She knew she’d found him when she caught his scent. Her nostrils flared, as did her thirst. Her coven leader had warned her that her mate was likely her blood singer, judging by her intense need to find him. She longed to feed, to satiate the burn raging in her throat. Her hand went up to cup her neck as she moved silently forward, hearing with a new clarity the banal words he was thinking. Everything had previously sounded like it was coming through a radio station just out of range—she could make out what he thought, but it was fraught with static. As she moved in his direction, his inner voice was clear as a bell. He was harvesting something, worried about the profit to be made, and pondering the offer made by a Jacob Black.
It seemed that his farm was on sought-after land, made more irresistible by the fertility the soil offered. His sire had passed recently, and he was alone on the working farm. Those in town were couching offers in friendly terms, but he knew they wanted to oust him and take what he owned for a song. She found herself fascinated by the way his mind worked, as he realized what they were after and was hell bent on refusing. He wanted to keep his inheritance in his family, though he hadn't accepted any offers of marriage to produce an heir.
She hid behind a tree as she watched him, and she smelled the rotting flesh that rested mere feet below where she stood. It was a pity she’d missed the passing of his father; she might have been able to assist. Compassion was not in her nature, but it would have bound Edward to her greatly. He would have been compelled to allow her to make the change necessary to keep him with her for all eternity. Changing him would douse the flame that rose in her throat as she thought of the scent of his blood. It pumped through his veins at a fast clip as he toiled in the sun. She could almost picture it, could certainly hear it, and the aroma was enough to send her to her knees. She crouched, twin desires of the flesh warring within. One was for the frenzy of feeding from his blood, the other was for the frenzy of mating with her one true love.
Without conscious thought, she moved up behind him, silent as the gentle breeze that ruffled his hair. Only much more deadly.
oOo
He felt a prickling sensation start at the base of his neck. It crept up the back of his skull until it settled on the crown of his head. The wind picked up a bit, blowing his shirt around and breathing on the side of his throat.
There was no time to realize it wasn't the wind on his skin before he was attacked. An agonizing pain stabbed at his jugular and his body went limp as he screamed. He didn't fall, but he couldn't figure out why. He was held up by cold metal rods as his consciousness waned.
When he blinked awake, he was no longer in his field. He tried to sit up, but his head spun and he fell back again. He thought he was in his own bed, but his vision was blurry enough to leave him unsure.
“Lie still,” a voice said.
Panic raced through him. He’d collapsed in the field, and now an angel was talking to him. He was dead. He was dead, and he wasn't in heaven with his parents like he’d expected he would be when his time came. He was in hell, or some holding area, or something of that nature. He was in purgatory.
“You are not dead,” she said.
Oh, this was bad. He was hearing an angel’s voice.
“I assure you, I’m no angel.”
He sat up then, realizing she was hearing his thoughts and responding to them as if he’d spoken aloud. “What’s going on?”
He saw the red-eyed woman and clutched at his chest as his heart beat as frantically as a galloping horse. The side of his neck blazed like someone was holding a red hot poker to it.
“You are my mate. I drank from you to sate my thirst, but I took too much and you lost consciousness. You’ll need to let me change you in order to guarantee your safety.”
She said it all so matter-of-factly, but he didn't understand a word of it. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he felt his adrenaline kick up another notch. “I don't understand. How are we mates when I’ve never met you? What did you drink, and why am I in pain?”
“I could kill you. I most likely will, unless I change you.”
“Change me into what? How?” His head was still spinning. He tried to hold it still with both of his hands.
“A vampire, of course. Like me.”
He fainted.
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