Selena
Varick was a dangerous ally to keep. I was very aware that he desired my blood. But he had stayed his hand so far. And I had to hold onto the hope that that meant something. Even so, I wasn't going to risk him changing his mind and I'd been deliberating all evening what that meant for me.
“Varick,” I snagged his attention, pulling my knees to my chest.
He kept his distance from me as I sat on the bed, always ten feet away, pacing or sitting in the red velvet armchair. He seemed at war with himself, fighting some secret battle in his head.
“Selena?” He raised a brow; his eyes were growing bloodshot and I suddenly realised why he seemed so agitated.
“You're hungry,” I sighed.
“Is that a joke?” he drawled, his sharp fangs glinting at me.
I rubbed at my wrists, the skin tingling there. “If you don't drink from me, what will happen?”
He sighed, knocking his head back against the wall. “I imagine the Helsings won't let me keep you much longer.”
“And then what?” I pressed, making a decision in my mind. The hairs on my neck crept up with what I was about to offer and I dug my fingernails into my skin. If I drew my own blood, would that mean I was in control of what came next?
“Then they will have to feed me something else,” he snarled, raking his nails down the walls so great gauges of plaster ripped off.
I shuddered, dropping my eyes, wondering if there were other girls already waiting in the holding cells lined up to play their sick game. Would Varick drink from one of them? Why was I any different?
As the skin finally slit open on my wrist, Varick's head snapped up. Our eyes locked and I raised my arm.
“Drink,” I commanded, my voice trembling only a fraction. Plenty of Vs had gotten their teeth into me during the game, but this was different. This was an exchange, a show of trust.
He groaned his desperation, shutting his eyes and bashing his head back against the wall again. It was hard enough to knock a normal man out, but Varick seemed unharmed.
“Do it,” I insisted, my voice quaking only a fraction.
“No,” he snarled. “I promised I wouldn't hurt you.”
“But if you don't feed, you'll be distracted. And I need you to help me, Varick. Please.” I lifted my wrist and he looked like he was going to rush at me. He didn't, instead shutting his eyes and shaking his head.
“Stop, Selena,” he begged. “I won't do it.”
I stood, tentatively moving toward him. “Varick, it's alright,” I insisted, taking his hand. His palm was rough against my fingers and I grew curious about his human life. Had those callouses been made then?
“You don't know what you're saying,” he growled, opening his eyes, the whites of them shaded in red. He shook his head as he gazed at me. “You've given enough already. I won't take anything more from you.”
“I'm asking you to,” I urged, a tear slipping from my eye, surprising me.
In a flash, he caught it then wiped the mark from my cheek. “Please don't ask that of me. I won't be able to forgive myself for it.”
“If you don't drink from me, then you will from someone else. Won't you?” I whispered and Varick slowly nodded.
“Someone who deserves it,” he snarled.
“But if you drink from one of the men, they'll know you aren't feeding on me.”
His eyes darkened and he sighed, trying to walk past me without touching me. I shot out a hand to halt him, lifting my torn wrist to his mouth.
“Drink, Varick. For both our sakes.”
He quivered as he resisted a moment longer, then his hand curled around my arm, pulling my wrist to his mouth. His fangs sunk into my veins, so gently that it only stung for a second.
His grip was iron and his bite was deep. The longer it went on, the more I grew to bear it. I'd expected the pain the Vs had inflicted on me in the game. But this was a different experience entirely. I found myself watching him, hardly daring to blink.
He seemed desperate as he drank from me, his eyes squeezed shut like he was in agony. But he continued to be impossibly gentle. Finally, he dragged himself away with a breath of relief, turning from me before I could catch sight of his expression.
I eyed the pin-prick marks on my wrist, running my fingers over the slightly raised bumps. He certainly looked better for the blood; the translucent quality of his skin was gone. He actually looked more human, his cheeks slightly tinted with colour, his deep green eyes brighter and his lips fuller.
I didn't know where to look and he evidently felt the same as we stood across from each other.
“You should know, I rarely restrain myself,” he admitted in a dark tone.
My heart flipped over as I nodded. “Good to know.”
His jaw tightened as he surveyed me. “Are you alright?” He was eyeing my wrist where I was still trailing my thumb over the bite marks.
I dropped my hand. “It didn't hurt, not like in the game.”
“That's a first for me, I think.” His brow lowered and he slit his wrist open, offering the blood to me to heal.
I shook my head. “Better to keep the marks as proof to the Helsings that you're feeding from me.”
He gritted his jaw, nodding and I noticed that the skin on his wrist had already healed over.
A tense silence fell over us. It was as if a moment had passed between us that was even more intimate than the kiss we'd shared the other night.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked eventually, puncturing the quiet.
He started pacing. “Call it instinct, a gut feeling, whatever you like. But the only reason I'm standing here today is because I've paid attention to that feeling in the past. So that's what I'm doing now.”
I fell quiet at that, moving back to the bed and dropping down. I knew that feeling too. It had saved me more than once from my stepfather's anger. Sometimes just the sound of the front door opening set it off in me. I simply knew he was in a bad mood. I could slip out the window and head to the park, or pretend I was asleep before he came for me. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. But at least I'd had a chance to do something about it.
His mouth twitched as he watched me.
“What?” I asked, glancing away to escape his unblinking gaze.
“Nothing,” he grunted, returning to his pacing.
I sighed. “If we're going to be allies, Varick, I'd rather you were honest with me.”
“Allies?” he questioned. “Is that what you think we are?”
“What would you call it?” I challenged.
He shrugged. “Friends maybe.”
I gave him a small smile. “Let's not over-do it.”
He laughed and the sound took me by surprise. He sounded so human, so at ease.
“Alright, allies.” He air-quoted the word, making my smile grow.
I explored his features, the way they had softened and the dark circles around his eyes had faded. “You look...different.”
He dropped onto the far end of the bed, surveying me. “Blood makes me more human. And not just on the outside.” He tapped his head. “There's a lot going on up here right now.”
“Like?” I lifted a brow.
He tongued his cheek. “Give me a minute. I'm trying to work it out myself.”
I gazed down at my hands, knotting them together. My thoughts drifted to Cass and pain lanced through me again. “Varick?” I breathed and he tilted his head, waiting for me to go on. “Why am I still alive? And...not the others?”
A tense line appeared on his brow. “I don't know why, Selena. Maybe you just tried harder than the rest of them. But I doubt it, don't you?”
My gut stirred uncomfortably. I didn't like that idea one bit.
He reached out, taking my hand. I inhaled sharply, finding his palm warm to the touch. “You're-”
He nodded, a slanted smile pulling at his mouth. “Feels good. But it won't last.” His fingers ran over mine briefly before he released me. “Forgive me,” he said quietly. “It's like waking from a nightmare. Everything's new again for a while.”
My heart tugged at his words; it was strangely painful to see him experiencing life for the first time in god knows how long.
“Does your heart beat?” I asked softly.
“Only once every minute normally...but now...” He took my hand and lifted it to his chest. I stretched my palm flat, feeling the soft drum of his very human-seeming heart.
I glanced up, my own heartbeat rising to match the rush of his. “Did you know your heart beats in time with the music you listen to?” I blurted, the words spilling from my mouth. I'm not sure why I'd said it, but it was one of those beautiful things I loved about life. My mother had told me so when I was younger so I could listen to soft tunes when my heart rate elevated. It helped me keep calm. It saved me from the fear of him for a while.
“Is that so?” Varick raised a brow, dropping my wrist so I parted contact with him. The beat of his heart seemed to linger on in my palm.
Varick stood, moving to the top-of-the-range laptop on his bedside table. Flipping it open, he traversed his way through reams of music before pausing on a particular song.
I settled myself on the bed as Ain't No Grave by Johnny Cash played into the room. I choked on a laugh.
“Fitting,” I remarked.
“I always was a fan of irony.” He grinned and I felt as though I was seeing him for the first time. Or at least glimpsing the man he'd once been.
He dropped onto the bed, laying down beside me, resting a hand on his heart and shutting his eyes.
My own heartbeat seemed to spike rather than be calmed by the slow music. I dragged my gaze away from his still form, but he patted the space beside him, encouraging me to join him.
I shuffled down the bed, gazing up at the ceiling. My white-walled prison. Though the bars kept changing, I hadn't been free since I'd walked into the women's penitentiary back in the east of England.
“So what else do you feel?” I asked in a quiet voice. It felt odd to be lying there on a bed beside the same man who had earmarked me for his lunch the first day I'd encountered him. But I was drawn to this human part of him, curious as to who he once was.
He cleared his throat, his hand remaining on his chest. “It's hard to explain to someone who's never been dead.”
A confused smile tugged at my lips. “Well, try.”
He sighed, closing his eyes again. “Nothing leaves you the day you become a Vampire. Memories...the things you like...don't like. They're all still there...just, faded. The thirst takes priority over any other need. And the longer you go without it, the more it consumes you. The less the memories mean. My emotions became detached from my past until all that was left was hunger...rage.”
I shuddered. “That sounds awful.”
“Yes...” His tone was bleak. “But blood restores some of my humanity. Until my next feed anyway. Everything fits together again for a while. I remember exactly why I loved the sea, not just that I once did.”
“You were a captain, right?”
He snorted. “If you can believe that.”
I stole a glance at his expression, trying to work him out. This wasn't the hungry beast I'd been in the room with just minutes ago. “How long will it last?” I needed to know. He'd had a taste of my blood, so what was to say he wouldn't want more? And I wanted to be prepared to offer it again.
“If I'd had a full feed...maybe a week.” He shrugged and I wrinkled my nose.
“A full feed...as in, if you'd killed me?”
Gingerly, he nodded and I had my answer.
“How many people have you killed?” I breathed and he sighed heavily.
“Too many.”
“Do you feel bad about it?” I whispered, my skin prickling.
His brow became taut. “Do you?”
The question hung in the air, slicing through to my soul. I'd never once felt guilt for what I did to my stepfather. Perhaps that was messed up, but when you'd spent years under the roof with someone who drove terror into your heart on a daily basis, their loss was nothing but a relief. Marie's death, on the other hand, was a heavy weight I would have to carry around with me forever.
“You don't kill bad people,” I commented, deflecting the question.
He blew out a breath. “I take what I can get. Either that or become one of them.”
“The Vs?” I questioned, shuddering at the memory of their emaciated bodies, their bloodshot eyes and decaying skin.
“Mm.”
“Have you ever been like that?” I whispered.
“Once,” he replied in a low voice.
I didn't press him further; his body had become rigid. I supposed whatever it felt like for him to be hungry, the Vs out in the game had it worse. Much worse.
“How old are you?” I asked as the Johnny Cash song ended.
“Three hundred and something. Stopped counting about fifty years back. It does things to your head...seeing life pass by like that. I try not to remember how long I've been this way.”
A harsh knock came out the door, silencing the next question that sat on my lips. I wasn't sure I should have asked it anyway. Varick no doubt wouldn't share with me whether or not he truly wanted to be a Vampire. But I couldn't help but wonder, did he choose to become this or was the choice made for him?
“Get on the floor,” he commanded in a rough tone.
I gave him a questioning frown as me made his way to the door. He shot a snarling look in my direction and I hurried to comply. Whether he felt more human or not, he sure didn't look it at that moment.
I dropped to my knees as the door opened.
Ignus stood there with his arms folded and a slim metal device in his hand. “Have you fed yet? Our winner is anxious to get his hands on her.”
Varick placed a palm on the door frame, refusing him access. “None of your business, Ignus. She's mine to do with as I please. And the deal is, she's mine for the night.”
A sick feeling filled my gut. What would happen to me if they took me away from Varick? Vampire or not, the Helsings were in control here.
“Get it done, Varick. Or hand her over. She's yours to eat, not torture.”
“And what do you care?” Varick snarled.
Ignus tilted his head to the side and his bright blue eyes landed on me. His gaze roamed over my body as if searching for wounds. I had no doubt it was to confirm Varick was feeding from me, not to check that I was okay. “I have need of you. Ulvic-”
“I get my twelve hours!” Varick roared, making me wince. He smacked his hand against the door frame and a chunk of wood snapped off, careening in Ignus's direction. My chest bubbled with hope. The boy seemed frightened, perhaps Varick did hold power over him.
Ignus took a wary step back, holding out the silver device in his palm. “Remember who's in charge here, V. You've got a sweet deal on Raskdød. Or would you rather we sent you into the games?” He jutted up his triangular chin, but the fact he was nearly a foot shorter than Varick did nothing to help his attempt at intimidation.
Ignus looked to me again, his mouth twisting grimly. He seemed as though he wanted to say more, but thought better of it at the last moment, turning on his heel and heading away.
Varick slammed the door, his shoulders heaving with deep breaths.
I stood, moving toward him and placing a hand on his spine. He whipped around in a flash. “We'll be left alone until tomorrow.” Varick sat me down on the bed with surprisingly gentle hands.
I nodded, unable to unravel the snake that had coiled around my throat and strangled me into silence.
“You should get some rest.” Varick began pacing the room, running a hand through his long hair. He pushed the bandanna free, shaking it loose so a tangle of dark hair fell around his face.
I sighed, dropping back onto the soft pillows. My mind was a whirlwind, but the last week had taken a lot out of me. And for the first time in a very long time, I felt safe.
I yawned broadly, rolling onto my side and finding Varick watching me from across the room. “Stop staring,” I murmured, my eyelids growing heavy. The angular planes of his face were tempting in my drowsy state; half asleep, my fingers flexed at the thought of reaching out to feel them.
A grin tugged at his mouth - a perfectly human smile. Well, if you discounted the fact Varick looked like an Armani model with the temperament of an angry polar bear. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”