Jeanne Stein - The Becoming

Avery's agitation is like a knife thrust. He pounds one fist into the other as he paces. “It could have been worse,” he continues.

“Don't you realize it could have been your parents or Max that were taken? This is a warning. You are not like them anymore. You are immortal. You will watch your parents wither and die, and Max will be a vessel to draw from, nothing more. You don't need them anymore, Anna. You don't need anyone—"

But me.

Avery opens his mind and the frenzy of negative feeling is gone. Instead, his thoughts are full of love, overwhelming, complete. He's beside me on the bed, his look a question.

Confusion snarls my thoughts. I start to pull away, but his emotion is so intense, I'm swept along. I'm in his arms and I can't tell where his passion leaves off and mine begins.

I don't fight it. I don't want to. I don't understand what's happening, but he offers me the one thing I seem to find only in his arms—

safety. I let him strip off my clothes, feel his hand sear a path down my abdomen, explore my thighs, move up. My own urgency soon matches his. This is much more than sexual desire and the degree to which I respond stuns me. I find myself calling his name over and over. And more.

Love, intense, relentless as a rip tide permeates my being.

Can he feel it?

Do I want him to?

It's too late to wonder about it now. Imprisoned in a web of arousal, I let desire spiral through me until it soars to a height of passion I have never known before.

It's not until Avery has left my bed that I start to think, something that does not seem possible when he's touching me. Did I let Avery know that I loved him? Did he read it in my thoughts? I don't even know if it's true, but it certainly felt like it at the time. And it certainly drove all other considerations from my head. Important things, like finding David, something I'm not ready to give up on.

If Avery was a witch, I'd think I was under a spell. But Avery is a vampire. We don't cast spells.

Do we?

I'm hovering on that point between consciousness and sleep when a flash of something important jolts me awake. It's something Williams said, something I should ask Avery about. It's that thing about being “the one.” It all got lost in what happened to Williams and in what happened after that.

But I can ask him now.

I throw off the covers and shrug into the robe Avery left for me. He's gone into his own room to shower, and when I knock on his door and there's no answer, I let myself in anyway. I'll wait for him to finish.

But the bathroom door is open and I don't hear the shower running. I pad into the bathroom. Perhaps he's taking a bath. It was only a day or so ago when he walked in on me in the tub. Turn about is certainly fair play.

But the shower is empty and dry, as is the bathtub. Did he go downstairs to get a drink? I start to send out a mental query to determine his whereabouts when I remember it won't work—that pesky white noise. I'll have to find him the old fashioned way.

It's dark and quiet in the house. My vampire night vision allows me to see without turning on lights, and I make my way downstairs and into the living room. The debris from the broken coffee table has been swept away. I suppose Avery took care of that before the ambulance arrived. There's not even a shard of broken glass to hint at the battle that took place here.

A tremble passes through me. I'm not ready to face what I did to Williams, because in spite of what Avery said, I know I'm to blame. Williams was so afraid of me, he willed himself into a state of suspended animation from which he might never recover. I can't understand how such a strong, old soul could be driven to such a thing by a newbie.

But I push the thought out of my head. I need to find Avery. Perhaps he can make sense out of the riddle Williams spun. I know I can't do it alone.

A search of the library and kitchen yields nothing. Avery is not in any of the downstairs rooms, nor is he on the deck. Puzzled, I start back up the back stairs to the bedroom landing. As I get to the top, it hits me that perhaps Avery has gone to the attic. If he has, am I prepared to intrude? The intensity of his anger is rivaled only by the intensity of his passion. I've evoked both in him today.

I'm unsure what to do. I'm standing in the hall between our bedrooms when I hear it. The sound of a door opening. From inside Avery's room.

But I was just in there. The adjoining bathroom doors were already open and the closets are walk-ins. No doors. Yet I hear the distinct clatter as the tumbles of a lock click into place. Then Avery's footfalls pad across the carpet and the rush of water from the shower floats out across the still night air.

Uncertainty grips me. There's another door somewhere in Avery's room? Where does it go? Why didn't I see it when I was looking around this afternoon?

I feel rooted to the spot, unable to make a decision. After all that's happened today, I don't trust my instincts. One part of me wants to barge right in there and turn the room inside out until I find that secret door. The other, saner part keeps asking why I would do that. After all, this is a vampire's house—an old vampire's house. Perhaps the secret doorway leads to nothing more than a safe room where Avery keeps valuables or money. What right do I have to break into something like that? How would I explain it to the man I was just making love to? A man who has come to my rescue more than once in the last week. A man who can very probably tear my head right off my shoulders if I piss him off again.

So I take the line of least resistance and go on back to my room. After all, Avery is going to the hospital tomorrow morning. I can snoop all I want then.

Avery wakes me up with a kiss, his fingers busy down there, and once again, I'm swept away. When it's over and rational thought has returned, I ask him about Williams's comments.

He stretches and yawns and smiles down at me. I think you must have been mistaken. I know nothing of anyone “being the one” or “having the power.” It sounds melodramatic to me.

But I shake my head. No. It was in his blood. There was no mistake.

Avery turns away from me, shaking off the covers as he gets to his feet. I have to go. Early rounds.

He leans down and brushes my forehead with his lips. We'll talk more tonight. I want to take you to dinner. Someplace special.

Are you up for that?

I try to read what he has in mind, but nothing comes through. Yes. I'd like that. But we do have to talk. David—

But he brushes the air with his hand, and there's a flicker of annoyance at the corners of his mouth before he smoothes it away. I have to go. I'll send a car for you at eight.

I won't see you until then?

He throws me a secretive look. I have some arrangements to make. I think it will be worth the wait.

And then he's gone, sweeping from the room without a backward glance.

There's a subtle shift in his attitude this morning. A confidence that I am his. He has read it in my thoughts, after all. He has felt it in the way my body responds.

All too true.

Still, I burrow under the covers and wait for him to leave the house.

When I'm sure Avery is gone, when I've watched his car disappear down the driveway from the window opposite my bed, I get up, shower, and pull on jeans and a tee shirt. I hear the housekeeper moving around the kitchen, so I know my time is limited. She'll come up to make the beds when she's through with her downstairs duties.

There is a battle waging inside me. The way I've come to trust Avery feels complete and right. Yet, the need to know all his secrets is overwhelming. I can't explain why. I just know I must.