When his scent changes slightly, I realize the almost perpetual arousal I smelled on him since his arrival has fled. This is a painful subject for him to discuss.
I regret asking him, but also, kinda not.
Because it’s exceedingly rare for a vampire to let down their guard like this around anyone.
Especially a human.
Doubly especially a human who can’t be kept under their firm control.
“I honestly can’t tell you how old I was. Two thousand years ago, we weren’t keeping tabs on things like that, where I was from. I was raised in the region that is close to what’s now known as Dumfries, Scotland. Wasn’t called that back then, obviously. I was a little old for my time, so the best I can remember, I was probably thirty-two, thirty-three, maybe. Certainly, no older than forty. We were farmers and shepherds and fished.
“Now, keep in mind the times. I’d already been a widow once. A girl my father picked for me to wed, the daughter of a cousin of his. I didn’t really love her. I met her maybe once before we were married. But our families insisted on the union. She wasn’t much happier with me, but we didn’t hate each other, and we even came to tolerate and like each other. We made a good team, even if we weren’t exactly setting the world on fire with romance.
“Unfortunately, she died in childbirth with our fifth child. A girl, after four boys.” When his eyes unfocus, I realize he’s not staring at me but at sad memories in the past. “I had hoped for a little girl. Only two of our sons made it past infancy, Eochaidh and Sealbhach.”
I feel horrible for him. “Yikes. I’m sorry.”
“It happened far too often then. Fortunately, I wasn’t pressed into service as a groom after that. I had help raising my children from others in our community. But, back to my turning. I had traveled with a cousin to a neighboring village to trade, and we were spending a few nights there. I’d left the children behind. We’d had a larger meal than we were used to, and excellent ale, and it was nice weather out. It was dark, and I wandered a little from where we were staying with the intention to find a soft place to lie down and pleasure myself. That’s when a man appeared out of the darkness.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Exactly.” He takes another bite of chicken. “There was something bewitching about him. He was gorgeous, strange, and while he knew a little of my language, he also spoke languages I had never heard before.”
“Uh-oh, again.”
“Yes. He fed from me that night and exchanged blood with me, although I didn’t know this until later.”
“Later?”
“Yes. He told me later, after I survived the turning. He returned the following two nights. On the third night, he killed me after exchanging blood with me.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yes. Fortunately, he spirited me away from there before he did, or I might have been buried or cremated. He had a hiding place in an old underground burial cairn. He left behind my tunic, ripped and covered in blood, to make it look like an attack by a wild animal.”
Dread fills his tone. “Feeding from me wasn’t the only thing he did to me those three nights, or in the weeks and months after he successfully turned and sired me.” His light blue gaze looks more grey now, darker, as he meets my gaze. “Heusedme. Sexually.”
My stomach rolls. “I’m so sorry.”
“It seems he had a pattern. He would leave the nest safely sequestered, go out in search of a new prospect, and then turn them. After they had survived the initial turning and could be safely moved, he’d rejoin the nest with the newest member.
“For every one he turned, he probably killed at least thirty more. Once his sired were strong enough to resist him, he would then attempt to sire another. So that usually took a while to happen—a rebellion—because being sired is a powerful experience. There’s a codependency, physically, emotionally, and psychically. It was a time of fear and survival instincts.
“It might have been a supernatural existence, but I still had a very strong survival instinct. He deliberately withheld many facts for as long as possible, to keep us dependent as long as possible. For example, he never revealed to us how to turn someone. Back then, there was much we didn’t know about what we were, unless you met an older vampire who told you. This was also before Christianity existed in our region. Even the Romans were newcomers. So much, obviously, was unknown.
“For example, now we know it’s a virus, even if we don’t understand it and cannot yet treat it. Back then, it was evil spirits and dark magick and…” He sighs. “So even though we all hated our sire, it was unthinkable to us to consider destroying him. We didn’t know what information he might take with him if we did, information we needed for our very survival. We didn’t know for sure if destroying him might not kill us, too. Plus, there was a certain safety in numbers. Until, one day, he picked someone who was far stronger than he realized. Once they were through the initial turning process, they destroyed him and then awaited the sunrise.”
He sadly smiles and picks up the goblet of blood. “And that,” he quietly says, “is why, to this day, I do not violate consent.” He sips, staring me in the eyes. “Because I know what it feels like to have agency ripped away and to feel utterly violated and helpless.”
12
Dexter
Why didI reveal my most intimate pain to her, pain that’s chased and haunted me throughout the millennia?
Pain I’ve only shared with one other in my life?
Maybe because, as I stare into her violet eyes, eyes surely not wholly of this world, I realize I am not merely obsessed with her—I feel about her something I haven’t felt since losing Robert. That is a sensation I desperately don’t want to lose.
