Page 11 of Make Me Bleed (Sanctuary #2)

CHAPTER 10

ELISE

N ow that I’ve been fed, Hank disappears again. It’s been days since I’ve caught sight of him pushing past the borders of the sanctuary.

Is this a test? Everything I’ve gleaned about that male… I don’t think it is. At least, I don’t think he intends it to be. He’s been doing his duty, waiting for the moment to provide for his mate any way he could. He had to have known that my thirst was coming back, little by little, and he made sure he was there to feed me when I couldn’t resist him any longer.

Am I supposed to go after him?

You know where to find me when you need more…

I do. Maybe it’s time I go and we have a chat. At this point, it’s long overdue—and that’s on me. I’ve been hiding, and he’s been patient, but while he once said he’ll wait as long as it takes… can I really expect him to?

Bridget thinks I should get to know him. After all, what made it so much easier for her to accept that Conall was her fated mate was that she actually knew him first without the pressure that comes with forever attached to it. He kept the truth hidden in a bid to keep from scaring her off. Instead, he courted her the way a wolf shifter does, and after weeks of worming his way under her skin, I wasn’t surprised when Bridget finally saw what was obvious to me from the moment we arrived in Dyea.

My mating dance is the complete opposite. I was thrust into it with a careless bite, already triggering a blood-bond between me and Hank even before I knew he was a male, let alone my beloved. Now I know that Fate picked us out for each other, and even if I’ve given up on the thrall excuse, that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve come up with countless since.

Flimsy, all of them, and they cover up the real reason I continue to hide: because, of all my fears, I’m worried that I’m not good enough for him . Fate saddled a sweet, protective honey bear like Hank Barret with a vampire whose only power comes from being beautiful and seemingly helpless.

That’s it. The truth. Because while a vampire can’t lie to others, it doesn’t mean we can’t lie to ourselves… and for nearly two weeks, I haven’t been honest with myself, have I?

What if he hurts me? Not physically; despite his size, I’m not concerned with that at all. But if I give him my heart… the only male I ever truly have… and he crushes it? I’ll never recover.

He’s my beloved. He should treasure it, and everything I’ve learned about him makes me believe he will. I’ve been hurt before, though. Peter’s the most recent betrayal, not the only one. I’ve always been the vampire put up on a pedestal, then knocked to the ground when I fail to live up to their expectations.

Peter hadn’t gotten to that part yet. When I fled Clarity, he was still gazing up at me, stars in his eyes and fury etched into every line of his human face. He was ready to turn. I could sense it. The obsession would’ve soured eventually.

It always does.

I need love. Affection. Trust.

I want so desperately to believe that Hank can be the male to give it with me, but a part of my bruised heart is so hesitant to be handed over, kept in the safety of his bear’s paw, I return to my house and overthink like I have a tendency to do.

And then, two days after Hank vanishes into the woods, my head snaps up as someone approaches the back of the house.

In Dyea, visitors come in through the front. In a flutter of hope and anticipation, I meet them at the back door, expecting to find Hank’s irresistible bulk standing on the porch, finally ready to take control of this mating and whisk me away.

Is that what I’m waiting for? I’d say no, but there’s that whole pesky ‘I might be lying to myself’ thing again. Either way, if it was Hank, I… I think I would go with him.

If it was Hank…

It isn’t Hank.

Leaning against the railing on the porch, the pose so practiced I have to keep myself from rolling my eyes at him, is my least-favored vampire.

My stomach drops as his pale blue eyes light up. “Julian? What are you?—”

“Evening, Elise. How have you been?” His eyes dip, nestling on my cleavage the same way his gaze has every time since our first true conversation two weeks ago. “You’re looking lovely as ever. Much less pale than before.”

If he’s fishing for answers, he’ll need to try a lot harder than that.

I purse my lips in a thin smile. “Yes, thank you.”

Rising up, Julian steps in closer than I would like, subtly blocking the exit while also moving near the doorway so that he could step inside easily.

I fall back a few steps, reaching for the doorknob. If I’m lucky, I can slam it shut before he tries. “Is there something you needed?”

“Actually, yes. I was wondering if you’ve had the chance to reconsider my proposition.”

Oh? The one where he gave me blood and I fucked him? That one? “I never really did,” I tell him honestly.

Of course not since I have no intention of agreeing to his terms.

Julian’s expression hardens even as he keeps his faux smile in place. “That’s a shame, but probably for the best. I’ve been meaning to catch you… I realize that I may have made the wrong impression on you when I first approached you about my offer. That, or you possibly misunderstood me.”

I highly doubt that. “Oh? Did I?”

“Yes, Elise. You see, I’m not just looking for a lover. What about a beloved? You and I… we could be good partners.”

I freeze in the doorway, though I’ll give myself credit: I recover much quicker than the last time he shocked me with his propositions.

“I’m sorry, Julian. I thought you knew. I already have a beloved.” True. True. It’s true . “I’m just waiting until we can finalize our bond to make it official.”

Julians pauses, momentarily stunned. I guess he didn’t know.

Then again, maybe I was slightly exaggerating when I said that I thought he knew. Bridget knows. Conall knows. Mayor Lou knows because, as head of security, Conall had to tell him about the bear that was roaming the woods. Hank obviously knows. Anyone who caught him running into Dyea two weeks ago might have gotten a clue, and then there was Helen and Clarice who might’ve overheard more than I wanted them to during movie night.

But Julian… he didn’t know—and he still doesn’t because he says, “Apologies. I wasn’t aware that you were forced to leave your beloved behind in your Fang City before you came to Dyea.”

Um. Because I didn’t.

I stay quiet, though, since I’d much prefer Julian to believe that I have some fictitious love back in Clarity than a possessive bear who might be watching this conversation from a distance even now…

Julian tilts his head slightly to the right. He breathes in deep.

I tighten my hold on the door.

He exhales, a slight furrow to his brow as he narrows his eyes thoughtfully. “You smell different tonight.”

I expected him to change the subject if only to save face, but that… I wasn’t expected him to say anything like that .

“There’s a… musk,” he adds, sniffing again, as if testing the air. “Faint, yet noticeable. Odd.” He pauses again, then his lips twitch. “Though I have caught sight of a bear bumbling near the woods on this side of the town lately. Strange creature. Oafish. Hard to miss.”

He seems to be waiting for an answer. I oblige him with a careful, “Oh?”

Julian nods. “Yes. I only mention it because I’ve been thinking about doing a little hunting of my own. You know, going out into the woods, being a little wild. Human blood is all well and good, but there’s something so… uncivilized about draining another predator.”

My throat nearly closes, a spike of fear tearing through me. I force it back, all while thinking: he knows. Julian knows. He knows about Hank. He knows about the blood. He knows about the prey animals I hunted myself.

And he’s threatening my bear.

My claws shoot out. The points dig into the metal of the door knob, leaving divots. It takes everything I have to hold my fangs back even as Julian smirks.

As my heart races, he give me one last, lingering look before he says in a voice with a dangerous edge: “Until the bond is finalized, you can choose anyone. Think about it, okay?”

In answer, I simply close the door before I say—or do—something that I’ll regret.

Only after he finally leaves my territory do I start to worry about what it means that Julian wants me for his beloved, and he clearly lied when he said he didn’t know I already had one even if my bond with Hank is barely there.

But vampires can’t lie, can they?

I’m restless again. I’m tired, and I’m antsy, and I keep seeing Julian’s smug face as he mentions catching sight of a bear moving through our woods, wondering if it would be enjoyable to hunt him.

I told him I have a beloved. That I have a mate. If he got the wrong idea that my male is waiting for me back in Clarity, that’s on him. I didn’t lie; I can’t . But if he knew that the bear is my mate…

Hank doesn’t deserve a haughty vampire putting a target on his back because I can’t face my fears. I’ve accepted that I’m not afraid of the grizzly himself. It’s the fear of not being worthy of his instant devotion, all because Fate picked me out for him. It’s the fear of setting off into the dark, or pushing myself to actually ask him to come ito the light with me.

What’s worse, I wonder? Showing weakness by pleading with Hank to stay in Dyea with me, or allowing this powerful, dominant shifter to learn my deepest shame: a seventy-four-year old vampire who loses all sense when it comes to the dark.

I’ve gotten better over the years. Growing up, I’ve learned it’s not the monsters in the dark I’m afraid of. How can it be when my speed and my fangs and my strength mean that I am one of those monsters? A monster in pretty packages, of course, but no less dangerous when provoked.

I’ve gone through life with the demure personality that most people mistake for delicacy, but apart from my deep-seated fear of the pitch-black dark and enclosed spaces, I’m not fragile. In fact, I’ve spent the many decades of my life mastering the art of quiet defiance. My composure and my appearance aren’t frivolous and empty—they’re the armor that I’ve needed to survive in a Fang City, where a vampire rarely died, but social suicide was a big concern. Same as my ‘ditzy’ nature. It’s so much easier to pretend not to understand something—the meaning behind a lecherous look or a crude comment, for example—than have to deal with it.

In Clarity, I was always protected. By my parents. By Thorn. Even by a feisty human female who, turns out, isn’t as human as we both thought she was.

Dyea was my fresh start.

Hank promised that he’d give me time. That hasn’t changed. He’s not pushing me at all, but after Julian’s visit a few nights ago, I have to admit that it doesn’t matter. He could be bluffing about hunting my bear. He could be getting perverse enjoyment out of screwing with me.

Either way, it doesn’t matter. When I claimed Hank as my beloved in front of Julian, I made my decision. Hank is my beloved, and it’s time I acted like it with the bear.

Only one problem: I haven’t seen him since he fed me.

Part of me is terrified that Julian made good on his threat and attacked Hank. With a human donor of his own, I just can’t see the proud vampire lowering himself to feed from a shifter—and if he knows that Hank is my beloved, it’s obvious the bear is a shifter—unless he really wants to hurt me. But why would he? Up until two weeks ago, he regarded me as he would the dirt beneath his expensive shoes.

Now? He expects me to believe he’s had such a change of heart, he wants to spend the rest of forever with me?

No. He wants something. I just don’t know what .

I keep looking into the woods, searching for some sign that Hank is out there. I draw the line at calling for him, but if he’s out there, I want to talk to him. Remember what Karl told me at the library, I bought a bottle of imported honey from the commissary and left it on the rock where I found my bear figurine.

It was gone the following morning, with a forget-me-not left in its place. Another gift from my mate, but I still haven’t seen Hank yet. I’m glad he accepted my gift to him. I just wish he realized that it was a signal I was ready to talk.

I could follow him into the woods. I could… but every time I think about it, I freeze just on the edge of the trees. It’s like I need one final push to send me into Hank’s arms. I’d bet that Bridget would be more than happy to give me if I could bring myself to confide in her how my struggle with the thirst had now become a struggle to admit to the bear that I want him, but with Conall’s senses going into overdrive lately, convinced there’s an unfamiliar human scent taunting him, she’s been busy with her mate.

Besides, this is between me and mine. If I can’t go to him, he’ll return to me eventually.

Right?

A week has passed since I last caught a glimpse of him. May’s turned to June, and while I know he can’t be hibernating, maybe he’s gone back to sleep. Maybe… maybe the unfulfilled mate bond is nagging him, too, and his response is to increase the space between us until it’s time to finalize it.

And then, on that seventh night, something draws me outside into the darkness.

At least it’s not that dark. It’s closing in on a full moon. Nearly three-quarters whole, I know that Bridget will be even busier in the lead up, then during the actual event. Wolf shifters revere the moon as a goddess they refer to as the Luna. Because of that, they can only bond their mates to them when the moon is full and the Luna is out. In the days before it, moon fever can strike, and any mated shifters will feel the effects of her power all the way to their bones. They’ll mount and mate and rut with their bonded partners, an event that Bridget confessed is ‘life-changing’ and worth the many hickeys and bites that will decorate her body come the next morning.

For a vampire, the moon has no special meaning. Perhaps, before the invention of high-strength sunscreen, we might’ve worshipped the moon, too, back in the days that we were nightwalkers who burned in the light. It’s been about a century since we could go out without requiring an overcast sky to shield us from the powerful sun. I’ve never been sentenced to a life at night, born when I was, though maybe if my nanny hadn’t believed the old, debunked superstitions about my type of supe in the first place, I wouldn’t be so afraid of the dark, even now…

Tonight, the moon just means that I can see into the shadows. I can tamp down the worst of my nervousness when there is some illumination. It doesn’t bother me, though it’s well-past midnight when my insomnia—and my senses—have me crossing the backyard, moving toward the trees.

I don’t see anyone, though I trust my gut. Someone is out here. Someone calling me to them through a bond so intangible, it’s a whisper on the early June breeze.

And then, carried to me on the wind, in a voice so familiar that I freeze, I hear it.

My name.

“ Elise …”

It’s not Hank.

It’s not Julian.

It’s not even Bridget since it’s a male voice.

Even so, I know it.

Because that voice?

It belongs to Peter.