The Vampire and the Scorpion (Blood and Venom Saga #1)

17. Seventeen

Seventeen

W aking the following night, it took a second to recall why there wasn’t the usual terror constricting me, but then I grinned, sinking into my bedding as last night’s success came rushing back. I considered having a lie in, but changed my mind. Tonight could be an opportunity to socialise without the feeling of impending doom hanging over me.

I drew my curtain, expecting to see Madigan, but he’d already gone, his bed converted into sofas and a table.

Bastard left without saying goodbye! What a cheek!

I showered and dressed, planning to find Latisha or Billy, and exited the caravan to find a group congregated around the campfire.

“There she is! Evening’s Greetings, Princess!” Billy’s jovial voice carried on the breeze. The rest of the crowd turned their heads in my direction, followed by cheers and greetings, one figure bouncing towards me in her fluttering, brightly-coloured dress. Latisha.

“Ava!” She handed me a glass of red liquid. “Don’t panic. It’s only wine. Come on, everyone’s waiting!” She pulled me by my free hand to the group I identified as the entire coven, except the vampires. “You’re an official member of the coven now. We thought we should celebrate!”

“Few vampire familiars make it this far,” Alfred said, flicking his long ponytail.

“Ignore the grumpy bawbag.” Billy gave Alfred a small punch on the arm. “Though he’s not exactly wrong. ”

Alfred glared at Billy, baring his stained teeth and rubbing his arm. “No touching, shifter.”

“Boys...” Latisha rolled her eyes. “You can practically smell the testosterone.”

I laughed. Dysfunctional as they were, the coven was a family—one that I might have wanted to be part of if it wasn’t for Ivan and his cronies. I mingled with the different groups, thanking each of them for coming to my party. Even the antisocial werewolves.

“Any excuse to celebrate,” said a female werewolf who, I suspected, was Alfred’s mate. “And not attending another execution is definitely worth celebrating.”

“I’ll drink to that,” I said, clinking my glass against hers.

She raised an eyebrow at me, her mouth twisting into a disgruntled pout. Grouchy werewolves... I left her and the pack to join the friendlier members.

Luna and Aurora huddled together, occasionally glancing at me, like they were up to some mischief and didn’t want to get caught, but as I approached, they sprung to their feet, wearing identical grins.

“We’ve got something for you,” Luna said, holding out a small box. I opened it and inside was a yellow gemstone on a dainty, gold chain.

I put a hand to my chest. “I... I don’t know what to say! Thank you!” I immediately took it from the box and put it on.

“It’s topaz,” Aurora said. “The ancient Egyptians believed it contained sunbeams. As vampires can’t walk in the sun, we thought you could carry the sun with you instead.”

“They’re not real sunbeams, of course,” Luna added. “It’s more for sentiment. But it should still benefit you, as a Scorpio’s birthstone.”

I looked at the twins, mouth agape. How do they know my star sign? Is all that stuff real?

But before I could ask, Billy threw an arm around me, saying, “Sorry, Blondie, I haven’t got you a present, but I can top up your drink!” He poured more wine into my now empty glass. “You’ve spent enough time with the hags. Come and hang out with your boys.”

“Watch yourself, Spidey, or these hags will pull all eight legs off,” Latisha said with a wink.

“You know I meant no offence, my lady,” Billy said, adopting a posh voice and doffing an invisible cap, flashing his most charming smile. He steered me toward the shifters. After a few drinks and jokes (most at Marcus’ expense), Billy asked, “Where’s Len? I get he’s a recluse, but you’d think he’d want to celebrate your success with us.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “He was already gone by the time I got up.”

“I saw him go into Master Ivan’s motorhome at sundown,” Marcus said, listening in on our conversation.

“Oh, really?” I drained the last of my wine, setting the glass on one of the stumps that encircled the campfire as I got to my feet.

“I wouldn’t interrupt them if I were you,” Trevor said, as serious as ever.

“I’m not going to. But I want to hear what they are saying.”

The wine was doing the thinking for me. I reached the motorhome but came to an abrupt halt at the sound of Madigan’s voice within.

“I will speak to her about it, but I still think it’s too early.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” Ivan’s voice responded. “This is a direct order.”

“She’s just passed the first trial and you already want her to undergo the transformation? Now?”

My heart stopped.

“Two nights,” said Ivan. “That’s plenty of time to build up a blood supply for herself.”

Two nights?! Two?! But the full moon is a week and half away!

“But... but Master Ivan, I thought perhaps another fortnight would—”

“Your prattle about the Hallows and the alleged threats they pose got me thinking. The faster we can increase our numbers, the better. Though why you are so afraid of them is beyond me. Don’t you remember what happened to them last time?”

“I remember.” Madigan sounded as though he were speaking through clenched teeth.

“Master Ivan,” Dominic’s voice joined the conversation. “Shouldn’t you test her a second time, as you did Randall?”

“For once, I agree with Dominic,” said Madigan. “She’s too inexperienced. Another trial will determine if she’s ready.”

“Don’t question my reasoning,” said Ivan, and in my mind, I saw his icy glare over his spectacles. “Randall Johnson and Ava Monroe are entirely different and need to be treated accordingly. One was eager to undergo the conversion, and the other, I suspect, isn’t. But perhaps she can be persuaded. If not, I’ll dispose of her.”

There was a moments silence.

“I understand, Master,” Madigan said so softly I could barely hear him.

“Good. And don’t argue with me again. It would be a shame to eliminate you, too.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Get out. I’ve had enough of you for one night. And the rest of you. Except, you .” I couldn’t see who Ivan was gesturing to, but it was probably his henchman, Dominic. “You stay. And your familiar. We have something to discuss.”

My heart flared back to life, threatening to leap up my throat as footsteps approached the door. I darted around the motorhome, skulking in the shadows as the door swung open and the vampires exited. Jacob, Sebastian, and their familiars returned to their homes, followed by Madigan, who made for the campfire. I jumped from my hiding spot, running to catch up with him.

“Hey!” I called out before he could reach the party. He turned, a frown on his face that softened as he saw me.

“Miss Monroe! What were you doing back there?”

“I was listening to your delightful meeting.” The only thing more sarcastic than my tone was my smile.

“You heard all of that?”

“I heard the end. Ivan wants me to become a vampire in two nights.”

“Well...” Madigan tilted his head to one side, tugging at his cuff. “To put it bluntly: yes, he does.”

“And what of our escape plan?”

“Shush!” He clamped a hand around my mouth and hissed into my ear, “We’re outside Ivan’s camper you dolt! I agree this needs discussion, but not here.”

By his grace, I freed myself from his grip. “Then let’s go. I need to know what I’m getting myself into.”

Madigan nodded. “This time, we are bringing wine.”

Like last time, Madigan guided me through the woodland to the lake. After building the fire, he spread a blanket beside it and seated himself, leaning back against the fallen tree, then patted the spot beside him, inviting me to sit. He opened the bottle of wine and took a swig straight from the bottle before passing it to me. It tasted like vinegar, but I still enjoyed the warm sensation in my chest.

“Before we dive into the details of the transformation, I wanted to congratulate you,” Madigan said. “It must be a relief to have passed your trial.”

I snorted with bitter laughter. “Hardly. Even if we escape this sodding place, if I become a vampire there is no way I can go back to my old life. You have no idea what I’m going through.”

“I have some idea.” He arched an eyebrow at me. “Becoming a vampire wasn’t exactly my first choice. But it was that or dying. I chose a life of servitude—until my master released me, that is.”

“Your master wasn’t like Ivan, then?”

“No.” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes drifting to the fire. “He was a good man. A good mentor. He gave me a lot more time to undergo my training. A lot more time.”

“Was there the threat of death if you failed?”

“In theory. All vampire masters are supposed to dispose of their familiars if they fail their training, but Master Tobias was... different.” His voice trailed off. I didn’t need him to tell me how fond he had been of his master; I could tell from the way his voice cracked when he spoke of him. His vulnerability softened my temper.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I said, handing him the bottle of wine.

“It’s alright,” he said, taking a drink. “Master Tobias wasn’t traditional. He didn’t join a coven, choosing instead to take me and my friend as familiars in exchange for saving our lives.” He touched the left side of his torso absentmindedly, but then, realising what he was doing, ran his fingers through his hair. “We travelled, keeping to ourselves. It was a simple life, difficult to adjust to perhaps, but we were free. That is, until he was murdered.”

He flicked an acorn husk into the fire, the light dancing in his shiny eyes as he gazed into the flames, hypnotised as he relived his past.

“It’s difficult losing someone you care about.” I pulled the photograph of my grandma from my hoodie pocket. “I think about my grandma every day... and how disappointed she’d be.”

Madigan put his arm around my shoulders, squeezing me into his side. My stomach flipped over.

“I’m sure she would be very proud of you.” Handing the half-empty wine bottle to me, Madigan looked at the photograph. “That’s your grandma? She looks young enough to be your mother.”

“She was only fifty-five when she died. Both she and my mother had kids young.”

I looked at the photo, noting her large, brown eyes and unusual hair—dark-brown, with a tuft of white at the front—just like mine when it wasn’t coated in bleach. I returned the photo to my pocket before my eyes could start stinging. I took another swig from the bottle, then scooted closer to Madigan, resting my head on his shoulder, warmth seeping from his body and into mine, and for a while we remained silent, watching the fire as we finished the remaining wine and cast the bottle aside.

“So,” Madigan said with a sigh, finally breaking the silence, “I suppose we should discuss your conversion.”

“Do we really have to?”

Ivan was right; I didn’t want to become a vampire. It was difficult enough harvesting to pass my trial. To do it regularly filled me with dread. And the sun: I’d miss the sun. I clutched at the necklace the twins had given me. As touching as the sentiment was, the yellow stone wouldn’t replace the feeling of the sun soaking through my skin. Or the beauty of golden light shining over the horizon, or the red glow of sunset. I wondered how severe the long-term side effects of Latisha’s sunblock lotion were, and if it was worth the risk.

“Look,” Madigan twisted to face me, gripping me by the shoulders and stared into my eyes with a look of determination. “As you said yourself, you won’t be able to return to your human life, but we can still escape the coven. This is just another obstacle to overcome.”

I stared back. My temper longed to flare again, but what good would that do? I felt the fight bleed out of me. “Fine. Tell me about the conversion.”

“Well, as you know, you’ll be required to drink vampire blood.”

“A litre? Like Randall had to?”

Madigan nodded, his perpetual frown set in place.

“Will it be your blood?”

He nodded again. “After drinking a vampire’s blood, you shall slowly become one of us. It takes about a week for the process to complete.”

“A week?! It will take that long?”

“Afraid so. And it’s not a pleasant week. Every cell in your body will ache as your DNA is rewritten. You’ll have moments of boundless energy, only to crash minutes later. And possibly the toughest thing is the craving for blood. Anyone’s. Human. Vampire. Animal. It’s not unusual for those undergoing the conversion to drink their own in desperation.”

Without thinking, I put a hand to my arm, covering the spot Randall had bitten me. “Blood sickness,” I said, recalling the term Dominic and Madigan had used.

“Correct. But I’ll take care of you. Rest assured of that.” He looked at me, half-smiling, and my insides melted. “And not just during your conversion, either. After the transformation, you’ll battle your addictions to human blood. It’s during this time that most vampires become Brain Eaters.”

I shuddered as I recalled Madigan’s explanation of the vampires that became so addicted to human blood they became monsters.

“That’s why most of our kind travel to the Vampires’ Nest for their conversion,” Madigan continued. “It’s a sacred place for our people and it’s easier to undergo the conversion with the support and knowledge of different types of vampires. Unfortunately, Ivan doesn’t allow such things.”

“What do you mean by different types of vampires?”

Madigan scratched his chin, cocking his head to the side, considering the best explanation for me. “Well, I’ve told you of the Brain Eaters.”

“Yes, I remember. Big yikes.”

“ Yikes , indeed,” Madigan chuckled. I’d never heard him laugh before, the sound of which gave me butterflies, eager to make him laugh again. “There are Blood Drinkers, such as myself. And finally, there are Soul Suckers. They are the most powerful of our kind. They have an arsenal of abilities, such as glamour, wallcrawling, as well as ungodly speed and strength that make the rest of us seem feeble by comparison. But it comes at a price.” He fixed me with an intense stare. “To become a Soul Sucker, a Blood Drinker must suck the soul from another being’s mouth, leaving their victim an empty, yet obedient husk.” He took one of my hands in his. “Which is why, Miss Monroe, I implore you, please be careful should a vampire— any vampire—try to kiss you.”

I closed my mouth, which I only now realised had been hanging open.

“Is Ivan a Soul Sucker?” I asked, recalling the ease with which he’d lifted me by the arm.

Madigan flashed a rare smirk. “Does he look like he can glamour?”

I thought about Ivan’s appearance, his broad features and hulking frame. He was a sight to behold, but beautiful? No. “Fair point. And you promise you aren’t a Soul Sucker?”

“Do I look like I can glamour?”

I looked into his grey eyes, noting his prominent brow, thin nose, hollow cheeks... and inviting lips. He wasn’t exactly beautiful. And yet...

“To me? Yes .” He was still holding one of my hands. I closed my fingers around his tightly. “But if you promise that you’re not a Soul Sucker, and never will be, I believe you.” I slid closer towards him, my leg now against his. His eyes were looking directly into mine.

His chest was heaving, lips parted, like he was feeling exactly as I was. “You trust me?”

My heart felt as though it were about to burst. I nodded, leaning closer; so close we shared a breath.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You barely know me,” he said, his voice husky as he mirrored me, our noses almost touching.

“I’d like to know you better.”

“What would you like to know?”

I swallowed. “I want to know…” Did I dare say it out loud? His sweet aroma infiltrated my senses, and the words slipped out before I could stop them. “I want to know what your lips feel like.”

“Miss Monroe,” he whispered, but before he could continue, I closed the millimetres between us, pressing my lips to his, kissing him softly. His lips were smooth, without a trace of stubble around his chin. But his body went rigid, sharply inhaling through his nose like I’d stolen the air from him.

“I’m sorry,” I said, pulling away, blood aflame in my cheeks. “I should have asked.”

For a moment, we just looked at each other, my heart hammering, breath almost failing me completely as I waited for him to say something. Madigan’s widening eyes burned into mine before flicking down to my mouth, transfixed. He swallowed. Then brushed my hair from my face, and slid one finger across my cheek to my chin, gently tilting my face up to his. His teeth grazed his lower lip, and I could practically hear his mind battling with itself.

The next thing I knew, his fingers were tight in my hair, and his lips crashed against mine, nipping, biting, drinking me in. I swallowed his moan as his lips parted mine, allowing his tongue to invade my mouth and dance against my own. Heat raged through my body, across my lips, down my throat, down my chest, down, down... down...

His hands were now on my waist, pulling me onto his lap with such ease I could have weighed nothing, then slid down to clasp my hips, pinching my flesh with such intensity, it was more than simple desire. It was need . Like years of suppression had finally overpowered him.

My mind was a blur, hardly daring to believe what was happening. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kissed him as hungrily as he was kissing me, a wave of electricity pulsing through my body, grinding my hips against his and had to suppress a moan as his erection pressed against the growing wetness between my legs. I let out a shuddering gasp against his mouth, gripping him like he was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality, until—

He pulled back, panting. “This is wrong...”

“What?” My insides lurched, like when missing a step in the dark.

“We shouldn’t do this. It isn’t right. It isn’t professional.” He lifted me off his lap, his grip pinching painfully.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m your master. This would be... an abuse of power.”

“No, it wouldn’t!” I sounded desperate, but I didn’t care. “I’m a consenting adult. I want this.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Monroe.” He tugged his cuff, turning his head away from me. “We can’t do this... I... I mustn’t take advantage.”

“Take advantage? What are you talking about?”

“You’re likely looking for escapism from your torment, and as much as I want to... No. My decision is final.” He got to his feet, brushed himself down, and started to extinguish the fire. I stood too, watching him work, rubbing my arms against the chill of winter.

“Is it because you’re self-conscious?” I asked, throwing caution to the wind.

He stopped, snapping his head around to look at me, glaring.

“Excuse me?”

“I just thought maybe... you were shy... about...”

He took a few steps towards me, looking down his nose at me like he’d done during our first meeting, the moonlight reflecting off his cold, flinty eyes.

“About what?” His tone was dangerous, like he was daring me to finish my sentence. Unfortunately, I’d never known when to refuse a dare.

“About the scars you got during some war.”

“Some war?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling. “Miss Monroe...” His tone was now frostier than the night. “It wasn’t some war. It was the war. The Great War. For your information, I got these scars whilst I, and my dearest friend, emerged over the top, heading into No Man’s Land. Shrapnel from a German shell. My companion was not as lucky as I. He took it to the face, shredding him. Didn’t kill him, though.”

He leant down, his face close, eyes locked on mine. “His screams still echo in my mind when I sleep. And that’s not all. I’ve seen a man with dysentery drown in a trench of his own faeces. Waking to find rats eating me alive. The feeling of taking off my boot to find one of my toes has ripped clean off my foot. Clearing a slurry of corpses in the trenches, tripping over one and falling into his body. Not on top of it. Into it. A soup of bone and organs. I couldn’t wash the putrid stench off for weeks.”

My mouth was hanging open. The butterflies in my stomach had long since died, replaced by a wave of nausea that threatened to overpower me. “I... I’m sorry... I didn’t know...”

“No, you didn’t. We’re from different worlds, and that is why we’re not compatible.”

“Maybe I could help you?”

“Really? You think you could erase a trauma of over a hundred years?” He shook his head. “That just confirms your naivety. Compared to me, you’re still but a child.”

“I’m... sorry.”

“Forget it,” he said, stamping out the remaining embers with a huff.

He didn’t make eye contact when he asked if I’d need help through the dark woodland, and when I said yes, he held my wrist instead of my hand. When I tried to speak, the words died on my lips before I could summon the courage to spit them out.

Once we’d reached the showmen’s yard, Madigan released my wrist and walked ahead, and all I could do was follow, looking at the marks in the gravel he’d left behind. I cleared my throat for attention as he reached the door to his caravan.

“Would you like me to ask Latisha if I should stay with her for today?” I gritted my teeth, trying to stop my voice from cracking.

Madigan looked through me, before hanging his head and sighing. “Perhaps that would be best.”

Without looking back, he headed into his caravan and closed the door behind him.