Bloodseeker - Colin's Conquest Part 28

Why did it have to be stamped with the name, Jeremiah?

Why after all these centuries did the pain remain so strong? Jeremiah. Her Jeremiah with the lively blue eyes. Her Jeremiah with his blazing blue eyes, clouded with death. Pain clutched her heart as she remembered like it was yesterday ... his torn, bloodless body in the middle of the ruined cottage floor where they lived. The back of his skull smashed in and the gray pulp of his brain pulverized into a pile of grayish cottage cheese. The bite wounds, covering his body, were numerous and severe. In a desperate frenzy, she tore her own veins and let the blood gush over his face and into his battered mouth. Too late, he'd been dead for too long. Her blood pooled in his gaping mouth but she didn't stop staring and hoping that he would swallow until the blood turned to blood colored pudding on his tongue.

As word of his death circulated among them, many of the others tried to claim her as their own. All died trying. She killed them as the one killed her Jeremiah, with her teeth and bare hands. Fury and hatred gave her the added strength she needed to defeat anyone who tried to claim her. Killing every one of the centenarians the same way, she allowed them to approach her, caress her, kiss her and relax with her in their arms. Reaching into their trousers, she caressed their beloved organ and held it tight. Then she attacked, driving her fangs into their throat, ripping out the arteries and veins before they had a chance to strike back.

The centenarian males were no different than human males when it came to their prized male parts. If they struggled, she just pulled harder and if they continued to struggle, she ripped their p.e.n.i.s from their body and held it before their eyes. Blood gushing from their throats and groins, they all lost the will to struggle, the will to even live when they beheld with horror what she clutched in her fist.

She lost time after a while, not living, but just existing and nothing more. How much time pa.s.sed, she had no clue. Time had no significance and she even ceased to feed on human life, instead taking animals of the forest and losing herself there. She could have gone on forever this way had one of them not found her. Stupid centenarian fool. Stupid male.

Word of her past atrocities had not leaked out. This one she found quite attractive and it was a pity to destroy him but he sought her, not to be her companion, but to possess her. Possession was not an option. Good for him that he was young, so still weak compared to her and she did not have to injure his body the way she had many of the others. His blood though was an elixir for her soul and with every swallow she thought she would swoon from sheer ecstasy. The unfortunate male's pathetic attempts at struggling excited her, his soft hands as they pushed against her felt exquisite and it brought her out of her fog and made her feel alive and once again anthropomorphic.

Leaving the forest behind, she again entered the mainstream of life, but she did not take human life. Instead when she hungered, she sought out others of her kind. Human blood no longer satisfied her the way the blood seeker's potion did. Sometimes it took months to find another but find them she did. She also discovered that the male in the forest had not been as weak as she thought, but that her own strength had increased. Capturing others of her kind was now as easy as killing humans to her. She no longer needed to mutilate their bodies, but she took them with ease and even in a semblance of love.

Despite the pa.s.sage of close to three centuries, Jeremiah's death still weighed heavy on her spirit and still she sought word of his killer but to no avail. That is until the day she came across the young one.

She found him as he prepared to pounce on a barefoot peasant girl as she carried water up from the river to her village. Linnea remembered with pleasure that the young one looked like Jeremiah, with his pale gold hair and bright blue eyes blazing with blood l.u.s.t. He waited in the shadow of a large bush that grew branches all the way to the ground and towered over his head at the same time. The glow from the full but waning moon made his pale hair glow with a satiny sheen and she had the urge to smooth his hair back and croon to him.

His muscles bunched and ready to spring into action as his intended prey moved closer. She noted the quivering in his limbs as his excitement grew. Linnea crept up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist, pulling him away before he even had a chance to make a sound. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes grew wide with shock. She pitied him, such an infant to her and she held him gentle enough not to bruise his ivory skin, but tight enough for him to realize her great strength. Carrying him away from the village despite his superior size, she raced across the field of growing corn and set him back on his own feet. He said not a word, watching her until recognition crossed his features and he grew frightened.

"I know of you."

Raising her hand to brush the hair back out of his eyes, she smiled and asked him how he knew of her, but he would not say another word. Instead, he grew more and more frightened until she had to slap him. Holding his upper arms, she stared at him long and hard and realized that she could look inside his mind! What she read there shocked her so much that she released him.

She saw Jeremiah.

The young one bolted as soon as she released her grasp on him and at top speed to get away from what he knew to be sure death.

But it was not quick enough after all. Gathering her wits together, she chased after the fleeing neophyte and jumped on his back, knocking him to the ground. The smell of fear grew strong and she was not without compa.s.sion.

Bending close to his neck, she whispered to him. "I will not harm you, baby boy, if you will just lie still and answer my questions".

Linnea inhaled the scent of his fine pale hair and sat up but remained planted on his back.

"Will you be a good boy?"

"Yes." He stuttered, his fear still clutching him. "Yessssss"

With gentle movements, Linnea rose up on her knees and turned him over onto his back so she could look into his eyes. Oh yes, very young indeed. He couldn't have been one of her kind for more than a year. Her curiosity flared as to how he came to be. The first young one that she came across in all her years of searching, this charming neophyte. She knew that she would not let him go either. Settling herself over his groin area, she smiled down into his boyish face and lifted his wrist to her mouth. He sighed with pleasure when she bit into his flesh and gave up his blood to her, and his life's story.

His name was Tomas and as she suspected, he had been a member of her clan for only six months and his creator, Victor, her Jeremiah's killer. Linnea took Tomas back with her to his lair to await the arrival of his creator. She would have revenge for her mate and she would keep his neophyte for her own! How different Tomas had been then, a newborn neophyte, as opposed to how he behaved just last night when he pulled her aside, meaning to claim her once again as his own.

Victor was wise and knew what she meant to do as soon as he saw her. There would be no fooling him. She remembered the savage fight she had with Victor, not only over her Jeremiah, but also over the neophyte. She didn't realize at first that she not only fought for vengeance but also to keep Tomas! They tore at each other with tooth and nail sinking their fangs over and over again in whatever body part happened to be closest to their sharp canines. Linnea had the slight advantage of a savageness left over from her feral years in the wild. Victor weakened first and she drove her fangs deep into his throat anchoring herself there. Despite his strength, he failed to shake her off him and she drained him to the point of unconsciousness.

When he collapsed, she removed her fangs from his tattered throat and drove them deep into his chest to get the remaining blood from his heart. When no blood remained in his body, Linnea went out of the house and found a large river stone. Raising it high over her head with both arms, she brought it down as hard as she could on Victor's skull, crushing it like a ripe melon and splattering gore across the floor.

Tomas made no move to help his creator. His muscles frozen with an unknown emotion ... trepidation? ... fear? ... hope? When the woman blood seeker turned to look at him, his body melted and he thought he would faint but instead he showed her an apprehensive smile. To his surprise she smiled back, walking over to where he cowered in the corner of the den. She lifted her b.l.o.o.d.y hand to his face.

"You dear boy have a new master now. Do you wish to object?"

His nostrils flared as he inhaled the mixture of her blood and his dead creator's blood. Instead of answering her question he met her eyes, taking her fingers in his mouth one by one, cleansing them of all the blood.

Victor was the first of many centenarians that she dissected, organ by organ. She would find out what made them what they are and why some humans survive and most do not. At first, her efforts were gory and fruitless. She didn't know what she searched for and tore into their lifeless bodies more like a wild animal than a scientist. Getting through the skulls proved a ch.o.r.e and more often than not, she pulverized the brain like she did Victor's as she crushed the skull with a mallet to get it open. Later on, she became more meticulous and clean in her exploration of the murdered blood seekers. Starting with the heart, she searched for differences between Tomas's human prey and the blood seekers she took apart. She found the organs similar as well as the little blood that remained behind in the inert muscles' chambers.

It would be half a century before she discovered the difference in the small pineal gland. The blood seeker's pineal gland appeared larger with more color than the human equivalent. Buried in the brain, it was not the easiest gland to find in her dissections, but find it she did. Tomas remained by her side through it all even though for many decades after he became a centenarian himself, he kept his own lair. He always returned to help her in her quest for the answers to how they existed.

Linnea roused herself and realized that she stood alone in the deserted hall smiling like a simpleton. Her memories of her many years with Tomas as her neophyte were good memories and even the dog tag marked with the name Jeremiah wouldn't bring her down now. Ben stuck his head around the corner at that moment ... and it struck her then how very much he reminded her of the younger Tomas. How she loved the young ones, so malleable and easy to bend to her will.

No, she would not steal her own Colin's child! That thought should not have even entered her mind, but it had. Such a sweet looking man/child, this Benjamin. She grew fond of him already. Though he still felt intimidated by her, he called to her down the hall.

"Are you all right? Are you coming with us when we return home?"

"I am coming to you now, Ben." She made her way toward him. The dusty lights hanging above her head dimmed as she pa.s.sed under them and the color rose in her cheeks. She planned to hold him in her arms and tell him everything would be all right. Linnea wondered why the shy smile vanished off his face as she drew closer.

"Ben ... Linnea"

Colin's powerful voice reverberated through her head. She snapped around to face Colin as he carried Joanna out of the room that had been her prison. Oh but she made that one well! Linnea blinked, once, twice and sucked in a deep breath, releasing it as she lowered her head. Her reasoning had returned, Ben was safe from her clutches and she would not destroy Colin's life.

Twenty-Seven

"What are you doing here?"

"Well I could ask you the same thing!"

The two centenarians circled each other, bristling, trying to gauge each other's strength. Milo looked down on the other male, dazzled by his eyes. Two sparkling realms stolen from the cloudless summer sky framed by the golden heat of the blazing sun in his flowing white blonde hair. Friend or foe, he enjoyed looking at this resplendent creature before him. Not quite his height, but tall, wiry and muscular, most likely a formidable opponent for any centenarian, including himself. Ageless. Timeless. Witless too if he chose to battle Milo. He did not wish this but he would not be the first to break the stare.

Tomas stared up at the red-haired giant who towered several inches over his head. This one had a very kind face. The neatly trimmed red-gold beard softened the angles of his face, giving him a jovial appearance, despite the hardness of those milk chocolate eyes. He even had a dusting of pale freckles sprinkled across his cheeks that Tomas itched to touch just to see if they would wipe off.

This one was dressed for the business world with his tailored suit, creased slacks, and his white dress shirt opened at the neck. This centenarian chose to be part of society, part of the present and he felt comfortable with the humans around him. Tomas felt the first pangs of jealousy. He himself had not spent a single day of his existence as a part of things, a part of life. He wanted to know more about the extraordinary red gold man-creature before him.

Milo noted the change of expression in his opponent and stopped circling to lift his hand to him in greeting. Tomas also stopped his aggressive pacing and stood still, facing him, staring at his proffered hand as if he didn't quite know how to react, and in honesty, he did not know!

Milo smiled, his mustache crinkling at one corner of his mouth, and spoke in almost a whisper. "Take my hand. It is offered in friendship."

Tomas still stared at his extended hand without reaching for him.

"It was not a command, just a suggestion, a request if you will." Milo leaned forward, a small grin still on his face and continued in that same soft-spoken voice. "You know that I couldn't harm you even if I tried, hmm?"

Had he just admitted his superior strength? Tomas grasped his hand now, sure of himself, knowing that he would not have to face this amicable centenarian with claws unsheathed, like he had so many others. They held each other in a strong grip, but not some childish blood seeker's test of strength like the cynical Tomas expected.

"My name is Milo, and it is a pleasure to meet you." He spoke with a sincerity that this older male could feel even if he refused to see it in his eyes. Tomas smiled but dropped his hand and reached to his face.

Milo drew back but resisted the urge that screamed for him to flee and stood his ground. Long, almost elegant fingers stroked his cheeks, first his left, then his right, tender explorations, skimming his skin as if he were the most fragile, gossamer silk. Tomas could not resist brushing across the fiery golden hair on his chin before he dropped his hand. Milo had seen this in many humans. This need to touch his beard, feeling the soft resiliency of the thick reckless growth there. He never understood this obsession, but he tolerated it nonetheless.

Lachlan laughed under his breath as he watched the two males from his vantage point across the street. It had always been this way with those of his kind when they met. Usually they fought, like two alpha males in any strong predatory pack. But why couldn't his kindred get along? Didn't they have the intelligence to overcome the powerful hormones that drove them to conquer, conquer, and conquer?

He reached down by his side to scratch the immense black and tan canine, sliding the soft ears between his fingers. "You did well."

He smiled when the dog thumped his tail.Perhaps his isolation had changed him in ways he did not yet comprehend. What he did know is that he wouldn't allow these two to fight. He stood ready to break them up should they do so. Lachlan wouldn't allow either of these exquisite beings to mar the perfection of the other.

"So, what are you doing here?" Tomas asked in a much more pleasing manner, a slight smile touching his lips, almost joking with his obvious emphasis on the word 'you'.

Milo inclined his head, raising his thick eyebrows to look down at Tomas, left arm across his abdomen and his right elbow propped on his left arm as he stroked his own beard with thumb and forefinger. A caricature of concentration, he seemed to hesitate before he spoke, but when he did, his deep voice flowed from him like water over algae covered river stones.

"I think, my friend, that perhaps we are here for the same reasons. The beings inside this building our main concern and whether it be an insane need to be needed or some misplaced sense of loyalty, simple curiosity or maybe even just l.u.s.t, regardless, we are here and we wait. We wait for them to triumph or fail because to rush in and offer our a.s.sistance without being asked would be an insult to those powerful blood seekers within." He paused, dropping his hands to his sides and smiled that crooked smile of his that crinkled one corner of his mustache.

"Though I would, and I think you would also, rush in anyway should the situation warrant it and worry about their censure afterwards."

His blonde companion's face went blank, his brilliant blue eyes unfocused, stormy, raging thunderclouds, and then just as fast the storm cleared and he turned his head toward the hotel.

"It is finished."

A reverential sigh, his voice, with his lips moving very little to form the words.

Milo could not be sure he spoke at all, or if he heard the simple statement in his mind, but he also turned to face the hotel, sure now that the others would soon appear. Dozens of crescent moons winked back at him through the eyes of the hotel, the many windows, silent reflection pools for the celestial nightlights his kind oftentimes took for granted. Both curious centenarians moved towards the doors, closer to each other than they would have liked to be, but neither one of them willing to let the other be the first one to the doors.

"Would you two act your age?" The silken words behind them caused them both to spin around, on the defensive more than they ever were with each other.

Milo gasped, his mouth remaining open as if he needed a mainline of oxygen and reached over to grasp Tomas' arm. The tension in his muscles almost hurt his fingers but he would not let go. He couldn't believe what he saw!

Tomas ached to throw Milo's arm off, but he allowed the contact since Milo was the younger one. He trembled with hostility, but it may have been aimed more at himself for being afraid of this very ancient being who had caught them unaware. A deep resonating growl started in his chest but he stopped it when the pressure from Milo's hand on his forearm grew painful. He had no idea that the red giant had that much strength.

"Calm yourself, young one, if I intended you harm, you would not be standing now." His velvet voice caressed them like a warm silken tide.

It was all they could do to just stand there and stare at the magnificent man who stood before them. The strength this millennial possessed was incomprehensible ... horrifying! And he didn't broadcast this omnipotence, on the contrary, he stood before them in a very human posture, feet apart, hands at his sides, at ease and amiable, his full rosy mouth puckered into a slight smile.

His whiteness blinded them. White, all white from his collar to his feet. Thick white sweatshirt, white insulated ski pants, white boots. His long gray/white hair hung to his broad shoulders where it stopped in a blunt cut, atop his short but very stocky body.

Tomas didn't think he'd ever seen a more solidly built being. Even his bones had to be very dense to support that substantial body.

The clothes he wore may have exaggerated the size of his body, but he doubted that to be the case. Hmm. His clothes however were very unusual for Texas, or this part anyway."Yes, well I haven't had the opportunity to acquire new clothing yet."

Tomas startled with such violence that Milo dropped his arm and jumped away from him like he'd been shot through with a powerful electrical current.

Lachlan's terse laugh exploded in Tomas' stomach and tore through his intestines frightening him more than a threat ever could.

Tomas backed away, his knees betraying him by shaking like a neophyte's newborn legs.

The immensely powerful being, the being that could crush him with his bare hands, placed his fingers with gentle care around Tomas' forearms right on top of the reddish purple marks left by the tall redhead's anxious grip. He was astute enough to know that struggling was not an option, it would only bruise him and leave the aged white one unaffected ... so he didn't try.

Black eyes, devoid of color, deep, yes, black as coal, but full of sparkling light and they drew his helpless gaze and held him there as secure as the immovable hands on his arms. Tomas prayed that the other two males could not smell the fear that poured from him as his terror thundered through his veins.

The aged one's hair lifted and swayed across his face as a slight breeze moved through the tropical night and disappeared. d.a.m.ned suffocating heat. Lachlan ignored the hair tickling his cheek and spoke to the blonde male he held in his control.

"It is time for you to return home, my young friend." He eased the command into his mind as easy as a modern sub slips through the placid aqua waters of the ocean. Tomas' gaze grew distant, clouded and he turned to walk away without a word.

Lachlan let him go, but held his hand a moment, squeezing as if he didn't really want him to leave. He antic.i.p.ated spending more time with him and the other striking male who slunk off the minute his back was turned. But right now, he had a far more important mission to accomplish and she, his mission, exited the building at that very moment. The ethereal dark beauty walked down the steps, supported on each side by blood seeker males. One, a centenarian, her mate and the other a mere neophyte, who with his creator right there, fought the attraction he felt for the woman. Lachlan understood that attraction. Yes, he understood all right. The young one wouldn't have to worry soon since he planned to take her away himself to where her siren song would not be heard again.

Colin tensed, pushed Joanna behind him with one powerful arm and stood between her and the ancient one on the street. After her abduction, he would trust no one, not even this old one with the lined, virtuous face and smiling eyes.

The picture he made in his tailored black slacks and white shirt open at the throat looked very impressive despite the tiny bloodstains smattered across the front of his once pristine shirt. This centenarian glared back at him, oozing strength and vitality, sure of himself and his ability to protect his mate. Lachlan had been about to say something charming to ease their fears when the woman peeked around her mate's broad back, defying his wishes to keep her hidden.

As soon as her head popped out, she was jerked back behind him by the exasperated neophyte who glared at her and whispered something about her being a pain in the b.u.t.t that they should have left chained to the bed.

Laughter came, gurgling up his throat, a timid slow froth. Then, seeing their dumbfounded expressions, he laughed harder and harder still, losing control of himself to the point of coughing and choking and some unmanly tears that he didn't bother to wipe away. Just marvelous to be so near other intelligent and interesting beings! Lachlan bent at the waist, resting his hands on his knees as he sought to gain control of his crazed laughter. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd really laughed. Glorious, this clenched feeling in his stomach and face.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

Lachlan stood, looking into the flushed face of his newest adversary. His cheerful smile never wavered. He would forgive this centenarian for his rudeness. The battle with his mate's abductor empowered this one with a newfound strength and the ego to go along with it. Understandable for one as young as he.

"I am Lachlan." One small step closer, he lifted his hands palms up as if to show he meant them no harm. The woman's head popped out again and he couldn't resist waving to her like an impish toddler saying h.e.l.lo with a small chubby hand. Her eyes sparkled with her smile, and with that smile, she had him as her charmed servant.

Her protector lifted his arm and nudged her head behind him again, trying to hide the fact that she shoved back, flinging his arm wide for one unprotected moment.

"You realize I am not here to bring you harm." He paused, watching Colin's face. "You or your mate or your young one either."

Colin did not relax his tense stance, glaring at the ancient one, standing ready to defend his family with every ounce of power he possessed.

With infinite patience, Lachlan stepped even closer to the trio and spoke again, this time in a deep-throated whisper.

"You also realize that I could shatter you like a brittle old sheet of gla.s.s if I meant you harm and there is positively nothing you can do to stop me." He had not meant his words as a threat, but he realized in an instant that it had been taken as such.

"I beg to differ." Ominous voice, low, but full of power and sincerity. Lachlan lifted his eyes to the doorway to see the woman that he'd not even known was there! How could this be? Hiding his shock, he watched as she descended to the level of her cohorts and linked her arm with the younger woman without pulling her away from her mate. Tilting up her chin, she looked down her delicate nose at him and spoke to him in the calmest of voices.

"There will be no shattering today, old one. Not of my child, nor of his family."

Lachlan chuckled and with a smile directed to the defiant and very beautiful blood seeker, he spoke.

"As I told him..." His eyes drifted to Colin's stormy face, then back to hers. "I intend no harm."

Pulling her arm away from Joanna, Linnea touched Colin's elbow, calming him, then walked down the remaining steps, head down, watching her own feet as she approached him. Linnea didn't look up until she stood inches from his white snow boots then when she did look up she peered at him through her thick charcoal lashes. Bottomless black eyes burned into equally abysmal black eyes, twins in their intensity.

Heart slamming against his ribs, Lachlan sighed, his words dying before they were formed, zygotes aborted from the womb before they even had the chance to implant and grow. A long lost quickening between his legs, shocked him and he almost put his hand down to cover the swelling that would soon be obvious.

The sultry, seductive voice of his temptress floated to him, yanking him out of the realm of disbelief and fantasy and burying him even deeper in erotic desire.

"So, Lachlan the Ancient, what is it, pray tell, that you do intend?" One white eyebrow lifted, and his lips twitched as he tried to suppress a smile.

"I intend to drag you back into that hotel and take you, hard and savage, just the way you like it." To his amazement, she laughed out loud, pealing china bells ringing through his deflated ego. Such torture! This was not the response he sought!

Her laughter only lasted a moment then her demeanor changed as she leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Promises, promises." Then she stepped back so he could see her solemn expression and tapping right foot.

"Again, what is it you intend?"