Sylvia Day - A Touch of Crimson

Adrian shoved to his feet, his BlackBerry cracking under the strain of his grip. “Lindsay!”

“I love you, Adrian. Good-bye.”

Lindsay stepped out of the bedroom, freshly showered and feeling cleansed inside and out. Syre waited patiently at the dining table. She had the feeling he was the type of man who could sit absolutely still for hours, waiting, his patience infinite and unyielding. So much control and power-it radiated from him as it did from Adrian. Adrian, whose beautiful voice had slashed and whipped with the force of his emotions. She was making him more human by the day, weakening him when he needed to be the strongest. Seeing Syre face-to-face proved that to her more than anything else. The vampire leader was a formidable force to be reckoned with, and his second was a homicidal manic. In the days ahead, Adrian would have to be at the top of his game in order to survive.

“Are you ready?” He stood in a display of sleek fluidity and grace.

She nodded. “Yes. I’m ready.”

He gestured for her to return to the bedroom.

“Can you tell me what’s going to happen?” she asked, lying on the bed as directed. Her heart was racing so violently she thought she might have a heart attack.

The vampire leader sat on the bed beside her and took her hand in his. He met her gaze directly, his perfect features soft with affection. Just looking at him told her what a stunner Shadoe must have been. An exotic beauty whose love had enslaved Adrian forever.

“I’m going to drink from you.” His voice was as warm and intoxicating as heated brandy. “I’m going to drain you to the brink of death. Then I’m going to fill you back up with the blood from my veins and it’s going to Change you.”

“My soul will die.”

He looked for a moment like he might lie to her. Then he nodded. “Mortal souls don’t survive the Change. But if it’s any consolation, I think Shadoe will have absorbed some of you over the time you two have been together. You might continue to exist in that way. I don’t think you’ll be completely lost.”

“But you don’t know.”

“No,” he agreed. “You are unique.”

She exhaled a shaky breath. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Syre brushed the hair back from her forehead. “You really love him. I wish I understood why. Every time you come back, you love him all over again.”

Her eyes closed. “Please. Just get this over with.”

She felt the humidity of his spice-scented breath against her wrist, then the sharp sting of his bite.

Lindsay floated in an oddly warm miasma. Like a swimmer on her back, she drifted languidly, all sense of time and urgency gone.

Around her, waves of memories rose and crested. Some were hers; most were not. She sifted through them with a lush fascination, watching reels of events like movies. So many versions of herself, as if she were the only actress in an endless play with multiple characters, settings, and time periods.

In the back of her mind, she registered a distant burning. Around her, smoke and fire licked along the shores of her memories, making the water boil until it was uncomfortable against her bare flesh. She tried to twist away, then to dip beneath the waters, but below the surface there was no bottom. There was only an endless void and the tickling sensation of that abyss suckling at her toes, luring her downward.

She broke the surface and returned to her horizontal position, keeping her legs away from the seductive pull below.

There was no escaping the growing heat.

“It’ll go away soon.”

Turning her head in search of the speaker, Lindsay discovered a woman floating nearby. An exotic and breathtaking woman. A woman whose rich beauty would make a stunning pairing with Adrian’s dark magnificence.

“Shadoe.”

Shadoe’s mouth curved. “Hello, Lindsay.”

She reached out and they linked fingers. A swift rush of cooling relief raced up Lindsay’s arm from the contact. Her mind filled with images of Syre and a beautiful Asian woman. They were laughing. Playing. Chasing two young giggling children through a field of tall grasses. Syre had wings. Great, magnificent wings of azure blue that perfectly matched the color of his irises. They spread and stretched in a visible manifestation of his joy. He lifted the little girl high and kissed her forehead. Lindsay felt the press of those lips against her own skin, felt the rush of paternal love that accompanied it as if it were for her.

Syre set Shadoe down and chased his son, an adorable boy with chubby arms and legs. Shadoe moved to where her mother was laying out a picnic. She sat on the edge of the blanket and tossed small pieces of some kind of vegetable near the edge of the clearing, where the grasses began their domination of the landscape.

A small rabbitlike creature appeared, soft, fluffy, and white. It followed the vegetable trail to Shadoe, who stroked its trusting head with her fingertips. When the creature grew bolder and reared up to set its front paws on Shadoe’s thigh, she laughed with delight and scooped it up like Syre had done to her only moments before. She nuzzled her freckled nose against the sweet animal’s, then buried her face in its neck.

The creature’s scream startled Lindsay so violently she jerked and sank beneath the waves. The memory slid away from her, getting caught in the churning surf near the burning shoreline, but not before Lindsay caught the ripe smell of blood and the beauty of crimson soaking into pristine white. Like Adrian’s wings.

She kicked her way back up to the surface, gasping with a mixture of fear, fascination, and building hunger. The scent of the creature’s blood drove her wild. Her mouth watered with the desire to drink it greedily the way Shadoe had.

Shadoe smiled at Lindsay’s sputtering breaths. The naphil floated gracefully on her back with her hands tucked behind her head. Her dark hair fanned outward, as did the transparent gauzy skirts of her dress. She looked like a nymph, beautiful and seductive.

“You were already a vampire,” Lindsay accused.

“No. The nephalim thirsted for blood before the Watchers fell. Our angel halves needed the energy found in the life force of others.” There was no horror or remorse in the woman’s voice. No shame or embarrassment.

Lindsay struggled to make sense of it all. The raging heat was slowly fading and languidness returned to her. She felt like taking a nap, like sinking into the silken embrace of the memories around her.

“He’s loved me forever,” Shadoe said casually. “Obsessively.”

“I know.”

New recollections lapped over her. She recognized some of them from her dreams. They made sense now. Every image and scene held Adrian in moments of lust and passion. Lindsay watched with a sharp, ferocious jealousy. She closed her eyes but still found no relief. The memories were in her head, her mind. Whispering. Crooning. Pleading. She was about to dive beneath the waves just to get away from them when she saw herself. She stilled her restless thrashing and took it all in, reliving the tender moments she’d shared with Adrian.

I need you, tzel.

Pain seared her at the understanding of what that meant: while making love to her, he’d been thinking of someone else.

The reminiscences continued unabated, giving her no peace.

Take me, neshama sheli.

She cried at the heated emotion radiating from Adrian as he asked her to take everything he offered her.

“What does that mean?” she asked Shadoe in a voice made husky by heartbreak and longing. “ ‘ Neshama sheli ’?”

“It means ‘my soul.’ It’s an endearment.”

Lindsay absorbed that. As the memories swirled around her, spinning faster and faster until a vortex formed in a downward spiral, she noted how his endearments for her changed as their relationship progressed. Toward the end, he referred to her only as his soul. Not Shadoe’s. His.