Nibbled by the Vamp(10)

Griffin stiffened, but turned to follow the other man’s voice, boots thumping on the gleaming marble floor as he moved toward the library. Two steps into the room and he narrowed his eyes, suspicious at finding four members of their Ring scattered throughout the room. At least Carac hadn’t gathered them all.

Liam was pouring himself a drink at the bar, the man rarely without a glass of alcohol in hand. Brom, the “brain” of their group, perused the shelves. Griffin knew that Carac kept book cases freshly stocked for the vampire. Simond was sprawled across one of leather couches, hat pulled low over his face. The position seemed relaxed, uncaring, but Griffin knew better. The vampire was primed and ready to strike, body always prepared for whatever was to come.

“Sit.”

The compulsion again, the metaphysical order for Griffin to do as demanded. Gritting his teeth, he did as commanded, lowering his tense frame into a soft club chair, gripping the arm rests with claw-tipped hands.

Carac sat across from him, fingers loosely twined as he rested his elbows on his knees. The man, the vampire who’d seen centuries spanning from the crusades, stared at him, intense knowledge in his gaze.

“I don’t want to Release you, Griffin, but I will.”

Griffin’s heart thumped in his chest, slamming against his ribcage and he rubbed his sternum. He couldn’t be Released, turned to ash and poured into the sea. No. That would leave Wren alone. He hadn’t stalked her, not as he’d desired, but he had others keeping her under watch. She was safe. That’s what mattered. He couldn’t have her, but he protected her. Even if from afar.

“No.” He snarled, fangs full and descended, craving the blood of the vampire who dared to threaten him, threaten his ability to keep Wren out of harm’s way.

Carac leaned back in his seat, fingers forming a steeple as the knowledge of centuries lurked behind his eyes. “You’re riding the edge, Griffin. You know you are. You’ve slaughtered every Broken you’ve come across—”

“That’s my job.” He growled.

“It is. But it’s not the Novice’s job to scrub an alley from top to bottom because the blood of a banshee coats every surface when you lose control. It’s not my job to watch you after you’ve ripped the throat out of a harpy and ingested her blood. It’s not Liam’s job to restrain you when you try to venture near 6th and Lawrence. Nor is it Brom’s responsibility to keep you from starving.” Carac leaned forward once again. “It could all be forgiven, almost understood as you’ve passed your three hundredth year. I believed it was time for you to go to ground for a few years and rest, but then I spoke with Simond…”

Griffin couldn’t breathe. Yes, he’d lost control with the banshee. The woman had screamed Wren’s name as he’d approached. The single syllable resonated through his mind, clouded his thoughts until he could think of nothing but destroying death’s omen. He couldn’t be blamed for protecting his little bird.

And then the harpy… It had been yet another that threatened his Wren with a violent death, promising to drag his sweet into the streets and feast on her.

Eating. He craved nothing but Wren. Nothing. Any other blood tasted like trash, the vilest of liquids ever created. He’d been presented with any number of humans, young and old, pure of heart and evilest of men, but they’d all disgusted him. It took nothing but the tiniest of sips before the need to vomit overtook him. The Protectors’ constant hunting required frequent feedings, but no one appealed to him. No one but Wren.

Then there was Simond. The single vampire who could bring his world tumbling down. That single moment of salvation could mean his end. Literally.

“Simond needs to keep his mouth shut.” Griffin bit off the words.

“Simond’s words are the only thing saving your ass right now.” Carac’s voice was soft and deadly serious. “Simond told me about the woman, Griffin. She had been attacked by pixies, was dying and you broke our laws to save her.”

Griffin gritted his teeth and glared at Simond. “Yes.”

“How many exchanges?”

A single question, so difficult to answer. Would one leave him alive? What about two? Would it ensure his Release?

Pained beyond measure, Griffin broke Carac’s stare and turned his attention to the shelves beyond his Sovereign. The truth. He could never lie to the other vampire. “Two.”

“I see. Two full exchanges?” Carac waited, face impassive.

Griffin nodded. Sipping a human, using them as food, was accepted, but giving her his blood in return was beyond forbidden.

“And how do you feel about this woman?” Carac’s voice held no inflection.