His Captive Mortal (A Vampire Romance)

I climb out of bed and walk to the shower on shaking legs. Turning on the water, I stand under it, numb.

I never gave much consideration to karma. My nana taught me to believe in past lives, and I do but more as a concept that doesn’t really concern me. I know I came into this life with quirks—everyone does. Things that couldn’t be explained by life experience. People have irrational fears of water or choking. A hatred of men or screaming children. A sensation of never having enough time.

My nana always said people in our lives are the same people from past lives—family members are recycled into different roles. Lovers become parents in the next life, children become sisters or brothers. I don’t know how that works with the immortal, but I know for certain Charlie walked back into my life for a reason. And healing him is the only way to release the karmic damage Anka instigated.

I sigh and turn off the water. Now that I’ve experienced how Anka threw the curse, can I undo it?

I lean into the emotions of the dream—fury, jealousy, betrayal, pain. I gather it like a ball around me, hold out my hand and picture Charlie. Then I try to suck the piece of it lodged in him back to me, drawing it like a magnet.

I gasp when I feel it move, jumping and quivering. Charlie moans from the bedroom.

Does it hurt him?

I intensify my effort, sweat beginning to gather on my upper lip, the magnitude of concentration all-consuming. The blockage continues to quiver. Charlie cries out in pain, busting up my concentration. The connection breaks, the cork in Charlie grows still. My head throbs in protest, and I fall back against the bathroom wall, exhausted. I open the door and start to get dressed before I remember Charlie’s edict.

I look at the clock. Nine thirty. Crap! I forgot to call in sick to work. Snatching up my phone, I wrap the towel around my torso and run out to the living room, dialing my work number on the phone.

“Hello, Edith?” I try to sound feeble. “Hi, It’s Aurelia. I’m so sorry, I was up puking all night, and I just now woke up. I don’t know if it was food poisoning or the stomach flu, so I think I’d better stay away from the kids today.”

“Okay,” Edith sighs. “I hope you feel better.”

“Thanks. And I’m sorry, I should’ve called and left a message last night when I first got sick.”

“Yes, I would’ve appreciated that. It will be hard to find a sub now.”

“If I feel better this afternoon, I’ll come in,” I offer, guilt eating at me.

“No. You’re right. If you have a flu bug, we don’t want all the kids getting sick. Stay home and keep me posted.”

“Okay, will do. Thanks.”

I end the call and walk back into the bedroom, worrying the inside of my cheek as I take in my sleeping vampire. He probably won’t wake for hours. So technically, I could get away with putting on some clothes and then taking them off again before he wakes. Plus, he said I had to be naked inside the house, which meant I could get dressed and work in the garden, and if he caught me in the house with clothes later, I could say I’d only just come inside.

But no, the idea of being sneaky didn’t appeal. And obeying him felt naughty in the best possible sense of the word. I want to play our game… to a point. I leave the towel wrapped around my body, reasoning that it doesn’t qualify as clothing.

I return to my study of magic, finishing one of the books and starting on another. So far nothing clued me in on how to rid Charlie of the terrible curse.

“What are you wearing?”

I look up from my reading to find Charlie leaning in the doorway, looking relaxed. His face still holds the color from feeding the night before, and I realize he didn’t sleep so long, either.

“Not clothes,” I insist, lifting my arms to show him.

“Stand up.”

I stand, holding the towel in place with my arms pressed against my sides.

“Drop the towel.”

I hide a smile because I knew the command would come, and a frisson of excitement runs through me. I lift my arms and allow the towel to fall in a heap at my feet.

Charlie folds his arms across his chest, surveying me with a critical eye. I know by now it’s all an act--his way of playing master. He’s not really the prick he pretends to be.

He makes a circling motion with his index finger. “Turn around.”

I slowly rotate, looking over my shoulder as I do. I’m already wet just from his seemingly critical gaze, as if he were measuring my attributes like a piece of meat.