CHAPTER SIX
Two days passed before Selene did much more than look out the doors of the small balcony. She found daytime bewildering. Not for the first time, Michael wondered what sort of life she had led. What possible good was a life focused solely on genocide? What value did either species have if their only purpose and only function he could see was that they took great pleasure in annihilating one another? Although she didn't say it, he knew she was grieving her fallen coven and she was at a personal crossroads. She spent countless hours silently studying patterns of sunlight and hardly bothered to look up when Michael brought her a chair and put a blanket around her bare shoulders. She was tuned to an inner dialogue, arguing with herself. She struggled and wrestled with her demons and would not share her fight. Michael attempted to reach her first through conversation and failing that, his body. She wouldn't talk to him but she didn't refuse his tentative advances. They made love repeatedly but Selene gave little evidence that she even felt his presence despite the fact that she was sore and exhausted from lack of sleep.
Michael became consumed with nervous energy and spent his time with the television, his cousin's computer and finally picked up and discarded several books in irritation, all to occupy himself. It made him uneasy to have large amounts of time stretching before him; his internal clock was synchronized with never ending hospital rotations. He hated knowing that he was a fugitive from the law and couldn't release any of his growing frustration outdoors. He also was in grave danger because his blood was an invaluable asset and that positively galled him. His need for nourishment grew but he wouldn't admit it. The more his hunger grew, the more he could feel himself changing. He was deeply afraid and deeply resentful.
The breaking point came on the third afternoon. Selene was staring out the window when Michael strode into the room, carrying a cup of coffee. She didn't waste words explaining it was lethal to their physiologies, he should have learned that lesson plainly enough already. "Do you want some of this?" he offered through gritted teeth, angry rebellion stark on his face. She didn't answer and turned back to her study of the trees across the park. I'll let him work this out for himself, she thought.
He made a great show of blowing on the steaming brew, although they were both aware that there was no need. The air in the room fairly crackled. Six minutes after the first determined swallow, Michael pitched forward onto his knees and gagged. He threw the cup across the room, where it shattered against the wall. He vomited helplessly and writhed on the floor. Selene came to stand over him and offered him her hand. He refused her help so she sat down with him. Neither said a word for several minutes.
"I don't think much of a species that can't enjoy a fucking cup of coffee." Michael wiped a hand across his mouth. "I could murder every coffee grower in South America right now and plow through the coffee beans." Under his declaration was a gnawing, clawing hunger that he absolutely refused to acknowledge.
"I'll be back in a couple of hours," Selene told him. She left Michael sitting beside a pool of vomit. When he heard the door close downstairs, he was too miserable to wonder where she was headed. It didn't offer much comfort to know the cord that bound them would certainly bring her back to him. He gave into self-pity and decided he didn't care that he had no clue what Selene could possibly find to wear before she went out.
When he heard the door again, several hours later, he wasn't physically able to walk downstairs to see if he should defend himself from vampire or lycan invasion or if he should paste a smile of welcome over his sweaty features to greet Selene. He was feeling deep empathy with the heroin addicts of the world. He was shaking and tossing on the floor beside the bed, which he had fallen out of. He had a skull crushing headache and he didn't have the strength to sit up; the floor seemed canted at an impossible angle. He heard footsteps rush toward him and found his tongue too thick to speak. He could smell blood. Holy Mother of God, he could smell blood. His eyes rolled back into his head. His fingers plucked and pinched at the rug bunched under his shoulders.
When he came back to awareness, his arms and legs were tangled with Selene's and he was feeding from her, his mouth full of her blood. She was moaning, but from pleasure or pain, he could not tell. He rose off of the floor and jerked her up. He threw her across the bed and followed. Before she could offer any sort of resistance, he tore at her clothes, the fabric ripping like paper in his hands. His teeth lengthened and sharpened. He plunged both his teeth and his penis inside of her body as he held her down savagely. He was snarling, long threads of saliva and Selene's blood pooled beneath them. The smell of iron and the taste of salt on his tongue inflamed him. He was absolutely blinded with a frantic hunger and lust. In some tiny corner of his mind not yet consumed, he could not believe he was doing something so base and so vile to someone he loved so completely. It went against everything he believed about himself. Still, he couldn't stop; he didn't want to. He left deep furrows in Selene's arms with his claws. He was both horrified and in ecstasy. The bed was crashing against the wall. Michael wanted to bleed Selene dry when she began humming and he felt her muscles clamp down upon him. He broke into harsh sobs as he came, filling her with his seed and his pain. His head fell forward and he shook with the effort to hold himself together. His unshaven beard scraped against Selene's skin. "I can't live this way," he sobbed.
"You're right, you can't," Selene whispered against his forehead, kissing him softly. Nothing he had just done to her hurt quite as much as the sound he was now making. Michael rolled onto his back and wearily pressed his fingers to his eyes, trying to stop his tears as he wiped away bloody sweat. He didn't seem aware that he was slowly changing back into a human form. He took no notice. His hands were trembling violently and his breathing was uneven. "I am not cut out for this," he said.
"Michael, no one is. No one is. But what you are going to do right now is stand up, walk fifteen steps to the shower and get in. Then you are going to shave. Then we are going to strip this bed and burn these reeking sheets. And then we are leaving this place. You are coming with me whether you want to or no."
"I have to clean the kitchen first," he mumbled as his breathing returned to a normal rate.
Selene's eyebrows shot up. "Now I know you are losing your mind. Get up, I am too tired to drag you."
"Wait, wait. I didn't mean, I…couldn't…" Michael struggled.
"I tried to warn you before. You cannot ingest human food nor can you ignore your cravings. It will either kill you or you will end up killing. You won't be able to control yourself."
He made a strangled sound and she continued, "You're still the same person inside, no matter what you're feeling right now. Who you are, who you have always been doesn't have to change no matter what you are evolving into! Don't let Lucian's bite turn you into a mindless beast…a caricature of a lycan."
She stopped for a moment and then sat up against the headboard. She pulled his hands from his face. "And don't let what I did to you make you into a killing machine. Don't you dare become the vampire I have been. That surely isn't who you are either. You are not doing this, do you hear me! You are not going to show me that some other life is possible and then take it back! You've been holding that possibility out to me for days like some glittering prize and then you change your mind? You're so intent on showing me that some other life is possible and when it gets tough for you, you're giving up? Like hell you are, Michael Corvin."
"Stephen," he muttered.
"What?"
"Stephen. Michael Stephen Corvin," he clarified. Selene's fingers itched to close into a fist and hit him in the mouth.
"I don't care what your full name is right now. I'm trying to..." Her voice hitched, broke and stopped. She rubbed at a smear of blood on her thigh and started again. "Do you want to know something? This is the longest conversation I have had in the last hundred years! I'm not about to let another hundred years pass before I find another reason to share this much with someone. My coven is gone, I saw it today. Marcus burned it to the ground. The elders are gone and I don't know how many others. I'm sure I'd be killed on sight for what I've done. Not only did I raise my hand against Viktor, I've struck Marcus down with him. But the worst, the absolute worst sin in the eyes of my kind is that I had a hand in creating what you are."
He shook his head, "I would never let anything happen to you."
"And how would you stop it? You won't leave this house and you won't accept who and what you are! Sooner or later you will have to accept this: something you would never have chosen has happened to you. It has made you into something you never would have wanted and something you haven't found a way to reconcile yourself with. You're struggling as much as I am, I can see it. You're something completely new in this world. So am I. Michael, we could end this war once and for all. I know that's why Alexander gave me his blood. I know it. God, do you realize, even for one minute, what this could mean?"
"Selene, I am no one's savior."
"No, you couldn't save your fiancée. But you have another chance! Make no mistake about it. You are a hybrid and you have a destiny. You are going to have to accept it. It can either come crashing through the door when the vampires and lycans finally find us or you can walk out of here and meet it on your own terms. I am not kidding…get out of this bed." She pushed at his shoulder and he sat up, offering her his hand.
