.
Vlad didn't hear a word of it. The woman before him was his entire world. He was both horrified and overjoyed to see her there, in his home. Part of Vlad wanted to send her far, far away, where she could be safe from… well, him. The other part wanted to sweep Theresa up in his arms, carry her straight to his room, and-
It took Vlad a moment to realize that everyone was staring at him. He shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny – and for… other reasons – as he said, "Sorry, what?"
Alec's look was amused, as if the other man could guess Vlad's thoughts. Hell, he probably could.
"I was just saying," Alec told Vlad, "that you would be happy to show our guests to their rooms."
To their rooms? Did Alec really imagine that Vlad would allow him anywhere near the place Theresa slept?
"No."
Theresa frowned but Alec spoke before she could.
"But of course you will," he said, raising his eyebrows in a silent challenge. "Our guests have come a long way and are in need of rest."
No, Vlad repeated silently. He wrapped the thought in venom before sending it to Alec. In response, the other vampire filled Vlad's head with mocking laughter.
Vlad caught Theresa's eye. "There's a village, not far from here," he told her, "with an inn. You'll be-" safer "-more comfortable there."
"Nonsense!" Alec interjected. "The inn may be quaint," he conceded, "but it can't compete with the priceless artifacts and medieval architecture the monastery offers."
Vlad wasn't sure whether he could trust himself to touch Theresa, but he did know that he didn't trust himself not to do something stupid if she slept under the same roof. Desperate, Vlad took hold of Theresa's arms as he said, "You'll prefer the inn."
A thrill ran through him at the touch. He wondered if Theresa had felt it too. It was impossible to tell. She quickly stepped away, breaking Vlad's hold. "Come on," she said to her companions. "We'll stay at the inn."
Timothy looked ready to argue but the tiny woman called Michelle silenced him with a glare. Vlad offered to call them a taxi while Alec, annoyed that things hadn't gone his way or simply bored (quite possibly both,) promised to see the trio the next day and wandered off. Theresa didn't look at Vlad again as they gathered their things to make the long trek down to the road.
Vlad watched their progress from the monastery's entrance. He made sure they were safely ensconced in the taxi before, filled with murderous intent, he went in search of Alec.