It was a very strange experience to feel the blood leaving her body, and not in a happy way, as she sped through the forest. She had to close her eyes since the sight of the ponderosa canopy whipping by made her nauseous. Or maybe it was the smell of this creature who had hold of her. Or maybe it was that he sucked her blood down with a speed that matched his flying skills.

Before she reached the wastelands, she no longer held onto the vampire. She no longer could. She no longer knew anything.

*** *** ***

Gerrod sat against the brick wall. He could barely hold his head upright. His blood starvation had reached a critical point, that place in vampires that put him on the brink of death, wobbling back and forth.

His vision pared down to the still figure on the floor, her red hair fanned over the uneven gray flagstones. Her back was to him, one arm caught beneath, her hand palm up, fingers motionless.

She breathed in light breaths, high in the chest.

She was dying, almost drained of blood.

The vampire that had dumped her on the concrete floor was in a state of ecstasy. “So much blood,” he had said, laughing as he closed the cell door, locked it and headed back up the hall.

So here they were, both dying.

An Invictus wraith had come in earlier to tell him the good news that Abigail had been captured. He’d been too weak to do more than stare at the wraith, horrified. Worse followed when the terms of life for Gerrod and Abigail were established: They were to agree to form a symbiotic pair or be terminated.

“How would we become such a pair?” Gerrod had asked. “I’ve always understood that a wraith must be part of the pair.”

The wraith then explained that for the past hundred years, a very great and wise mastyr vampire, the Great Mastyr as she called him, had been doing experiments with the unique bonding properties of wraith blood. He had also steadily created a deep organization of wraiths, hand-picked for their ability to reason and to follow orders. Hence the recent attacks and the increased number of wraith pairs.

From those experiments, the Great Mastyr had interesting success when he used a human and a vampire. Once their blood was blended in a vessel and a fair amount of wraith blood added, it was as though the couple had become power-bonded like a wraith and a chosen mate. When the Great Mastyr had been informed that the Mastyr of Merhaine himself was dating a human, the rest followed.

Abigail and Gerrod would be the first of many very public experiments.

Gerrod had answered simply, “I would rather die first.”

“We hope that isn’t your choice.”

He remembered thinking there was something odd about this. “Why wouldn’t you just force us to do it?”

The wraith rolled her eyes. “For some odd reason unless the couple consents, if the act is done against the will of either, death follows. The Great Mastyr is still working to resolve this issue.”

He had one more question, since he had never spoken with an Invictus wraith before. “Why do you kill? What is it in the Invictus bonding that creates such sadism?”

The wraith merely smiled. “Killing in this way provides a tremendous rush of exhilaration and increased power. The symbiotic relationship, in which wraith and servant feed one another in a continuous loop helps sustain that power level. The whole is very addicting and pleasurable.”

So here Gerrod was, barely able to keep himself in a sitting position against the wall, with his beloved at his feet, and the only alternative for life that presented itself was becoming a wraith-based couple.

But perhaps what hurt the most was the simple, wonderful fact that Abigail had come for him, even knowing all that had happened, that the Invictus had been making a battlefield out of Merhaine, she had come for him.

He blinked, but it almost hurt to make that much effort. His eyes were wet. So were his cheeks.

The room was an oversized prison cell with a concrete floor and a glaring fluorescent light that buzzed overhead. He turned his head slowly to look out the small window, barred with a steel grate. Why the hell couldn’t he have been more like the fictional vampires and been capable of dematerializing? There were a few who could, but his DNA was just that much closer to human than the vanishing-gifted of his world.

He had speed though, but much good that would do him here, locked in a cell, near-death.

He shifted to stare at Abigail. He missed her, he needed her, he loved her. He recalled the moment at the wedding reception when Abigail had poked two fingers into him and said, ‘You need to lighten up.’

Her light green eyes had sparkled, shining with amusement.

But this was why he had wanted her to leave, this cell and her inert body, drained of precious blood, his greatest fear made manifest, that a woman, any woman, would die because of him, because she knew him or got too close.

*** *** ***

Abigail thought she was breathing but she couldn’t be sure. Did it count as breathing if you sort of puffed your air in and out of your chest? Her ribs hurt. To draw a deep breath hurt too much and yet that wasn’t the real problem. The truth was, she didn’t have the strength to draw a deep breath and her blood felt heavy again, her heart sluggish. Gerrod must be close and in need.

Gerrod, she called out, pathing along his particular frequency.

I’m here.

Where is here?

In an Invictus prison.

Huh. A prison? They’re that organized?

It’s a new terrible night for Merhaine.

I’m so sorry. She had another question, but it just wasn’t coming to the front of her mind. What was it that she needed to know? In fact, she’d been feeling quite desperate to have this particular question answered.

Finally she found it. Are you dead?

Okay that came out wrong, but it was close to the question she wanted to ask.

Did she hear him chuckle?

No, I’m not dead. Close, though.

Oh. She felt too weak to be sad. Another question worked in her mind. Is there any way out of this mess?

Not sure. I can’t move.

Are you behind me?

Yes.

She rolled…sort of. More like scraping and pushing with a hand then her knee, maybe a foot. It was so hard to move and her ribs hurt like hell. Finally, she turned over onto her right side, but had to pant through a few more short breaths. Even then, she couldn’t see Gerrod. She couldn’t see anything. There was some kind of veil over her eyes.

With great difficulty, she lifted her hand and pushed the veil away, which turned out to be a wall made up of her hair.

Gerrod came into focus, sitting not five feet from her, and she smiled.

He was so handsome even though he looked like a bowl of cupcake flour right now, perfectly white. She chuckled, or thought she did, because he actually looked like a vampire. Gone was all that deep rich skin tone.

Okay, now she felt sad.

Gerrod. I don’t want this to be the end. We were just figuring things out.

He pathed, but a different language rippled through her mind. English, she murmured along that same amazing telepathic lane she’d learned to cruise so recently.

Chapter Seven

Gerrod closed his eyes. Looking at her felt like sharp glass cutting into his heart. She was right. They had just started figuring things out, like what a human was doing in his world, setting up a bakery in his lands, having the power to reach his personal frequency, why sex between them was earth-shattering.

But maybe the biggest question was why had he held back from her, resisted her so hard? Because in this moment nothing seemed more important than Abigail, this woman who had told him to ‘lighten up’, made him laugh, then took him to bed after the attack at the wedding when his heart was laden with all the unsolvable problems of his realm.

What a surprise she had been from the beginning. He had tried to get rid of her, for several reasons. Although this had been the main one, that she hadn’t been safe in his world.

Was this really to be the end? What would become of his people? Was it possible the Invictus were poised to dominate all the Nine North American Realms?

He opened his eyes once more. Abigail rested her head on her arm, breaths still shallow, eyes shut.

What came to him seemed to arrive on a golden stream of light, flooding his mind and helping him to understand the true state of his heart: Even if he should survive this moment, if Abigail perished, what joy would he ever know again? She had become this great, brilliant sun in his life, shining on everything, brightening the dullest shadow, giving ease to his heart, and great pleasure to his body. Even her blood had a special quality that…

The thought splintered and a new one was born.

Her blood.

Abigail’s blood. Her ‘blood rose’ blood. He had forgotten the unique properties of her blood, that it was impervious to wraith blood.

A plan began to form in his mind, a great deception.

Abigail, he sent.

Hunh? Barely there.

Would you do me the honor of becoming my blood rose?

A long, long pause.

Finally, Are you sure that’s what you want?

Yes. I think there is a mystery here and I intend to embrace it.

Her eyes fluttered open. He tilted his head to see her expression better. Was there a smile on her pale lips?

Would you be able to live if I agreed to become your blood rose?

I think so.

Then of course I’ll agree. But just so ya know, I was coming back, Gerrod. I had already made the decision to come back to Merhaine.

Just like that, it was settled between them, in a dank Invictus prison. Dear Goddess, just like that.

He shook his head. He understood then the greatest part of who she was and why he loved her as much as he did: She would always sacrifice herself for those she loved.

“Wraith,” he called out, but his voice was hardly more than a whisper. He took several deep breaths. “Wraith.” Stronger this time.

The wraith appeared, her red flowing gown moving about as though having a life of its own. Wraiths were always in flight and almost always barefoot. “Did you have something you wished to say, Mastyr of Merhaine?”

“I wish to complete the Invictus coupling you suggested to me earlier, with the human. I will not have her die because I am being stubborn.”