A Vampire's Christmas Carol(4)

The vampire tore his mouth from Ben’s throat. “Welcome to the darkness,” the vampire hissed, and he cut open his own wrist with a quick swipe of his fangs.

“This is it,” William said, his voice almost sad. “This is the moment it all changed for you.”

The blond vampire shoved his wrist over Ben’s mouth.

He’d only tasted a few drops of that blood, Ben remembered. Just a few—

The vampire laughed. Laughed and leapt away. The blond vamp raced back into the darkness, leaving a trail of blood drops in the snow behind him.

“He can’t see you.” William was studying the prone figure on the ground. “We’re watching a memory, and the memory doesn’t watch back. So go on…” His hand slammed into Ben’s back. “Get a close-up look at what you were.”

He didn’t want a close-up look.

Ben could hear a faint, desperate, gasping cry. That had been his cry. He’d been choking to death on his own blood as he lay in the snow.

William shoved him again. “Don’t be scared, vamp, it’s not like you don’t know what will happen next.” His touch scorched Ben’s flesh.

Dammit, Ben was tired of the demon’s burning shoves! He turned around and drove his fist into the demon’s face. Take that, bastard. William fell into the snow and Ben…he whirled back around and watched himself die.

The blond vampire had used his fangs to rip into and across Ben’s neck. The wound was deep. Savage. Blood was all around his body. His eyes were open, desperate.

So this is what I looked like when I died.

Chalk-white face, helpless stare. A mouth that struggled to speak, but with his throat ripped open, no words would be coming from him.

There was only…death.

And death did come. The gasping, choking sound ended with a wheeze. His eyes were still open, but staring sightlessly ahead. His chest didn’t rise. The blood…it was a blanket around him. His final shroud.

Snow crunched beneath William’s feet as the demon moved closer. “Now this only lasts a few minutes. The faster the rising, the more powerful the vampire.”

Ben glanced over at William. The demon was swiping snow off his body.

“You came back damn fast, so that meant you’d be a powerhouse.”

A powerhouse who’d never had the chance to cry out for help before his change.

But, sure enough, Ben saw the body in the snow stiffen. The green eyes changed, becoming golden in color, and the gaping wound in his neck…it closed.

The seconds ticked past in silence.

“You were lucky,” William added, his voice low. “I knew some poor bastards who didn’t rise until they’d already been buried. At least you didn’t have to dig your way out of a grave.”

Yes, he’d been…lucky.

Then the man on the ground—me—started to suck in deep, heaving gulps of air.

“You’re back,” William’s wry voice told him.

Ben watched as his old self jumped to his feet. He ran shaking hands over his neck. Over his blood-soaked clothes.

“Back, but so different…”

Because the man standing there, with terror on his face…that guy had glowing, golden eyes…and two inch long fangs.

“I don’t want to see anymore,” Ben spun away from that memory or flashback or psychotic hallucination. Whatever the hell it was, he didn’t want to watch it anymore. He locked his fingers around William’s arm. “Get me out of here. Now.”

William lifted a brow. “It’s because you know who’ll be coming next.”

“Get me out of here!”

“But if I did that, you’d miss the whole point of this walk down memory lane.” William shook his head. “We’re not done in your past yet.”

“This is ridiculous! I don’t want—”

“This is a lesson, and it’s your last chance.” Then William’s eyes widened as he stared over Ben’s shoulder. “Here she comes.”

Ben almost bit him. No, no, no. Ben did not want to see this. Her. He didn’t want to see her.

His heart pounded hard in his chest. Please, no. She needed to run away. Run—

“Ben!” A woman’s voice called out. Worried. Scared. “Ben, where are you?”

“I don’t want to see this,” Ben growled.

“Ben!”

He found himself looking toward that desperate cry. She was there. She was bundled up in the coat he’d given her, with her long, blonde hair spilling down her back. As she called for him, her face reflected her fear. Such a beautiful face. Heart-shaped, with glass-sharp cheekbones and a small, straight nose. He would have been able to pick her out anywhere.

Gorgeous. Delicate. So very perfect with her dark brown eyes and her lush, red lips.

And, once…so very mine.

She spotted the man covered in blood. She ran toward him. Threw her arms around him. Held him tight. “Oh, Ben! What happened? Where are you hurt? What can I do?” Her hands flew frantically over him. Then… “The blood…”

I don’t want to see this. The memory hurt too f*cking much. It made him want to cut out his own heart. Right. Like he hadn’t already tried that a time or ten.

Ben’s eyes locked on William because he would not, could not, watch that scene any longer. “Simone should have left me in a bloody heap.” Simone Laurent. The woman with the eyes that had seemed to see straight into his soul.