Chapter 32

Tension was still high between Adam and Zachariah and he felt flustered to the point that he didn’t know what to do. How was he supposed to approach the subject of the attack? He didn’t know his brother anymore. His brother didn’t know him.

He swallowed hard, remembering the pure terror in Zachariah’s eyes as the blood hunter crushed his throat—a blood hunter he hadn’t known. It was all he could do to kill the blood hunter quickly when what he truly wanted to do was torture the man who dared touch his brother that way. The thought made him seethe. He wished he could bring the blood hunter back to life just to kill him again.

He sighed and stooped in the gathering darkness, cupping a handful of lake water in his hands and splashing it across his face. The cold was refreshing, especially to his sore eyes that hadn’t seen enough sleep in the past few days. He couldn’t sleep. To sleep meant to forfeit his position to protect his vampires. And whenever he closed his eyes, he kept seeing flashes of Matthew’s lifeless eyes staring emptily back at him. He couldn’t escape what he’d done, not even in his sleep.

“Not like my protection is doing any good anyway,” he mumbled to himself as he pulled off his boots and soaked his feet in the water. The lake had a certain chill about it that predicted winter’s approach. It wouldn’t be long now before snow started falling from the skies and blanketed the entire kingdom in white. He enjoyed winter. It held a stillness, a quiet, especially in the woods, only mother nature could create.

“Are you done talking to yourself?” Willow asked from behind him, making him jump—he hadn’t heard her approach. “I’d rather you talk to me instead.”

Honestly, he would rather not talk to her at all. To talk to her meant to admit he was wrong in many ways. Besides, he still thought distance might be better than hurting her in the end. Stinging words… Lies… Retreating inside himself. It would be better for everyone if he put distance between them. But there was already plenty of distance between him and Zachariah he desperately wanted to shove aside. Where was his brother, anyway?

He lifted his gaze until he found Zachariah’s graceful form high in a tree, his back against the trunk and one leg swinging free. He looked natural up there. What had happened to the boy who was afraid of heights?

“I suppose you plan to seize my time with or without my consent,” he said. He tensed his jaw as she took a seat beside him, lifting her skirts to soak her legs. He couldn’t help himself. His eyes darted to her uncovered ankles and heat crawled to his neck. He couldn’t stop from reaching for his earlobe and began tugging on it nervously. Admitting to himself that he had feelings for her was difficult, but he didn’t need to admit it to her. This could turn into a very emotionally intimate setting, and the thought unnerved him. He needed to put a little distance between them.

Taking his eyes off her bare ankles, he stared across the large expanse of water before him. The lake was beautiful, with the silvery half-moon hanging overhead and dots of torch bugs flickering in and out of view. He suddenly felt as if he were amongst the stars, with her by his side. His heart warmed, but he quickly pushed it away.

Distance…

“I’m upset with you,” she said suddenly.

He sighed. At least she had the decency to not skirt around the topic. “I know.”

“You put both me and Zachariah in danger by not telling us we were in danger. I didn’t know you already had a bounty! How did they find out? And so quickly?”

He rested his elbows on his knees, staring at the rippling water off to the side in the tall blades of grass that protruded from the lake. “Wyler is determined to get his hands on the blood gem. He likely used his onyx gem to communicate with them as quickly as he did. Master Dalcher found me at the cabin and I lied to you about him being a lost traveler. There was enough evidence there for him to place the bounty.”

She became quiet for a moment before saying, “And Dalcher didn’t fight you himself?”

He shook his head. “No. He’s been like…” He grimaced, casting a glance toward Zachariah who still perched in the tree, giving no indication he could hear their conversation. “He was like a father to me, though I use the term loosely. He pushed me harder and harder as a blood hunter; he was tough on me but fond at the same time. And after losing my parents… I suppose it was only natural to try and find another father figure in my life. And Matthew…”

He paused to take a deep, shuddering breath as the memories he’d tried so hard to suppress surfaced. “I killed him, Willow. Yesterday. In the woods.” His shoulders deflated at the memory seared into his brain.

Her expression softened, and she put a hand on his arm. “Matthew was your friend? You killed him to protect us, didn’t you?”

With a nod, he replied quietly, “Yes. He would have killed me first and gone after you two next. Had I survived, he would have used you and Zachariah as leverage to get my blood gem. You don’t know Matthew like I did. He was ruthless, like Wyler, but he had a great sense of humor that Wyler never did, which often made people underestimate him.”

“And you? How did you fit in with him?”

His past was dark. It wasn’t something he was proud of. Not anymore. And Zachariah certainly didn’t like it either.

“I didn’t,” he answered honestly. “I was serious and quiet. Matthew always accused me of being soft on top of that. The fact that we became friends didn’t make sense, but it worked.”

Her hand traveled up his arm before making slow, soothing circles on his back. A small piece in the back of his mind told him to put distance between them, but he loved her touch. Savored it, even. It was comforting, and he desperately wanted to pull her toward him and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe.

One deep breath.

Two deep breaths.

He had to control himself.

“Can you answer a question honestly for me?” she asked, and he grimaced.

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

He sighed and straightened, turning to face her. What was she going to ask now? His past as a blood hunter? How many blood hunters he expected to come after him? It was a lot. Quite a lot, actually. There were fourteen blood hunters he knew, and some he didn’t know, and he had already killed two of them. He couldn’t continue this pace.

“A few months ago, if you happened upon a cave of vampires, how many would you deem too many before you walked away instead of fought them?”

Now that was a strange question… Why would she want to know that?

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, eyeing her cautiously. “It depends on how old they were. Under fifty years old… I would probably face six at most. Under a hundred, perhaps three. And there would be no way I would want to face two vampires your own age.”

Surprisingly, she smiled. “And if there were over a hundred older than me? Sprinkle in at least another few thousand who are less than a hundred.”

He wrinkled his nose at the idea of facing that many vampires at once. “I wouldn’t set foot in that cave. Not within a league of it.”

“Ahhh…” she said, a twinkle in her eye. “And would you set foot within a league of it with, say, a dozen other blood hunters to come to your aid?”

He had to pause to ponder that one. “We would be far outnumbered. Perhaps if we had a strategic plan to wipe them out, we may have a shot at it. But I doubt we’d get far before the plan failed. I would say, no. Not even with a dozen blood hunters.”

“Hmm…” she said, her twinkle growing brighter. What was her game? “If this wasn’t a cave after all, and it was Ichor Knell, why would it be different? You would purposely forfeit your life by choosing to stay behind rather than seek shelter in a city full of vampires who could protect you from a blood hunter threat?”

His face paled. She had played him right into her hands.

“W-w-well,” he stuttered, trying to gather his bearings. “What if said blood hunter was actually the meal? How would he know he wouldn’t be lunch the moment he set foot in Ichor Knell?”

“You underestimate my kind,” she whispered in his ear, a breathy caress that sent chills down his spine. He fought desperately to maintain control, and he had a feeling he might have already pinned her to the ground to kiss her senseless if Zachariah wasn’t nearby. He couldn’t decide if he wished his brother gone or if he wished him to sit in between them to prevent him from doing what he suspected she wanted him to do.

“How?” he finally asked, albeit distractedly. It was hard for him to concentrate when Willow’s lips tickled his ear, and it completely undid him when her lips brushed as light as a feather against his jaw. He turned his head and it was as if his hands acted on their own accord as he took either side of her face between his palms. But he stopped. Control. Distance.

Why did he want those things again?

But he didn’t let her go. Part of him waited for her to tantalize him more. Though, breathing the same air as she was intoxicating enough. She gazed back at him with those beautiful sparkling eyes of hers, her lips parted as if begging to be kissed. Daggers, he didn’t care if Zachariah was there anymore. He had to kiss her, to feel her pressed against him, to hear her whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

He leaned toward her but froze when she breathed out three words that made shock run from his ears all the way down to his toes.

“I love you.”

He couldn’t move, his body frozen to the spot. His heart pounded ferociously in his chest, blood ringing in his ears. She stared back at him with wide eyes, as if she hadn’t meant to say it, but he had heard it. Those three words…terrified him. How could she love someone like him? He didn’t feel deserving of her love. But he cared for her immensely.

More than once, he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He wasn’t able to tell her how much he cared for her. He couldn’t utter a single sentence to reply. And he couldn’t bring himself to move, to not reply with words, but with a kiss instead. Why was he awkward with her? It was a curse.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, and before he could make a bigger fool of himself, he dropped his hands, grabbed his boots, and walked away with his head hanging shamefully in his hand. He was extremely embarrassed. A woman told him she loved him, and he couldn’t even reply. What was wrong with him?

“Nicely done,” Zachariah said from the tree and he scowled.

“Not a word, Zach.”

He wanted to hide. He considered leaving the two vampires and going his own way, if only to nurse his wounded pride. But he said he would see them safely to Ichor Knell and he had meant it. Yet, how could he face Willow again after his miserable failed attempt at expressing his feelings?

His horse nickered when he approached, and for the second time since they had stopped to rest on their journey, he began brushing the animal’s sleek coat, for it was the only place he could hide without actually leaving. What was wrong with him? He was a blood hunter for bloody sake. Nothing scared him.

Except Willow, apparently.

He didn’t know how long he brooded as he brushed the horse, but he was surprised when he felt a weight drape over his shoulders, a blanket. He turned to see Willow wearing a hesitant expression.

“You look tired,” she said quietly. “Get some sleep. I can keep watch.”

She started to turn but he caught onto her hand, staring at her fingers in surprise that he had actually managed to do that much. Her fingers were dainty, graceful. However, he knew for a fact those fingers were dangerous. He had fought her twice, after all.

“Thank you.”

It was all he was able to say, and he only managed it without looking her in the eye. He felt like such a coward. Feelings were an uncomfortable territory for him. How could he tell her how he felt about her when the thought alone petrified him?

He simply caressed the back of her hand with his thumb before making his way to his bedroll—another place he could hide. Tomorrow, he would be brave, but right now, his tongue hardly worked.

****

Willow stared at the spot on her hand Adam had caressed, a faint smile finding its way to her lips. Her cheeks warmed as she remembered his touch. Although she hadn’t meant to blurt her feelings, it felt good to get them in the open. He would go to Ichor Knell with her, kicking and screaming if it came to that. But she hoped to help him see sense by then, that it was his best chance at survival. And maybe knowing how she felt… Maybe it would convince him to stay.

At first, she thought he’d been horrified by her confession, but she realized it was his timidity getting in the way. She had to keep trying and perhaps one of these days he would feel comfortable enough to talk to her about his most protected thoughts and feelings.

She stamped her foot suddenly. Damn her tongue! He’d just been about to kiss her, and she blurted that out? Horrible timing, really.

She sighed before wandering back to where the bedrolls were laid out, wanting to be as close to him as she could without disturbing him. Of course, she would keep a watchful eye—and a watchful ear—out for danger, but she also wanted to feel the comfort his nearness brought her. She lowered herself onto her own bedroll, close enough to touch him, and listened for possible intruders. Everything sounded still except for the occasional hooting owl or a brush of wind.

Something touched her hand and she glanced down to see Adam intertwining a couple of his fingers with hers, though his eyes stayed closed. The simple touch brought warmth to her heart.

Little by little, his breathing became deeper until she was sure he had fallen asleep, their fingers still intertwined. He looked peaceful in his sleep, none of the hardness present that had accumulated over the years. His expression appeared soft, gentle, relaxed.

Zachariah approached slowly, like a predator wary of its prey.

“Is he asleep?” he asked tentatively, craning his neck to check.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “How does your neck feel?”

“Much better,” he replied, sitting on a tree stump several feet away. “I think that would have killed me if I was still human.”

“You are lucky,” she said as she gently stroked Adam’s hand, grateful that he stayed asleep as she did it. He needed sleep. He had sacrificed a good amount to keep them safe. “Broken bones don’t always heal the way they are supposed to, which is why we have physicians in Ichor Knell. Surgeons, even. Sometimes they have to re-break bones and place them correctly to allow them to heal right. It would have been excruciatingly painful for you, had your bones not healed well.”

He absently rubbed his neck and grimaced. “I didn’t realize that was a problem for vampires. Have you ever had it done to you? Re-breaking bones, I mean.”

“Once.” She flinched as the memories surfaced. “I was one hundred and ten years old. Villagers in a human town where I lived learned what I was. They tied me up. Crushed my hand with an iron mallet. My father was furious. He killed every single one of them and whisked me back home to get seen by the surgeons. The surgery was far more painful than the original injury.”

His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “I will remember that.”

They were quiet for a few moments and she said, “You haven’t fed in a couple days. Do we need to go hunting?”

He quickly shook his head. “I can’t…I can’t do it again.”

“Why not?”

He hung his head and stared at his hands. He looked troubled, his eyes far away. “I don’t think it’s right. The killing. How can I think it’s all right to survive only because I take the life from others?”

“Isn’t that essentially what humans do to animals?”

“Yes… But humans aren’t animals. They’re…people! They have families. Each human we hunt has a family who will mourn them. How can I take a father away from his child? His wife? How can I live with the guilt I feel when I drink someone’s blood? I don’t want to do this anymore.”

She frowned. She had grown up as a vampire. Drinking human blood was a fact of life, and she couldn’t possibly understand him to the depth she wished she could. Finally, she asked, “To the point where you would risk going feral again?”

He sighed and threw his hands up in frustration. “Would that not be better than killing others? How do you do it, Willow? How can you live with yourself?”

His comment wasn’t intended to be cutting, she knew that. But it was difficult to not take it that way. “I have morals, Zachariah. Most of us do. I have lived with the pain of killing the wrong people and I still suffer for it. We have feeding laws in Ichor Knell, and those laws often make it difficult to hunt without breaking them. After all, breaking laws can lead to uprisings. Uprisings lead to vampire deaths. We follow the laws to protect those we love.”

“And what are those laws?” he asked. He was looking at her now, watching her carefully.

“Killing children is against the law. Mothers giving suck must be avoided—their milk has a rather strong scent, easy to detect. The more rural, the better. Those within the limits include travelers, the elderly, those out by their lonesome, even soldiers… I take great care in choosing who we hunt, Zachariah. I hunt because I have to, for to survive, our kind must kill.”

“But…” he said slowly, a look of uncertainty in his eyes. “What if they have families?”

She hated to see him conflicted. Although she hadn’t known him long, she did know he was sweet and kind and thought of others before himself. He had more of a conscience than Adam did.

Of course, she was surprised at first to find out just how much of a conscience Adam had, but when she paid attention, she could certainly see it. It was no wonder his friend, Matthew, had called him soft.

Finally, she answered, “Everyone has a family, Zachariah. We simply cannot do reconnaissance on every single person before we feed on them. We just have to use our best judgment, and you get to decide where your own morals lie. Now, I’m not going to let you go feral again. Are you thirsty? You can do harm to innocent people, the ones we are forbidden to kill, if you let your bloodlust control your actions. Be honest with me.”

“No, I’m not thirsty,” he answered. At first, she narrowed her eyes at him, but then she saw the truth in his expression. She still didn’t understand… One didn’t recover from being feral. Vampires believed that once feral, always feral. Why was he different? Why hadn’t he tried to kill the farmer and the little boy? Why couldn’t he kill at all? It was abnormal for a feral vampire, and even abnormal for a normal vampire at his young age.

However, she decided not to reflect on it anymore. It was giving her a headache.

“You get some sleep too,” Willow said softly, noticing the ring of tired around his eyes. “It won’t be much longer to Ichor Knell from here, but you should try and keep up your strength.”

He paused, but then nodded as he took his bedroll and laid it out as seemingly far away from them as he could while still being within sight. Now why was that? Was he still angry with Adam? Or was it an attempt to give them privacy they certainly weren’t going to use?

She couldn’t help but chuckle while gazing at Adam’s sleeping face. He looked exhausted. And she felt certain nothing could wake him from his deep slumber.

Keeping her ears peeled for sounds of danger, she laid beside him and cuddled into his side. He didn’t stir, and therefore, couldn’t push her away from him. But would he? He had almost kissed her tonight, and a part of her hoped that if he had been awake, he might have snuggled her back.

She wouldn’t give up on him for as long as she lived. He was worth waiting for, even if he took his own painfully sweet time.