Melissa Darnell - Consume

I had zero desire to see how a ticked-off, newly turned Tristan would react to facing the council in their headquarters.

I pressed a shaky hand to my pounding temple. One crisis at a time. First we had to stabilize Tristan, make it safe for him to be around others again. Then we’d deal with the council.

“So about Tristan’s training,” I said. “You’ve got a plan, right?”

“Not exactly.”

I turned to stare at him. “You’re joking, right? You’re over three hundred years old. You’ve probably trained tons of fledglings by now.”

“You are my only fledgling still alive.”

“What happened to the ones who came before me?”

“There was only one. In the first hundred years of my immortal life, Gowin was busy with his many other fledglings and I became lonely and disillusioned by my existence. I foolishly attempted to turn a dying friend so that I might have a companion, someone to speak with about our unique trials and tribulations.”

My heartbeat raced. “What happened?”

“I failed to help him overcome the initial hurdle of the bloodlust.”

“So the council...?”

“My fledgling was out of control despite my best efforts, and ultimately I could not argue with the council’s decision to put him down.”

Put him down?

Oh. He meant they’d killed his first fledgling.

And since I was a dhampir instead of a full vamp, my version of training probably didn’t count toward Dad’s true track record as a vamp sire. Which meant Dad didn’t know what he was doing, either.

“Why do y’all have to call it that?” I whispered, trying not to picture Tristan facing the council’s wrath if Dad and I failed to teach him self-control. “They’re not animals to be ‘put down.’ They’re people.”

“When the council decides to end a fledgling’s existence, believe me, it is not because that fledgling is exhibiting any higher form of civilized traits. They are animals, driven by nothing other than the base need to feed. ‘Putting them down’ is the only apt way to describe it. It is an act of compassion made with the understanding that the person that fledgling once was can never be brought back in any shape or form, thus hopefully saving both the fledgling’s soul along with all the souls of the lives they would otherwise take from this world.”

I stared at my dad, sensing both the quick buzzing quality of his emotions in the air between us and hearing his thoughts. I’d never seen him so wound up like this, both afraid and desperate and ashamed all at the same time. Ashamed of his previous failure, fearful that we would fail again and this time it would be my fledgling who would face the council’s ultimate punishment.

But my dad was a three-hundred-year-old vamp and a former member of the council. He was supposed to have all the answers.

“What about asking the council for advice?” I said.

“Even council members occasionally fail with their fledglings. You become a council member for your age and political skills, not because you know more than everyone else in the community. Besides, our situation with the council is already exceedingly tenuous, and I have no desire to further sway them toward making any hasty decisions. As it is, they are alarmed beyond measure at the thought of not one but two vamps with magical abilities who might one day rise up against them. If they believe we are incapable of training Tristan to control himself...”

He didn’t have to finish that thought. My imagination could fill in the gap all too easily.

“What about asking for help from other vamps not on the council? Somebody out there’s got to have this training stuff down by now.”

He continued to stare off into the distance, letting silence answer for him.

“So we just have to figure this out on our own?” I couldn’t breathe as the enormity of what we were facing crashed over me.

“I am sorry to disappoint you, Savannah, but there is no Vampire Training for Dummies guide to assist us, no vampire fledgling school to send him to. Every fledgling is a unique case, this one more so than ever. I can only try the methods my sire utilized with me during my initial days as a vamp while you attempt to keep Tristan calm and guide him to avoid using his Clann abilities. It is the best that we can do.”

So we were alone in this. Pass or fail, it was all up to us and only us to figure out how to bring an irrational, moody amnesiac vamp with magic skills far beyond my own back from the proverbial ledge. And to do it, we would be using antiquated training methods that had already failed my dad once. Worse, those training methods had been passed down from the very same vampire councilman who had gone rogue, tried to rip out Tristan’s heart and caused this entire mess in the first place.

The cabin door creaked open again, and my heartbeat pounded even harder in my chest and ears.

Tristan was awake.

I forced my mind to go blank and the air to fill and leave my lungs in a steadier rhythm.

A second later Tristan was at my other side. “I woke up and no one was around.”

“Just out getting some fresh air,” Dad murmured. “It is a lovely sunset, is it not?” A quick peek into his mind revealed he was thinking about nature.

But Tristan watched only me, frowning, his thoughts showing he was trying to read my emotions when he couldn’t get anything from my thoughts. “Are you okay?” Your heart is racing, and I can smell fear on you, he added silently.

I made myself smile. “Everything’s fine. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I woke up thirsty, though.”

Dad’s gaze darted sideways to meet mine. He turned toward us. “We should go inside and feed.”

But Tristan wasn’t listening. Frowning, he raised his chin several inches and sniffed the air. “What is that?”

“What?” I sniffed the air, too, but smelled only the chimney smoke, the dead leaves under our feet, the dirt.

And then Tristan was gone. He ran so fast that even my vamp eyes couldn’t follow his movements.

Shocked, I looked at Dad. “What the...”

“Deer hunters,” Dad growled.

Oh, God. Tristan had scented humans somewhere in the woods.

We took off after him with only the newly disturbed leaves to show where he had been.

CHAPTER 2

When we caught up to him minutes later, it was almost too late.

Trapped between Tristan and a tree, the lone human hunter gasped and struggled to breathe, Tristan’s hand at the man’s throat cutting off his airway, his rifle forgotten several yards away where he must have dropped it.

Tristan ducked his head, closing the distance between his fangs and the man’s throat, smiling in anticipation.

“Tristan, stop!” Dad shouted, forgetting that neither Tristan nor I could be compelled by any older vampire’s command due to our mix of Clann and vamp genes.

Tristan ignored him, his fangs burying themselves in the man’s neck a half second later.

“Tristan, please,” I begged, fear and horror making my own throat tighten up. If he killed this man, he would never forgive himself later. And I would never forgive myself for not stopping it. But how could I stop him? If I tried to yank them apart, Tristan’s fangs would rip the man’s throat open.

Either my words or the fear behind them made Tristan pause.

Why should I stop? Tristan thought, his fangs still deep within the man’s skin. But at least he was no longer gulping down his victim’s blood. I’m thirsty, and he’s food.

There are other ways to feed, ways that won’t hurt anyone. We have more than enough blood for all of us back at the cabin, I answered silently, not wanting to further scare Tristan’s victim, who stood paralyzed beneath Tristan’s grip. The poor man’s eyes were already round with terror because Tristan didn’t know how to gaze daze him first to calm him.