The Blood is Love by Karina Halle

6

Lenore

It happensas if in slow motion, even though Solon’s pace doesn’t slow at all.

As he’s gazing down at me in sorrow and fear, his warning going through my head—Run! Run Lenore!—his pupils turn bright red and then grow, wider and wider until they take over the blue of the irises and the whites of his eyes, until it’s all just a glossy, hateful red.

Then the transformation spreads.

It starts in the middle of his chest, where his heart is, a blackness that appears and starts to spread like an ink stain. It permeates his skin as it moves, changing the smooth pale texture to something rough and leathery, dark as onyx as it moves out to his shoulders, while more blackness spreads up his arm from his hands, encasing his whole body.

I’m too terrified to scream, too shocked to run. This has only happened once before, this terrible transformation that Solon has been so afraid of, and also during sex. But I never saw it happen, not really. I just saw what happened to his hands, watched as his claws emerged, felt him grow larger inside me as he kept fucking me, but everything about the beast remained a mystery.

I didn’t run then.

I’m not going to run this time.

This beast is mine as much as Solon is.

I’m not afraid.

“Solon,” I say to him in breathless awe, staring up as the darkness comes for his face and everything changes.

Everything.

If it was slow motion before, that inky spread, that oil spill that turned him from pale to tar, now it happens so fast, I can’t even focus. One moment, he’s still something I recognize, still a man, still a vampire, and the next he’s twice the size, in every single way.

I cry out, feeling his cock expand and lengthen inside me, the pain sharp at first, then I’m lost to the horror as the beast takes shape. Solon’s face is no longer his, but another creature’s entirely, something from a nightmare, something so black and dark that my eyes can’t pick up on the features, except for the now snarling and snapping long white teeth, and those red, red eyes, shining like crimson holes. His shoulders jut out like leathery plated armor, his hair turned into a hyena-like mane that goes halfway down his spine, his arms are tree trunk size, his torso this wide expanse of sinewy muscle. His knife-sized claws dig into the headboard behind me, and I hear the crack and splinter of wood as it breaks.

Oh god.

Oh god.

I don’t know what to do.

Despite it all, he’s still inside me, his hips are still grinding into mine, his black leathery skin rough and scraping against my pale tender flesh. He’s biting and snapping at the air, making these deep animalistic sounds that would make anyone’s blood run cold, make anyone feel like prey. Right now, he’s the ultimate predator and he’s not slowing a bit.

And it feels good.

It feels better than good.

It shouldn’t. I said I wasn’t scared, but that doesn’t mean I’m not in shock, and yet each pass of his giant cock inside me, and I feel like I’m on the verge of coming, filled and stretched to the brink with utter ecstasy. If Solon is in control at all—and he must be a little bit—he’s not letting himself get carried away too much. So far, he hasn’t hurt me, he just wants to fuck me like the wild animal he is.

And I want him to.

“Solon,” I say again, hoping he can understand me. His head tilts, those fathomless red eyes staring at me, and I do everything I can not to feel that cold shiver at the back of my neck. “It’s okay,” I assure him. I reach up and grab his hips, my fingers pressing into his ragged, almost pebbled skin. “It’s okay.”

I say that, even though I can’t believe this is really happening.

I’m really getting fucked by the beast.

How is this okay?

He snarls at me in response, presses his hips in deeper, to the hilt, knocking the air from my lungs.

That’s when I feel it.

Something brushing against my ass with tentative movements.

Testing me.

Oh my fucking god, what the hell is that?

Don’t tell me he has two cocks.

No, I think to myself, no, cocks don’t move like that, with control. Whatever it is is prehensile; he’s controlling it.

I glance down, watching as he continues to slam inside me. I quickly run my hands down his rough hips, down his lower back, and over his ass and then…

Oh my GOD.

I feel it. The hump of where it begins.

It’s a fucking tail.

Of course the beast has a fucking tail. What beast doesn’t?

And apparently, his tail has an appetite for fucking too, because it’s poking and prodding my ass like it wants inside me. This is no skinny, weak appendage, but something long and thick and hard, about the same girth as his regular dick, the end blunt, and who knows how long.

Holy. Fuck.

Then the beast starts to pound me faster, the bed creaking like it’s going to break, and the tail slips up between his legs and I’m just staring at it as it swipes around where his cock disappears inside me. It’s too dark to see properly, but then it slides over my clit, the skin ribbed and rough against where I’m so slick and wet and—

“Fuck!” I yelp, coming hard and fast, my body jerking off the bed, and I’m writhing against him as his tail slides back and forth over my clit, over and over, until I’m coming and coming and I can’t gain control, can’t get any air, I’m just obliterated and then his tail slips down to my ass.

Slick and dripping with my orgasm.

And pushes inside me.

“Solon!” I scream, my nails digging into his leathery back, and his cock and tail both plunge inside me, in and out, harder, deeper, tighter, fucking me in tandem, and oh god, oh god, I’ve never felt so full, so wonderfully, painfully full. Every inch of my body feels stretched and filled, the slick roughness of his tail fucking my ass as deep as his cock is, a brutal, punishing rhythm, filling all my space until all I am is Solon, this beast, and—FUCK.

I’m coming so fucking hard I think my head’s been removed. I’m just a body, a boneless, shuddering, convulsing body and the rest of me has been scattered into the universe, never to be put back together again.

“Oh god,” I manage to say, when I realize I’m still being fucked by the beast. “Solon.”

My head is so mixed up. I can barely feel anything anymore.

But Solon, or what used to be Solon, is still going.

Except his thrusts are getting harder, rougher.

Violent.

And then the headboard snaps behind me and the bed crashes to the ground, the mattress nearly sliding off.

“Shit,” I swear, trying to move back to where it’s stable, but Solon growls at me viciously and when I look at his eyes, those red glossy eyes, they’re emptier than they’ve ever been. I no longer see him deep inside, I don’t see him at all. In fact, all while he was fucking me, I had a sense of him still there, still the slightest bit in control. It’s why he made sure his tail was wet before he thrust it inside me, because he still somehow knows what to do for me.

But now I don’t sense him at all. I don’t smell him.

I just smell this sulfurous brimstone, tannis root, a stench of something evil, and now, now I’m starting to get afraid.

“Solon,” I say again, firmer now, but the name means nothing to this beast, and I’m trying to pull away from him, to roll over, and somehow I manage to slide back along the crooked bed and his cock comes out of me.

He didn’t like that.

He howls loudly, this awful penetrating sound that blows my eardrums, and now I’m panicking and trying to crawl away, get away, and then he’s roaring in my ears and he swipes his claws against my back, just a scrape, but enough to flip me onto my back.

I cry out from the pain and stare up at him and he opens his mouth to show a row of dagger-like teeth at the back.

Oh my god.

He might actually kill me.

“Solon!” I yell at him, my voice breaking. “Stop! Please! It’s me, it’s Lenore!”

He snarls against and then swipes at me with his other hand, right down the middle of my chest.

The pain stuns me for a moment.

I can’t breathe, can’t move.

I blink, staring at his claws, at how my flesh is actually hanging off his claws in ragged strips.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

Slowly the memory comes back into my brain, the one I saw through his eyes, when he turned into the beast and killed the love of his life. I have that memory, and I realize that I will be a new one for him.

He will remember what he’s done to me.

And what has he done?

I manage to move my chin to look down at my chest and…

I can see my ribs. I can see the white bone through the layers of blood and shredded skin and oh my god he’s just cut me right open, almost exposing my still beating heart.

Suddenly my lungs fill with liquid and I’m choking on my own blood and then I feel it wet and spreading over the bed.

I stare at the beast, wondering if he knows what he’s done yet.

But the beast just snaps its jaws at me, ready to lunge, ready to rip my head off my neck, and I know that he doesn’t care, that he’ll end me now, tear me limb from limb.

His leathery muscles coil and he comes at me and I throw my hands up in the air to protect myself, choking on a scream as I close my eyes and prepare to die.

But the snarling and growling only intensifies and I feel flecks of liquid on my arms and I’m so scared to open my eyes but when I do, I see him a foot away and my hand are stretched out and it’s like he can’t come forward, like he’s stuck in place, biting the air, his saliva flying on me.

And that’s when I feel it, beneath the blood in my lungs and my exposed ribs and the endless pain: The power. I feel the power coming out from the palms of my hands, buzzing like warm static, moving forward like pulsing radio waves.

It’s my power.

It’s what’s keeping the beast back.

It might be what’s going to save my life.

I keep my palms raised, keep concentrating, trying to figure out what to do next. If my power holds up, whatever this power actually is, some kind of force field or invisible shield, maybe I can buy enough time to heal.

But when I look down at my chest, at the deep ragged grooves left behind by those knife-sharp, velociraptor-sized claws, at the white bone and torn muscle, I don’t see myself healing like it should. My skin feels dead, like it’s not even trying.

Oh my god. What if I don’t heal? I’m going to bleed out here.

“Help,” I try to scream, but I choke on the word and I’m coughing up blood freely, it’s running over my lips and onto the bed.

I roll over, trying to move while keeping one hand aimed at the beast, who is being held back like a snarling wolf, but I’m so weak, and every inch hurts, that I get as far as the floor before I collapse. I hold myself up against the side of the bed and try to call for help again.

I can’t.

I can’t form the words and I’m going to die here with the beast staring at me, waiting for the moment for me to let my guard down.

Help, I try again, closing my eyes, keeping my hands out, palms facing the monster. The power is flowing still but it’s weaker now, just as I’m weaker. I don’t have a lot of time.

Help, someone help me. Solon, if you can hear me, if you’re still in there, please help me. Wolf. Amethyst. Ezra. Mom. Dad! Please, someone help, help. My mother, my father. I need you, please, I need your help!

Exhausted tears are running down my face, every wet breath a struggle. My blood will drown me in the end.

Please, please, please. Someone hear me, someone help me.

Something light brushes against my hand.

My eyes fly open and I see a moth, the same moth I saw the other morning, resting on the tips of my fingers.

Are you here to help?I ask, wondering how delirious I really am that I’m asking a moth for help.

The moth turns its head toward me and stares at me and I stare at the moth and I wonder if maybe this is how I’m going to die, and then the moth flies off.

I turn my head to watch it go over to the window and OH MY GOD.

There is a fucking face at the fucking window.

Five stories up.

I can’t even scream.

I just stare at the white face and the dark eyes peering in at me and okay, now I know this is how I’m going to die, not from my chest being ripped open, not from a staring contest with a moth, but because of fright, because there’s a fucking ghost or a phantom or I don’t know what outside my fifth-story window.

Then the window opens, by itself.

And the person just floats into the room.

I stare at them, the exhaustion and loss of blood making me feel woozy, making me want to close my eyes, and yet I can’t keep my eyes away from the stranger who just flew inside my bedroom.

Also, I’m totally naked, as well as dying.

They land right in front of me and I notice the shoes are black boots, which seems so normal and human-like, and yet when I raise my head back to take the rest of them in, I can’t seem to decide what I’m looking at.

It’s certainly shaped like a human, like a man, wearing a long black cloak and black clothes underneath. But the face is bizarre. I can’t quite focus on it, like their features keep changing. The eyes are the only constant thing, deep-set black eyes, and the rest of the face—the nose, the chin, the mouth, the brows, the skin tone—those keep moving around, always adjusting, a constant blur.

I open my mouth to speak but only blood comes out.

Who are you?I manage to ask inside my head, hoping they can hear me.

“You don’t know?” they say, a very rich, male voice. Continental accent, like rich East Coast. “You called for me.”

I didn’t…I begin. But I did call for someone and someone could be anyone. I shouldn’t be choosy.

“You called for your father,” he adds.

My eyes nearly fall out of my head. “What?” I manage to say, and then I’m coughing again and holy shit. My father? This isn’t my father.

“But I am,” he says. “And if you had only asked for me earlier, you could have avoided this whole mess. You need to conserve all the energy you have if you want to survive.” He waves his arm at the beast and suddenly the beast just drops to the floor with a solid thunk that shakes the whole room, lying there in a heap like he’s dead.

“No!” I scream before I’m choking again. Stop! Solon is in there!

The man gives me a tepid look. “He is just sleeping for now. You should be thanking me that I’m letting it live. I wanted to destroy this vampire a long time ago.”

I’m not thanking him for anything yet. You know Solon?

He gives me a tight smile, his lips changing from fat to thin to old to young and back again. “I know everyone. And everyone knows me. Except, apparently, you. I am Jeremias. And I am your real father, Lenore.”

I stare at him in disbelief, then the image of him gets blurry. The whole room gets blurry. This is my father? The evil black magic warlock witch who just flew inside my bedroom, made the beast pass out with a wave of his hands, and whose face keeps changing every five seconds?

“There isn’t any time to have a proper introduction, I’m afraid,” he goes on, bending down to get a better look at me. I can only stare into his beady black eyes, everything else makes my brain feel like it’s melting. He looks over my wounds. “Those won’t close up. If I didn’t show up, you would have died.”

“But I’m a vampire,” I manage to say.

His lip curls in disdain at that. “You are only half a vampire. And even if you weren’t, this wound would take you out. Lovely little gift that Skarde gave his first child, isn’t it? The ability to maim and kill other vampires with a swipe of his claws, leaving mortal wounds in the immortal.”

God, does Solon even know that?I think.

“Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t,” Jeremias says, tilting his head as he looks at me. “That’s the least of your concerns right now. I can fix you, if you give me a chance.”

How?

He gives me a cold smile. “You’ll have to come with me.”

Where?

“Nowhere in particular,” he says, walking around the broken bed, past the sleeping form of the beast, and into the washroom. When he comes back out, he’s got a black silk robe in his hands, Solon’s, and once again I realize I’m totally naked here in front of a man that’s a total stranger, even if he is my father.

He crouches down and puts the over-sized robe around my shoulders in a rather tender way, covering me up. Then he peers at me closer. “I know we’ve only just met, dear daughter, but I don’t want to lose you. You need me, and dare I say, I need you.”

I swallow down the blood.

I know I don’t have much time left.

I don’t have a choice.

I nod slowly, unable to keep the fear out of my heart.

“Good girl,” Jeremias says to me. Then he waves his hand in front of my face. “Now, sleep.”

And everything goes black.