The Blood Moons

Chapter Eight

Bug exited the tent and tried to follow Cyla. But when she got there, Cyla was already gone. She sniffed the air slightly, catching her friend’s scent. She followed it for a moment when a scream of frustration ripped through the air. Instantly, she knew it was Cyla, and instantly, she knew she did not want to find her. Not when she was in this kind of mood. She may be a vampire and virtually indestructible. But that didn’t mean she had a death wish or relished in the pain Cyla’s blades would inflict.

Without a second thought, she turned the other direction and walked further into the camp. She hadn’t gotten far when the smell of blood caught on the breeze. Maybe this will distract me, she thought. While the human food she’d eaten that morning had taken the edge off her hunger, there was nothing so satisfying as a meal of blood. And she hadn’t had one of those since Hawthorn’s Paw. She walked around the camp, trying to follow the scent. She ended up at a gray medical tent, this one opened sided with only a canvas top. A few young men laid there, bloody bandages covering their extremities. Bug could feel her fangs forcing themselves to grow and a hungry snarl rumbling in her. She knew she shouldn’t, but she was so hungry.

She took a step forward, drawing a look from one of the men. His eyes flashed black and growled a warning. Bug could hear it, could tell that he was a shifter and dangerous. But the bloodlust was too strong. Maybe she shouldn’t have gone so long without eating. She took another step.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm, stopping her. “Hold on there, miss.” Bug spun around, hissing angrily. How dare anyone get between her and her meal? She looked up to see a man holding her back. She tried to pull her arm from his hand, but he held firm. Was he another vampire? “I know it’s tempting, especially since I can see you’re starving. But we don’t feed on anyone here. Sorry, camp rules.” She exhaled a soft hiss, still smelling the blood. The man smirked.

“Come now,” he soothed, amusement in his voice. “No need to let those pretty little lips get twisted.” He leaned down, placing his face right up against hers. Stunning blue eyes transfixed hers and she felt her breath hitch, feeling the bloodlust finally subside. “There, that’s better. Those green beauties are so much better than those nasty black ones.” He brushed a finger along her jaw, causing her to swallow. He straightened, moving his hand down to hers.

“How about I show you what you can eat?” Bug blinked her eyes before finally coming to her senses. She smirked back at him. When he started to walk away, she didn’t resist. It had been a long, long while since she had had the company of a fellow vampire. She’d missed all the fun that brought.

He guided her away from the medical tent. Twisting through the camp, he finally stopped at the kitchen area. There were long tables forming three sides of a boxed area. A fire with a large pot hanging over it and a fire with a roasting stick over it sat side by side to form the fourth side. Three women stood at one table cutting vegetables, two more at another table kneading bread, and a woman and two men stood at the third. This table had some rabbits and a fox or two laying on one end with their feet and heads bound, squirming and sides heaving. On the other end were the animals that had been already killed and waited to be prepped. It was to this table that he led Bug.

He stood beside the table, releasing her hand. He grabbed one of the squirming foxes and handed it to her. Bug took it, the smell of the animal overwhelming. She scrunched her nose in disgust. He laughed. “The shifters spend most of the day either patrolling or hunting. Mostly, they bring back rabbits or foxes. Once in a while there’s a deer. But it can be tricky. There’s a lot of predatory animals around here, lots of scents to scare the animals away. They have to go pretty far just to find these little guys.

“Anyways, they hunt them, bringing them back here alive.”

“For us?” Bug asked skeptically, hands firmly holding the struggling animal. He shrugged.

“We’re vampires—not the only ones here, in fact. We can’t deny the simple fact of our nature: we need blood in order to survive, to be strong. Living here is everyone choosing to accept that fact.” He picked up a rabbit. “And to adapt.” He’s blue eyes turned black and his fangs extended as he bit down on the throat of the rabbit.

Bug watched him. She admired how elegantly he drank, how the animal didn’t even seem to notice it was being killed until it was too late to even make a sound. A strand of silky black hair fell over his porcelain face. Her eyes traced his strong jawline and pointed nose. Full lips around the animal’s neck. His eyes flicked to her and she blushed.

She looked down at the fox once again. Fighting back a groan of disgust, she bit down. The blood of the animal wasn’t nearly as sweet as from a human. In fact, it tasted dirty. But as she felt her strength restored and her senses heightened, she knew it was sufficient. The animal went limp in her hands and she finally sipped the last drop.

She lifted her head to see him staring at her. She licked the blood on the corner of her mouth, a mischievous smile on her lips.

“You have excellent technique,” she said. He grinned.

“Thanks.” His eyes were trained on her. “My name’s Gregor Valero.” Bug grinned.

“Petunia. But I’d rather go by Bug.”

“Peculiar name. No surname?” She flinched.

“James. But, I don’t associate with them.” Gregor nodded after a moment. He smiled charmingly and took her hand.

“Good to meet you, Miss Bug,” he said, laying a gentle kiss on the back of her hand. Bug giggled.

“Just Bug. You don’t have to be so formal.”

“But my mother would have skinned me alive if I didn’t show a lady respect.” Bug rolled her eyes.

“I don’t see her here, now do I?” She paused, glancing around. “I don’t do I?” A clear laugh erupted from Gregor as he shook his head.

“No, she’s not. She’s been dead a hundred years or so now, I reckon.” Bug noticed they had begun walking away from the camp and towards the woods as they had talked. The silence that came over them was comfortable, something Bug was surprised at. Usually, when vampires got together, there was little time for actual talk. Typically, they were only interested in satiating their carnal desires and then parting ways. But she found herself wanting to continue walking and talking. She stole a glance at Gregor as she stepped over a fallen branch. He was certainly attractive, and his mannerisms portrayed someone who was raised with and still held to his old-mannered ways.

Gregor paused in their walk along the forest path to take her hand and help her over a fallen tree. Even if she knew they both knew she didn’t need the help, she blushed fiercely at the attention. She wondered if this is how it would have felt to have been courted if she had survived past her sixteenth birthday. She doubted it, given how her life had actually been before her death, but it was still nice to imagine.

They walked only a few minutes more before the forest opened out to a lake. Bug’s breath caught in her throat as her wide eyes gazed around. It was like a peace of heaven, untouched by the stain of civilization. The blue-grey sky and spattering of clouds reflected on the calm surface. Trees surrounded the waters like sentinels against the world. Purple and pink flowers dotted the edge of the lake, mixed in among the cat-tails. The cool breeze kissed her cheeks and danced in her hair. She almost giggled at it, feeling like a little kid once more.

“It’s gorgeous,” she breathed. She looked up to see Gregor looking around fondly.

“It’s my secret place to go when it gets to be too much being a vampire in a mixed supers camp.” He walked to a log that seemed to have been fashioned into a camouflaged bench.

“And you are showing it to me? Someone you just met?” Bug asked, twisting a piece of hair. Gregor crossed an ankle over his knee, holding onto his leg thoughtfully.

“I guess I am.” He pursed his lips. “There’s something about you that just makes me feel—”

“Comfortable?” Bug asked, raising a thin eyebrow. He considered her word before nodding slowly.

“Yes. Comfortable.” Bug sighed, turning from him to the lake. A bird dove to the surface, captivating her attention for a moment.

“I feel the same. And that’s strange for me because I’ve never felt comfortable around men, especially vampire men.” Her voice trailed off as she realized what she had said. Gregor regarded her curiously.

“Why is that?” he asked. Bug chewed her bottom lip as she contemplated telling her story to a complete stranger. “Tell me about yourself, Bug James.” Bug puffed her cheeks out before releasing the air with a loud whoosh.

“Well, it’s not a happy tale, Gregor. I’ll tell you that.” She paused, feeling suddenly nervous. Gregor regarded her once more before reaching out and taking her hand silently. Then they sat silently.

“I was killed a hundred and fifty years ago by a mugger,” Gregor said, breaking the peace. “Killed over measly silver coins. Pretty stupid really.” He chuckled dryly. “A passing vampire found me and turned me when I was on the brink of death. Being a vampire was so foreign for me for so long. Still is most of the time.”

“It wasn’t for me,” Bug whispered darkly. Gregor squeezed her hand firmly while she sighed. “My name is, as I said, Petunia James. As in the James family of Tremena.” Gregor’s eyes widened slightly.

“Those Jameses?” he whispered incredulously. Bug nodded once solemnly.

“Yes, the Jameses that have almost single-handedly filled the ranks of The Blood Moons guild and one of the most powerful families in Tremena. Fifty years ago, I was born in Tremena. My father was a spice merchant, mostly. I was their only child, my birth permanently scaring my mother’s womb so that there was never any male heir. This was the beginning of my father’s utter disappointment in my existence.

“When I had reached the age of eight, my parents took me to be tested by the Blood Moons to see if I carried the sorcerer gene. This was the typical age for a child to find out, and if they did, they would then be given into the custody of the guild to be raised and guided in the sorcerer path.” Bug twisted her lips. “I didn’t have the gene. You see, my father had the gene but wasn’t very strong, so he was removed from training at the guild at ten years old and then apprenticed with his grandfather to become a businessman. Despite his obvious talent in the spices business, he had truly always wanted to uphold the James legacy of sorcery. Now, he could only do so by producing the next generation of sorcerers. So, he married Mother in hopes of having a boy. Obviously, I wasn’t.

“But girls could still be sorcerers, so his hope was still not lost. After finding out I could not be a sorcerer, could not carry on the legacy, my father changed. I was nine when the abuse began. First, it was merely a kick here or a slap there. Then, it became more frequent. Every night, Father would drink away his shame and then beat me about my legs, my stomach, my back, anywhere that would not easily be seen. I’ve had my ribs broken, my stomach kicked so hard there was nothing but black and purple skin for weeks. Anything I said would send him into a fury, any cry would make the kicks stronger. So, I learned to take the beatings silently.”

“Where was your mother in all this?” Gregor asked, his nostrils flaring angrily. Bug sighed, picking at the bark in the tree bench.

“Mother was not a strong woman. My birth had really taken a toll on her health. She was always sick one way or another and forced to sit quietly. She tried to help with Father’s business, but it always made her tired, and she would have to rest often. The early years of my life, despite the pain I received from Father, were some of the happiest I had because I would be at home alone with Mother. We would sit and sing songs and she would tell me stories while brushing my hair. She always loved my hair.” Absently, Bug ran a strand of hair through two of her fingers. She stared at the ground, not seeing the dirt but instead seeing the vibrant rug she used to sit on and hearing the faint sound of her mother’s soft singing. The touch of Gregor’s hand in her shoulder brought her back as he silently encouraged her to go on.

Bug chuckled humorlessly. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this. I’ve only ever told Cyla, and that was just the barest of details. But, I feel like this is something I have to say, to you specifically.” She took a deep breath in through her nose as she tried to center herself. “Mother had a pin made on my tenth birthday. It was a metal flower with a red stone in the center. She said, ‘The petunia is something beautiful and fragile in life. But when it protects itself in unyielding armor, it becomes strong and ageless.’ She said that if I protected myself and became unyielding, I would be forever strong and beautiful. I didn’t understand what she meant then. All I knew was that it was the flower of my name. I should have listened to her more.

“As the years passed, the abuse became less frequent, but increased in severity. Eventually escalating into a s****l nature. I was fifteen when I became pregnant. For those precious months, the abuse stopped. I was treated the best I had ever been. But it was lonely as my mother was too sickly to climb the stairs to the attic where I was hidden away.” Gregor squeezed her hand sympathetically. “The day of my sixteenth birthday would also be my last. In a cruel twist of fate, it was also the day of my baby’s birth. She was born under the thunderclaps of one of the wildest rainstorms we had had in years and it was like the storm was too much for her.” Bug took a ragged breath in. “She never even took a breath. My father was furious. The baby wasn’t a boy, another failure even if she had been born living. The beating brought me nearly to death’s door this time. Once he’d left to drown his displeasure, I laid there, waiting to die. I could hear my mother struggling up the stairs and I worried what she would think of her flower now. She touched my precious angel’s face quietly and then came to my side. Tears of regret and remorse were all over her face.

“ ‘Remember, become strong and unyielding, protect yourself,’ she whispered before she took a pillow and placed it over my face. It was as if she knew what would come from my death. After the beating and the grueling labor, I had no strength left to fight her off. My death should have been slow and agonizing as the air was getting shallower and shallower. But as the blackness overtook me, the relief was so absolute and refreshing. I can almost taste it, even half a century later.” Bug closed her eyes, reveling in her memory.

Gregor watched her, the strange and sudden connection to her pulling at him a bit harder. He imagined himself brushing the hair from her face, tracing the shape of her face with a finger. He wanted to wash every bad memory from her mind and replace them with good ones. But what he couldn’t figure out was why? For sure, she was a beauty, but it felt more than just simple attraction. Maybe he didn’t need to know everything right now. Maybe now, he could just enjoy the smooth, cool touch of her hand in his.

“Then you became a vampire?” he queried softly. She half-smiled, head c****d as she side-eyed him.

“Something like that.”

“And Cyla Fillas? How does she, a bounty hunter for the very same guild trying to hunt us, fit into everything?” Bug glanced up at him and the hard, furious look on his face. She pressed her lips into a thin line and shrugged one shoulder.

“She amuses me,” Bug teased. “Honestly, it started as just a curious feeling. Then, it turned more serious. I feel there is a great purpose within her, one that includes me. Besides, after all the time we have traveled together, she’s become as a sister to me. I know, I know, a vampire and a—” Bug clamped her mouth shut as she considered that Cyla probably didn’t want her secret told yet. “Well, a vampire and a human is an unusual pairing of companions. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Gregor grimaced but nodded anyway.

“If you say so, I will trust her. But only a little, mind you. Only as long as you continue to stand by her side.” Bug turned to face him full on, taking both his hands in hers.

“Thank you, Gregor. You don’t know how much that means to me.” She ducked her head, looking up at him through only her eyelashes.

“And thank you for listening to me. I-I didn’t realize just how much I needed to tell my story.” Gregor looked at her with the most genuine look, his bright eyes warm.

Cautiously, he let his slender fingers brush a strand of hair away from her face. His hand paused by her ear, unable to break contact with her. She looked at him, questions and wonder in her vibrant green eyes. What was happening? Butterflies flittered in his belly and warmth filled his person. He suddenly found himself leaning a bit closer and pausing, as though waiting for permission. Bug bit her lip as she leaned as well.

Gregor hovered close to her face, his nose brushing hers and his warm breath fanning on her cheeks. “May I kiss you?” he whispered, gentlemanly as ever. Bug gulped.

“Only if I can kiss you back,” she replied. Gregor’s lips pressed firmly against hers. Soft and malleable and surprisingly warm, he reveled in the feel of her lips. His face tingled pleasantly, a shiver tracing down his spine. His vampiric nature wanted to instantly push him forward, taking it further and further until all s****l needs were fulfilled. But something told him he should take it slow, savoring the moment for once and not burn through the flames of these sudden fires so quickly. He broke the kiss, licking his lips slightly.

“Come on, we should probably head back,” he said, a look of contentment in his face. Bug gave him a mischievous smile in return.

“Not just yet,” she said before tying their lips together once more.