Page 13 of Saved by the Vampire Goddess (Dark Wine Vampires #1)

Chapter thirteen

Valroy

Minnesota Ark Prime—Moments later

I hold her, knowing by the clock that sunrise isn’t far away.

When she falls into a deep sleep, I rise from our bed, and my heart gives a little thump , then skips a beat.

Why, in the name of Jupiter, did I allow myself to sleep with her? Tell her my feelings? Call her Blue Eyes with such affection?

I’ve made this more painful for us both, and I fist my hands in frustration.

By the dim light of a tiny bulb plugged directly into the wall socket, I head to the bathroom. After showering, I scoop up my clothes from the floor and sneak out without waking her, closing the door behind me. Once in the living area, I pull on the stretchy sweatpants and t-shirt I wore yesterday.

I ache for her even now, but I know I can’t abandon Tina to an unknown fate. If my sister has settled happily with Titus, then I’ll fight tooth and nail to return here. I’ll beg Evelina’s forgiveness—assuming she can ever forgive me for abandoning her. But if I don’t depart today, if I continue down this path, I fear I’ll never muster the will to leave.

The ski clothes I used before are in the autocleaner. But first, I have to find her sleep pod, because I’m sure she has one. Ever since I took over her bedroom, she’s disappeared at dawn to sleep elsewhere. I’ve seen her rush to the warehouse elevator more than once as the sun rose.

I eat a quick breakfast, then start my search in the warehouse. As the book explained, vampires used to hide underground, so it makes the most sense to try the five floors in the warehouse’s basement.

Reaching the first basement floor, I grab the tablet by the elevator doors. I watched her work it, and a rush of relief sweeps through me when the device wakes up. I type in sleep pod , and the screen replies with no results .

Damn the gods. What else might she call it? I try coffin , then casket , then sarcophagus . Nothing.

Maybe this floor doesn’t have one. So I repeat the same exercise on all the other tablets associated with each floor of the warehouse, all fifteen.

Nothing. And it’s almost noon. What are my choices? Search all the storage shelves? Try the preservation domes? Give up?

No, I’m not a quitter.

So I start on the top floor, since I’m already there. The grid structure makes it easy to search without getting lost. Then I notice caked soil on the floor. The little robotic machines that scoot around on wheels cleaning everything missed a patch. Did Evelina track it here when she fled at dawn after kissing me by Daisy’s corral?

I follow the tracks and find where the dried dirt disappears between two racks. I press the keys to move the racks apart and create an aisle. Farther down on the right-hand floor, tucked under a shelf and covered with a blanket, is an object that’s about the right shape and size.

I strip off the blanket. Eureka! I grip a handle on the end and drag it out into the main aisle. The lid opens with ease. A pale blonde hair lies on the little pillow at one end.

Twenty minutes later, I’ve staged the pod in the garage on top of the trailer. Now, all I need is a way to pull it.

I take a quick decon rinse, then grab the ski clothes from the autocleaner, change clothes, and stuff my feet into boots, despite having one heel still swollen from the bee bite.

Cooked elk and bottled water are all I need for my journey. I pack a rucksack, then dodge around the beasts who think it’s my duty to entertain them. Racing out the sliding doors, I skip past the agricultural dome, giving it a sour look. Damn those bees. My heel throbs with each stride.

On my way into the domestic animal dome, I grab a carrot from the big basket Evelina abandoned when we rescued Daisy, then jog to the horse pasture. The herd of horses isn’t far from the corral. A big brute of a male horse—not gelded—is heavier than the others, with an extra-thick coat.

The stallion lets me approach, and his gentle demeanor surprises me when I offer the carrot. He takes a crunching bite and follows me, enticed by the orange root I wave in the air. When we reach the corral, I let him have the rest while I check out the tack rack on the barn wall, and, shuffling through the gear, I find a carriage harness. I should be able to rig it to haul the boat trailer over the icy ground.

Standing slightly behind his shoulder, I place a saddle pad on his back, then top the pad with bison hides to protect him from the blizzard conditions outside. The saddle is next, and I fasten the girth firmly but not too tight. A saddlebag hangs next to the tack, and I stuff my lunch into it.

Ready, I lead the horse from the corral, down the tube, and to the hub, until we come to the living quarters. The stubborn animal freezes and refuses to budge through the pressure barrier.

I tug on the lead, and he rears back.

Is it something to do with the pressure barrier? A metal frame holds the sliding glass doors in place, and I run my hand around the frame embedded in the tube’s wall, applying pressure as I search. A small cabinet door on hinges pops open. Power switches. Not much different from what we have in New Rome. I try flipping the circuit breakers one at a time and know I’m successful when the air pressure in the hub suddenly drops.

The horse whinnies and scrapes its hoof on the ground, stepping forward.

Works for me. I grab the lead and guide the horse through the doorway. For some unknown reason, Evelina’s two furry beasts haven’t followed us.

Then I think better of leaving the door wide open. I don’t know what might happen to the habitat, so I throw the breaker back on. The air pressure changes, and I return to the living area, where the horse has taken a big, steamy, smelly dump.

Where is a servant when you need one?

I sigh. I can’t leave the mess for Evelina to find. Not only would it give away how I escaped, erasing my head start, but it’s the least I can do after everything she’s done to keep me alive. I’ll not have her wake up to find me gone and horseshit near the kitchen island.

Fortunately, the horse chose the tile floor and not her precious Berber carpet on which to leave his calling card. I find the broom and pan in a tall kitchen cabinet and clean up, disposing of the mess in the kitchen incinerator, then I wipe down the floor.

Finished cleaning, I guide the horse to the garage. I hook the harness to the boat trailer, then try to figure out how to open the big doors. From our previous foray to New Rome, I learned the garage doors rise on a roller track to allow entry to, and exit from, the ark. Finding what I believe to be the opener, I press the button, but the metal panel remains firmly planted in place.

Crap! What’s the matter with it?

I flip the device over and realize my error. Dammit to Hades’ underground. The device requires photo recognition to operate. Evelina held the miniature camera up to her face, and I didn’t understand why at the time. Now I do. I’ve seen this tech around the palace—something the scavengers provided, manufactured before the Collapse.

All right. No choice. Tying the horse’s lead to the leg of a workbench, I check the time. Maybe I should postpone this attempt. Sunset is rapidly approaching. But I’ve already dragged the sleep pod into the garage, and if I move it back, she might sleep in it again and I’ll lose my chance to return to New Rome. Not to mention I don’t have time to sterilize the shell first.

Shit. My boots. Who knows what bacteria I picked up walking through the garage? I throw them in the autocleaner for a quick cycle, then, with clean footwear on, return to where Evelina sleeps.

I’m striding through the living area when doubts cloud my mind and I stop in my tracks. Maybe I’m going about this all wrong. I could ask Evelina to help. If I explain my idea, she’d let me try, wouldn’t she?

Then I shake my head. She already told me her stance on any future attempts to return to New Rome. It’s not like she doesn’t know the sleep pod’s capabilities. What if she outright denies me this second chance to return, even if I present my logic? Even if I finally tell her the whole story and explain again why it’s so important I get back?

No.

Tina is depending on me. I have to push forward alone.

I crack open the bedroom door. Of course, the blasted hinge has to squeak, and I freeze in place. I peer inside—no movement on the bed. Should I risk turning on the light?

What is it my mom used to say? In for a penny, in for a pound, whatever the hell that meant.

I flip the switch.

Evelina lies there, looking so perfect in death. She fed while we made love, so her cheeks are rosy and her straight, whitish-blonde hair fans around her head, the sheet pulled over her tasty breasts.

The warmth I feel this time isn’t lower down. Instead, a sonorous harmony thrums in the middle of my chest, a tenderness, an affection coupled with a rush of lust. I’ve never felt this combination of emotions before. Ever.

I don’t want to leave Evelina.

I don’t .

But I have no choice.

I sneak closer and hold up the garage door device so the camera can see her face. It doesn’t work.

I thump my head with the heel of my hand. Of course it won’t work. Her eyes are closed. But the device also has a fingerprint pad. Will that work instead? Hmm . Which finger? I settle on the right index as being the most obvious. She played the guitar right-handed.

Carefully, gently, ever so slightly, I move her finger onto the pad.

By Jove, it works! The screen comes to life and gives me the option to hit open.

I turn to go, and a last pluck at my heartstring makes me stop. Based on the stories they tell in New Rome about vampires, my moon goddess won’t wake while the sun’s up, so I touch my lips to hers. One last exquisite taste before I leave. The only goodbye I can give.

My lips press against hers for two counts before I’m slammed against the wall, my ears ringing, her fangs in my neck, an arm crushing my chest, the air rushing from my lungs, my grip on the garage device weakening.

With my last breath, I whisper, “Evelina…”