Page 65 of Caelum

SIX

SAMUEL

“Come on, Eve. Please. Try.”

She squinted at me then sought out the others for help. Of course, there was no helping her more than we were already doing. We weren’t about to let her weasel out of this, no matter how long she made puppy eyes at us. For a second, her teeth raked against my shoulder before she pushed me away in an explosive movement that jerked me in place.

“I don’t want to.”

My new fangs scraped against the inside of my lip as I gritted my teeth, trying not to lose my patience. “Your Vampire needs blood.”

“She can cope without it. I’ll just go nap again?—”

“No!” I burst out, not letting her finish. “She can’t. Not after all the blood you’ve lost recently,” I retorted; just remembering the state of the rug we’d been fucking on was enough to make me cringe.

And the state of her sides after Reed’s Hound had Claimed her in turn? I didn’t even want to go there.

Though the fact she was Vampire today reassured me that the wounds would be disappearing soon, they’d heal even faster if she’d just fucking feed from me.

Normally, a Vampire would feed from his Chosen and only her, but because she’d lost so much blood and was weak from the markings’ effect on her, I’d been relying on the Pack for sustenance. I needed her stronger, needed her to feed from me, just so that we could find an equilibrium.

After glowering at me, she spun around, and I saw her head tip and rock as she took in the scene before her and the very lack of support she had from her Chosen.

It was five days after she’d Chosen and Claimed me, and she was still weakened by the markings that glowed at random moments. Each burst of light had her shutting down like a faulty laptop while simultaneously scaring the shit out of us.

Every single time.

Still, this was the longest she’d gone without the marks glowing, and I was trying to teach her how to call on the Vampire. Something that could only happen if she took my damn blood.

Her other lessons, though she was weaker than any of us would like, had been a mixed bag. Stefan had managed to make her Succubus leak pheromones—a feat at any other time, but one that had us all walking around with hard-ons that wouldn’t quit for a couple of agonizing hours. Seriously, taking Viagra would have strained our hearts less—and the songs she and Eren had sung while her Lorelei was in charge had put us back a day’s travel.

After accidentally lulling the crew into sleeping for a full eighteen hours, we’d had a hell of a time explaining that . Only the promise of another ten grand for the rental of the yacht had stopped the captain’s threats of dumping us at the nearest port for daring to ‘endanger’ his crew.

She was getting nowhere with Dre because he was being a dick, and her Hell Hound was more temperamental than even Reed’s, which was truly saying something. Today was her Vampire’s turn, and it looked set to be an epic failure. With the gouille on track for tomorrow, I could only hope Nestor would succeed in teaching her something where the rest of us, save for Stefan and Eren, had failed.

But though she was weak in some ways, she was strong in others, and through her lesson with Stefan, she’d drawn out his Incubus, had helped him dominate the other souls, cannibalizing them and making him a true Incubus as I was now a true Vampire. Tomorrow, we were hoping she’d do the same with Nestor, meaning she’d have drawn all of us into the natural evolution of graduation.

Years ahead of schedule.

Describing her as ‘strong’ felt like a gross understatement sometimes.

She was incredible.

And she was ours.

I watched her glance around the indoor sitting room we’d claimed as ours while she’d been knocked out, and with her Chosen dotted around, I knew she found a glimmer of peace from them as the tension in her back lessened, and she stopped standing there like a soldier on parade.

Frazer was lolling against an armchair. Incapable of sitting in it the proper way, he had his legs over the armrest, a drawing pad on his lap as he sketched with a pencil. He was always private as hell with his drawings, but he guarded these like a miser would his treasure. Yesterday, when Eve had asked to look at them, she’d blushed bright red, and I had a feeling they were related to their Claiming—a thought that had my lips curving in amusement.

Eren and Dre were bickering as they played a game of chess. Almost on the mend now, Nestor was still taking it easy from his beating and near-miss with the Ghouls, so he was slouched against the sofa watching a documentary that I was fighting Eve’s focus over because she wanted to watch it too. Stefan, legs crossed at the ankles, had a knife in his hand and he was carving apples so they looked like pinecones. He had a pile of them on the coffee table in front of him, each in various stages of turning brown after exposure to the air. Why he was doing that was a question I wasn’t willing to ask.

Some people watched TV or played chess; others whittled fucking fruit.

Whatever floated your boat.

Reed was in some bizarre position that kind of looked as though he were giving himself head—he was on his back, his feet hooked behind his head, and he’d slotted himself through the gap so he could bring his hands together in a prayer pose.

“How is that even comfortable?” Eve muttered, and I realized she was staring at him too, except her head was tilted as she took in all the bewildering angles of Reed’s body.

“He says it helps him calm down.”

She looked over her shoulder to blink at me. “Does it work?”

I shrugged. “It seems to.”

“Works even better if you don’t talk about me when I’m nearby,” the man himself muttered without opening his eyes.

Eve’s ears turned pink, but she mumbled, “Sorry, Reed.”

His lips twitched. “It’s okay, Eve. You should try it sometime. It might help you.”

“Help me, what? Break a leg?” She shook her head. “It’s okay. I think I’ll?—”

I cocked a brow at her. “Think you’ll…, what?”

“Nothing.”

“You won’t learn control if you don’t try things out. ”

She sniffed. “I’d prefer to try yoga than bite you.”

“Why, though?” I demanded, aware that I was huffing and not giving a damn about it either.

“Because it’s weird.”

Dre snorted. “Eve, you epitomize weird. It should be right up your street.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re just as weird as I am.”

“Yeah?” He took his attention off the game after he placed his rook down in a square that had Eren grumbling and studiously glowering at the chessboard. “Like to explain that?”

“You grow cacti for fun,” she retorted.

“Not anymore,” he returned, baring his teeth at her. “Someone had me leaving my cacti behind.”

Her eyes flared wide and she staggered back. “I-I did.” The sorrow in her tone had everyone breaking off from what they were doing and staring over at her before instantly shooting Dre glares. When she saw them, though, she shook her head. “No. He’s right. I-I shouldn’t have mentioned it. It was wrong of me. I’m sorry, Dre. Not just for using your hobby against you but for making you leave them behind.”

Dre rolled his eyes—did I mention he was a prick?—but he raised my perception of him by dipping his chin. “It’s okay, Eve. I can grow some more when we eventually get settled somewhere.”

When he averted his attention to the board, I knew it was because her sincerity had surprised him. Eve, though she made many mistakes and had a tendency to allow her emotions to guide her, was a kind woman. She was gentle, too, in the grand scheme of things. Hurting someone for the sake of it wasn’t like her, and I knew Dre brought that out in her, me too if I were being honest, though I was trying to quell my sarcasm around her. It was hard. Being a Brit, my sense of humor was dark.

I reached over and cupped her shoulder. “It’s okay, Eve. You didn’t mean to hurt his feelings.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t.” She reached up and rubbed her temple. “I’m going to go and lie down.”

I hadn’t seen her arms glimmer with light, so I knew she was escaping to get some quiet, which was a shame because being around us as a Pack would ease her.

I didn’t argue, though, just let her head out to the stateroom I’d claimed her in. Before she crossed the threshold, I did call out, “I’ll be in later to change your bandages. ”

Her cheeks were pale and her eyes wet as she turned to nod at me. Spying her tears, I released a sigh.

“She’s too soft for her own good,” Dre commented, his tone harsh enough to make me narrow my eyes at him.

“That softness will be our savior,” I retorted. “And don’t bitch about her when she was so quick to apologize. Eve didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It wasn’t intentional.”

He shrugged. “She didn’t hurt my feelings.”

“Bullshit. Unless you intentionally wanted her to feel like shit?” I cocked a brow at him, unsure why he was fighting this so hard. She’d Chosen him, and after having been out in the cold, the only one not Chosen for a time, I knew how crap that felt and how lucky Dre was.

The wanker.

Stefan sighed as he placed his whittled apple on the coffee table in front of him. “Dre, why you have to be so antagonistic toward her is beyond me.”

“She doesn’t fart perfume and breathe glitter,” Dre retorted. “She isn’t perfect, and you treating her like she is will do no good.”

“Being mean will do the opposite?” Eren countered. “She isn’t perfect. We know that without you ramming the point home. But she’s the softness we need to counter all the shit we’ve been through. If you think that’s bad, then you don’t deserve her.” His words rang out around the sitting room, echoing in a silence that was only disturbed by the documentary Nestor was watching.

None of us said another word because Eren had hit the nail on the head.

Dre didn’t deserve her softness, not without an attitude check. Eve wasn’t perfect, she had flaws, but for us? She was ours. We’d accept those flaws because they were a part of her makeup, just as she’d accept ours.

That was how being a Chosen worked.

And whether Dre liked it or not, whether he liked Eve or not, he was her Chosen.