Called By Blood

Chapter 9

Helena drove him to the grocery store, thinking she knew nothing about vampires if a trip to Safeway could get one so excited. Alex commandeered a shopping cart in the parking lot and tried to ride it like a scooter all the way into the store. She felt oddly domestic as they passed through the sliding doors together, while he was as gleeful a kid with a pass to the country fair. And among the crowd of beleaguered Monday-night shoppers, he was the only one grinning.

"It's huge!" he said. "It's like a city of food."

"Don't you have grocery stores in New York?" She turned to glare at a woman who was staring at them and kept glaring until the woman turned her cart around and walked the opposite direction. Alex didn't look bad enough to cause a scare, but between his pink skin and manic grin, anyone would take a second glance at him. That didn't make it okay to stare, though.

Alex said, "We've got a few, I think, but they're smaller. Which way to the fruit and vegetables? You know, that's the section you never go to."

"You mean that place with all the nasty green things lying around?"

"That's the one."

Helena pointed to the opposite end of the store. Alex picked her up and dropped her into their cart, and started to push it at a dead run.

"Alex! Stop!" But of course he didn't and all she could do was squat down, grab the sides of the cart and hold on for dear life.

This was no way to keep people from staring.

They skidded around a paper towel display at high speed. The cart banked and she shrieked like a teenage girl as he pulled them out of the curve. They shot past the same old biddy who'd been staring at them before. Helena grinned and waved.

Alex tossed a loaf of French bread at Helena. And another. She caught them the best she could while laughing, then ducked a third. "Stop it! You're not going—" He silenced her by spinning the cart until tears of laughter streamed down her face.

Every aisle brought up a barrage of questions. "Do you like oysters? Radishes? Gingerbread?"

On the way to the produce section he dropped a pound cake in her lap. A bottle of cocktail sauce. An enormous plastic-wrapped fish.

All she could say about the fish was, "Why?"

"It's beautiful, that's why. What do you think we could do with it?"

Helena raised her brows at the fish and shrugged. Improvisation was way out of her league. She'd cooked for Jeff, following the strict meal plans from his training journals. He sent her to the grocery store with lists and for five years she dutifully produced grim, healthy meals for him. Chicken breasts by the hundreds, mounds of steamed vegetables and whole grains. He ate whatever she put in front of him, but he never liked her cooking. Neither did she. When they broke up she swore she'd never read the back of a package, consult a calorie chart or weigh a piece of food again. Her four food groups were fat, sugar, white flour and caffeine, and she ate things that gave her these four essential nutrients with as little trouble as possible to herself.

Alex, on the other hand, chose food by sniffing. Even things in packages. He didn't read labels, or look at prices, he just snuffled everything he picked up. "This is amazing!" he'd say, drawing a deep breath over his latest discovery. Or he'd say, "What is this? This is crap."

Whatever he liked he tossed in the cart. She gave up on trying to guess what he was going to cook and just enjoyed the show.

They spent a long time in the produce section. While she sat there, buried to her chin in French bread, cradling the fish, offering apologetic smiles to the other shoppers, he walked around fondling the vegetables, holding them up to the light like a connoisseur and of course, sniffing them. "This doesn't smell right at all." He extended a melon toward a mom with a stroller. "Don't you think?"

"It's not in season," she said, nice, reasonable mom person that she was.

"Ah! What fruit is in season right now?"

She pointed. "Try the mandarins."

Alex buried his face in a box of mandarin oranges. "It's perfume! It's like heaven." His flashbulb smile stunned everyone within its range. "Thanks for the tip."

"Your boyfriend's a doll," the mom whispered to Helena with a wink.

"I can juice these, Helena." Alex said, running up to her with his arms full of oranges. He really was kind of cute.

When they reached the checkout line, he lifted her out of the cart. Swinging high in the air, she instinctively braced her hands on his shoulders. Neither of them let go of the other when her feet touched ground. They were posed for a slow dance, but the store speakers were playing Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the USA".

"Who's the DJ in this place?" Alex murmured, looking into her eyes as if he'd just asked a much bigger question.

Remembering the train, she forgot how to breathe for a second. It wasn't good. Liking him this much. The only place it could lead was somewhere she didn't want to go. A life without sunshine. A liquid diet.

"What are you thinking about?"

"That you're healing fast." She pitched her voice for his ears only. "Do you need to find another elk tonight?"

His hands tensed on her waist. All his playfulness evaporated. "I don't think I can do that again. But I'll probably go hunting later."

"People?"

"Yes."

"Paper or plastic?" The bagger asked. Alex let her go.

While he paid for his groceries an idea occurred to her. It was a horrible idea, but it took hold, the pressure of it growing and growing until, as they unloaded their groceries into her trunk she blurted, "I want to watch you hunt. Here."

Alex shut the trunk. "That's a bad idea."

"Why? You said there'd be no more sugar coating."

"You're not ready to see it."

"I am."

He met her eyes, his expression full of warning. "Then let's say I'm not ready."

"You're ashamed. You want me to forget what you are."

She knew what she was doing. She was distancing him. But knowing didn't make it stop. It made her all the more determined to finish the job. "Why don't you pick someone out right here?"

"Helena, no. Just no."

"It's that ugly? You're ashamed?"

He gave her a long "what have I done to deserve this?" look and seemed about to say something sharp. Instead he threw up his hands. "If that's what you want, I'll do it. Choose your victim. Someone alone."

Helena scanned the parking lot until she spotted a cute little blond in a fur hoodie unloading her groceries. "That one."

"I only hunt men."

"You told me you prefer women."

"Women offer me their blood. If I'm going to take someone by force, it's going to be a man."

"You're very delicate in your distinctions. What does it matter?"

"You're right. I'm a monster. I can take anyone I want. Old ladies, babies. What the hell." He turned on his heel and headed toward the woman with long, determined strides. Helena hadn't really expected him to agree. She expected him to tell her to fuck off.

Swinging back around, he grabbed her arm. "Stay close to me. Smile and don't stop smiling."

Their victim was just climbing into her SUV. Alex raised his hand and called out to her like he was an old friend. Helena smiled nervously. Then it happened. Fast as a snake strike. Helena couldn't understand how it went down, but one moment Alex was saying "Hi," and the next the woman was wilting in his arms. Alex held her up like a puppet, so it looked like he was hugging her.

Helena locked her face into a smile. Happy happy. We're all happy here. Just hugging and saying hi. No one glanced at them.

Alex pulled the woman's hair to one side and bent over her throat, just like a movie vampire. Helena was close enough to hear him make a small noise of animal satisfaction as he bit down. The woman made no noise at all. Her eyes weren't closed, just vacant.

After just a couple of seconds he hitched her up in his arms and refastened his mouth on her throat. As he did, one of his hands grabbed hold of the woman's perky ass. Helena clenched her fists. She really hated that he was holding her that way. Hated it.

A few seconds later Alex murmured something in the woman's ear and kissed her gently. On the lips. Then he had Helena by the arm again and they were walking away. Helena looked over her shoulder and saw the woman standing there, dazed but apparently undamaged. Sort of like in nature shows when they catch animals for tagging and then drop them back on the savannah.

They climbed into Helena's car, both of them slamming their doors at the same time. Suddenly they were trapped with each other in the quiet intimacy of the car with all the world bustling around them. They both folded their arms and glared sideways at one another.

Alex broke the silence. "Satisfied?"

"That was disgusting. Did you have to molest her on top of everything?"

"I thought that's why you chose a cute one."

He caught her wrist before she could slap him. "What's wrong? Did I fail your test? Didn't I do exactly what you wanted me to do?"

She twisted her arm, trying to get free. "I just wanted to see you feed. Not watch you feel up her ass."

"It was a nice ass. Why do you care?"

"I don't."

He crawled over her, straddling her hips, reclining her seat so she was on her back and he caged her with his body. A passing man raised his eyebrow at them. "Planning on putting on a show, Faustin?"

"Maybe." He swiped his nose along her neck, brushed his lips over her cheek. "You want to?"

The train dream came back in full force. She wrenched her head to one side to avoid his lips, imagining his saliva mixed with Miss Hoodie's blood and cooties. "If you think you're going to kiss me after sucking on her—"

"You hate that I kissed her," he said, all sexy and smug. "That I touched her."

"I don't care. You're just a tick. A big, bloated tick."

"Then why are your panties in a knot?"

"They're not. Get the hell off me!" She punctuated her request with a punch to the chest.

Chuckling, he rolled back into his own seat.

Alex couldn't hide his grin. His wife-to-be was jealous. And she wasn't scared of him anymore. And whatever little mind game she was trying to play had just backfired.

Would it make her feel better if she knew the blond's blood tasted worse than bruise blood? Worse almost than rat blood. At least he expected rat blood to be repulsive. He'd almost gagged on his first sip of this woman and the foul backspin still coated his throat. It wasn't her fault—only Helena's blood would appeal to him now, and it would remain so until he'd completed bonding with her.

It looked like he was going to be hungry for a while.

Muttering to herself, Helena dug in her pocketbook for the car keys—which were already in her hand. Alex didn't point this out to her, just shifted in his seat and tugged on his pant leg, trying to give his hard-on a little more space without being too obvious about it.

She discovered her keys in her hand and cursed.

Alex decided to risk a strategic retreat. He'd give odds that this could play out into angry sex, but the last thing he needed was another black mark on his record. "I guess we should take a rain check on dinner."

Helena shot him a fuming glance. "At the very least."

"I'll just get my stuff out of your basement and call a cab."

"Good."

A cold front descended on the way home. Alex imagined icicles forming on the rearview mirror. They drove in silence up the long, winding road that led to her house. When they arrived he went straight to the basement and grabbed his rolling bag. On the way up the stairs he called for a cab. When he was done, he found her in the kitchen, slamming cabinets and tossing groceries around. He took a step backward. Where was the ice queen?

"So you're going. Leaving me with this." She brandished a bunch of parsley at him, frighteningly close to tears. "What am I supposed to do with this stuff?"

He wanted to take her in his arms. Instead he kept his distance. "I don't know—eat it?"

"This fish is disgusting." She poked at it as if it might turn on her. "And it has a head."

He walked toward her, backing her against the sink. "Do you want me to come back tomorrow and deal with the fish?"

Eyes wide, she looked up at him, trembling. He watched her consider the offer, fighting herself. Tucking her hair behind her ears, he said, "It's not like I bite."

She smiled despite herself, ducking her head. "That's not funny."

"It'd be a shame to waste all that food."

About as happy as someone agreeing to a root canal, she said, "All right. Okay."

He kissed her brow. "It's a date."

Alex spent the rest of the evening in the hotel deliberating recipes. While he surfed the internet he listened to the Food Network with half an ear, looking up once in a while to check out a cooking technique. He'd planned to wing something that night, but now that he had a little extra time to plan, he wanted it to be really special. He wanted her oohing and ahhing and begging him for more. One way or the other.

But it couldn't be anything too fancy. He didn't have hours to cook. With a twitch of regret he closed a window titled "Lobster Soufflé".

As if he was going to win her over with food. All feeding her did was emphasize the difference between them.

But somehow it seemed like the right track to be on. Drumming his fingers on his laptop, he wondered why he believed that. He didn't know that she had any interest in food at all. What she liked was ice cream. If he wanted to impress her he should just hijack a Good Humor truck and back it up her driveway.

Maybe this impulse had nothing to do with her. He wanted to feed from her, so he felt obligated to feed her in turn. Why? To alleviate the guilt? Why should he feel guilt at all? He never had before.

"Bloody Saint Olga." He snapped his laptop shut.

Mentally he quested out for Helena. Checking in with her was becoming a bit of a neurotic habit. He didn't sense any agitation. She might be watching TV or asleep.

Stiff from hunching over the computer too long, he decided to take a shower, then go for a walk. The hotel shower had no water pressure to speak of, but that was just as well, because even that weak trickle of water over his newborn skin was maddening. Erotic, even. Erotic if he were into being tied down and stroked a million times with an ostrich feather. Which he wasn't. But if Helena held the feather he'd reconsider. Grinning at the idea, he turned his back to the spray, letting the hot water go to work on his neck.

Eight ounces of salmon. 489 calories, 22 grams of fat, 61 grams of protein.

The thoughts came on him quietly, like his own.

Oh crap, I forgot the brown rice.

Alex braced his hands against the shower wall to keep from pitching over. He was wide awake, and Helena was in his head. Clear as a bell. Either he was more tuned into her then he thought, or her thoughts were screaming loud. But what was she thinking about—rice? How urgent could that be?

Maybe there's some back here…no…but even so, it would take too long to cook. Pasta, then, but then there's no fiber…

Banal as her thoughts were, they were invested with a high-pitched anxiety that set his teeth on edge. Like the universe might collapse if she didn't have brown rice for dinner. And what was she doing cooking dinner at one in the morning?

I've messed up again. He's going to be so disappointed.

What the fuck? He? Who the fuck was he? Alex's shut off the water and jerked the shower curtain aside. All the rings popped off the bar and the curtain ended up a wet weight in his hand. Snarling, he threw it to the ground and stalked out to his suitcase. He was going to get dressed, and then he was going to kill someone.

Hey princess, I'm home! A man's voice. Jeff's voice.

He closed his eyes. When he opened them again he saw a kitchen he didn't recognize. He—no, Helena—ran toward Jeff and threw herself in his arms. Jeff kissed her cheek and spun her in circle.

Alex dropped to his knees, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was in her dreams. Yesterday afternoon she'd been pulled into his dream. That made sense. He'd been near her, full of power from feeding, and very horny. But he never suspected she'd be able to invade his mind while he was awake. Or was it the other way around?

"I missed you, baby." Helena kissed her fiancé on the lips. His mouth firmed under hers. Encouraged, she slid her hand around the back of his neck, stroking the soft hair at his nape. "I missed you a whole lot," she said, pressing him for another kiss. All day long she'd been imagining making love with him. She touched her tongue to his, and ran her hands over his rear end.

He pushed her away. "Whoa there." He laughed, but he didn't look amused. Not in the eyes. "Let me catch my breath before you eat me alive."

Helena withdrew, ashamed. Of course he'd be tired from the road, and to be jumped the moment he came in the door. No matter how hard she tried, her timing was always wrong.

"Sorry, honey. We'll eat soon. I've got dinner going."

"Sounds good. What are we having?" Jeff went to the fridge and pulled out an energy drink.

"Salmon. No skin. Eight ounces for you."

"And for you?"

"Four ounces."

He smiled. "That's my girl. We're going to have you back in competition form in no time."

Helena nodded. "We're going to have steamed broccoli with it, and pasta. I'm sorry about the pasta, but I forgot to buy rice."

Jeff didn't look angry. He never looked angry. "But I see you didn't forget to buy wine."

"Just one bottle. All week."

"Helena, you're a grown up. Make your own decisions. But with your family history, I don't know why you'd ever take a drink. It's empty calories anyway."

"My dad isn't an alcoholic. He just likes gin and tonics."

He raised a brow at her. "Whatever you say. I'm going for a run."

"A run? Now?"

Suddenly he had his running clothes on and was heading out the door. She followed him.

"Wait. I'll come with you."

"I'm doing speed work. You can't keep up."

"I bet I could."

He snorted and took off. She ran after him. She was fast, no matter what he thought, and she kept pace with him easily. At first. But then her feet began to drag. She looked down and saw she'd been running in her bedroom slippers and they'd become soaked with mud. Every step she took, the heavier they got.

"Jeff! Wait up!"

He was already twenty yards ahead, running effortlessly, like the machine he was. He didn't look back.

The mud swallowed her slippers. She forged ahead barefoot, fighting the suction. How stupid. And what a mess. The hem of her bathrobe was dragging in it, weighing her down. Why hadn't she taken time to change into shorts?

"Jeff," she called again. The next step sank her up to her knees, and the pull of the mud became even stronger. "Jeff!" This time her voice was edged with panic. "Help me!"

He heard her, and turned around. In a few seconds he'd run up to the edge of the mire, and now looked down at her, mystified. "What in the hell are you doing in there?"

"I don't know." Up to her waist now, Helena raised her arms to keep them clean. "I just got caught. Give me a hand."

Jeff looked at the ring of mud surrounding her, and then pointed to his feet. "These are three-hundred-dollar shoes."

She gaped at him. Hatred, pure and strong, filled her to the brim. She'd never been so angry in her life. She loathed him. If she could grab his ankle, she'd drown him and his shoes in this muddy hole.

"You rat bastard."

Jeff drew back, surprised at her language. She never cursed around him, knowing he liked women to be ladies. "You fucker. You arrogant prick. You goddamn liar. You cheating fuckhead! I know! I know everything!"

He laughed. She was still sinking.

Alex was pacing the boundaries of her dream, trying to find a way in. She was having one of those nightmares where you're trapped, and need someone else to wake you up, but he didn't have time to get to her physically.

"Helena! It's a dream." He gathered his strength and yelled again, imagining the wall between them as glass that could be broken. "Helena!"

She heard. She looked around for him, her brow furrowed. In a small voice she said, "Alex?"

Much to Alex's satisfaction, Jeff evaporated.

"Wake up."

"Alex! Alex!" The mud came up to her armpits. Her eyes were terrified. She held out one hand to him.

He reached for her hand and crossed into her dream. Chest deep in mud, he pulled her into his arms. She wrapped herself around him like a child.

"You can make this all go away. Just wish it away, Helena."

"You'll stay?"

He stroked her hair with his mud crusted hand. "I'd never leave you."

She buried her face in his neck and vanished, leaving him kneeling on the hotel carpet.