Blood Gift: Paranormal Vampire Romance (Blood Immortal Book 5) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Epilogue

  Blood Gift

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Afterword

  Blood Gift

  Blood Immortal

  Ava Benton

  Contents

  Blood Gift

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Blood Gift

  Vanessa’s plagued with dreams of a gorgeous man with haunting eyes that saves her from the grasp of an enemy sorcerer. Until she realizes the man’s not a dream.

  Gentry’s an outcast sorcerer strip of his powers, trying to figure out what he’s supposed to do with his life, until he starts having these dreams, where he’s saving a woman and he’s got his magic back.

  And then one day, she walks into his life, and turns it upside down.

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  Prologue

  Years ago, more like centuries and centuries ago, there a new strain of vampires was brought to creation. Nightwardens, they were called by those who knew of their existence. A Nightwarden’s mission was simple. Guard the High Sorceress he was assigned to until needed no longer, then return back to his place deep within the earth, a place called The Fold.

  A new High Sorceress would come to power every so often among the covens. Some covens were fortunate enough to have Nightwardens to keep them safe. These Nightwardens were bodyguards in essence, except they were bodyguards without a choice. Bound by the blood of the one they were charged with protecting, the Nightwardens were faithful, monastic, and unemotional. Or so it was thought.

  No one counted on the emotions that would arise in these creatures that walk the dark and protect the sorceresses that wield power.

  1

  Vanessa

  It was always the same. Every night. I would go to bed telling myself it would be different, that I would sleep well, that nothing happening behind my eyelids was real.

  It can’t hurt me.

  But it felt real. I could taste the fear as it filled my mouth. I could smell my sweat—sour and pungent—as I waited for something to happen.

  Anything.

  Death or escape.

  It didn’t matter to me at that point, after hearing what he wanted to do to me. After knowing how serious he was.

  He wanted to hurt me. Make me scream in agony. Drain my power. Leave me dead. Not just dead, either. Torn to pieces, someplace public. I would be the crown jewel in his scheme. He had been waiting a long time for me.

  It always came back, just as fresh and clear as if I were still there. In that terrible place that reeked of death and was always cold, always dark. Ruined. The way he wanted to ruin me.

  I’d wake up with my heart racing fast enough to nauseate me. Drenched in cold sweat to the point where my sheets would be soaked in it.

  I’d have to get up and change the bed before going back to sleep. Most of the time, I didn’t bother trying. What was the point when I would only revisit the same nightmare again and again?

  It was the same one cold night in mid-October, when I wrapped myself in my silk robe and padded barefoot to the living room. The walk felt endless. Sometimes I thought about moving to another apartment, especially when I woke up in the middle of the night surrounded by nothing but space. Cold, empty space.

  The city, stretching out beyond my window, was the same as ever. Only darker. I was sure there had to be a million stories out there, but nothing changed from where I stood.

  I considered creating a thunderstorm to make things more interesting, but I might get in trouble for that. We weren’t supposed to affect the weather, even when we could.

  Granted, I was the only witch I knew who was capable of controlling the elements, but it didn’t mean I got a free pass.

  Wasn’t that what Mariya always told me?

  I chuckled, shaking my head when I thought of her. As though I needed another nightmare to turn my attention to. But the only two people who’d ever dared tell me what to do were her and our mother, and I didn’t want to ruin an already bad mood by thinking about her. Not that Mother was all that bad anymore—ever since the kidnapping, she was clingier but less demanding. I could accept that.

  The sound of footsteps wouldn’t have been welcome at any other time.

  I liked my privacy, and I didn’t get a lot of it with Holden at my elbow all the time. Holden wasn’t even his real name—it was something ancient and Serbian, something practically unpronounceable to my New-York-born-and-bred tongue. He had invited me to call him Holden for short, only minutes after I woke him back in The Fold.

  What a difference from my old life with Elias.

  He frowned. “You’re having trouble sleeping again?”

  I nodded. “I guess I don’t need to ask you that question.”

  “It’s something I left behind a long time ago.” He looked out the window along with me, but left a healthy amount of space between us. “The same nightmare?”

  “The same.”

  I wished he didn’t know about it, but there wasn’t any going back from the night my screams sent him running to my room and kicking the door down, thinking someone was trying to kidnap me again.

  He had no intention of letting what happened with Elias happen with him. I didn’t have a choice but to tell him about my dreams and let him know that he might hear screaming like that in the future—and he had ordered me to stop locking my door when I went to bed, so he wouldn’t have to kick it down again.

  “Time will make it better.”

  “That’s what you always say,” I murmured, turning my head to look at him. “But it’s been months.”

  He frowned.

  I shrugged. “Yes. I’ve been keeping track. And nothing. No change. The same nightmare, the same flashbacks. I can even smell those dead animals, all of them. It’s like being there all over again. He might as well come and take me every night.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “I know that.” I tapped the side of my head. “I know it here. While I’m awake. Once I close my eyes, it’s a different story. I can’t control it.”

  “Have you considered…”

  I held up my hand. “Please. Don’t.”

  “Humans do it all the time.”

  “What else does my mother have to say about this?” I folded my arms, glaring up at him.

  In the old days, if Elias had even dared try to tell me what to do, I would’ve sliced him open with my tongue and liked it. I used to love telling him o
ff, especially when I knew there wasn’t anything he could do to stop me.

  “What makes you think I was speaking to your mother?” His dark eyes were nearly unreadable, but I didn’t need to read them. I could sense his uncertainty and guilt.

  “There’s no reason why you should know how humans handle things like that,” I reminded him.

  I couldn’t help smiling, even though it would only encourage him to go behind my back again.

  “Listen. I know you want to help, and it bothers you to see me like this, but I’m not telling my problems to a human doctor. I don’t want one of them trying to get into my head. What happens if they ask what I do for a living? Or even how old I am? What if they do blood-work on me and find something out of the ordinary?”

  “Of course. You’re absolutely correct. Although I wonder why a mental health doctor would need to draw blood.”

  “Quit while you’re ahead,” I muttered as I turned away.

  He snorted gently but went back to his room. I could relax a little when I was alone again.

  It had helped to talk with him, even if he couldn’t give me any real advice. Having a conversation with a real, mostly-live person shook away the last shadows of the nightmare. For the time being.

  I leaned against the window and wondered if I’d ever get a decent night’s sleep again.

  She tilted her head from side to side as she looked me over. “You’re still not sleeping. You look terrible.”

  “Thank you, Mother.” I shrugged into my robes with Holden’s help.

  He was more solicitous than Elias.

  I wondered if I would ever stop comparing them in my head. Maybe time would change that, too, just like it would eventually sweep away my nightmares.

  “Did you speak to her about what we discussed?” she asked Holden.

  I shot him a look to keep him quiet and glared at her.

  “Yes. He did. And it’s a ridiculous idea. You know we can’t open ourselves up to prying doctors. We don’t go to them for help.”

  “Except in case of an emergency.” She stroked my black hair with her heavily-ringed hand.

  I rolled my eyes, but didn’t pull away, which I considered to be progress. “I don’t think this constitutes an emergency. An emergency would be getting split from sternum to groin and my guts spilling out. That’s an emergency.”

  “Please. Don’t be disgusting, Vanessa.” She shuddered before raising her hood. “And don’t make the mistake of thinking this conversation is over.”

  “Why would I do that?” I whispered as she floated away with her robes trailing behind her.

  She was difficult enough to get through to before Mariya left, but in the months since she lost a daughter, Mother had doubled down when it came to protectiveness.

  There was one area in which she had backed off, at least. She had learned how to attend a coven meeting without butting in and acting like she was still High Sorceress.

  I remembered the days when she’d walk down the stairs with me, like she was the Regent or something. Guiding me until I was wise enough or strong enough to lead the coven. Undermining me. She had dropped that habit not long after I returned home and convinced her I was still in one piece, mentally.

  The tricky part had been pretending Mariya and Elias were dead.

  I walked down the stairs to the mansion’s lower level and greeted the rest of the coven.

  It wasn’t my imagination: they all treated me with more deference than they used to. And that was saying something, because they had always stood down before me.

  I was the High Sorceress. My word was law.

  It didn’t hurt that they were all slightly terrified of me because I was so volatile in those days. I wasn’t proud of some of the stunts I had pulled.

  Like deciding I would never step down as High Sorceress.

  I picked up my candle and walked out to the garden.

  I could hear the footsteps of my coven sisters behind me. We were all as solemn as the event called for, with the ripe, full moon shining down on us. I stood at the center of the circle they formed around me and looked up at that moon.

  The words were second nature, the call-and-call-back ritual between me and my sisters. A ritual which had been passed down for centuries.

  I didn’t have to think about what I chanted, which left me able to focus on the moon and the goddesses we worshipped and called upon for guidance.

  I needed guidance at this moment. I needed it desperately.

  Please, help me. If you’re up there and you can hear me, grant me assistance. I don’t know how much longer I can go on this way. Please, send me a way to heal from what happened to me. I’ve never felt like I could share with anyone before. I could never let anybody see what was inside me. So, it’s hard for me to ask for help now. But I can ask you. I know I haven’t always served you as I should. I know I took advantage of the powers you gifted me. Please, accept my apologies and hear me now.

  The chanting fell silent, and I realized it was because the ritual was over.

  The full moon was still above me, and my coven sisters still stood around me in a candlelit circle.

  “Vanessa…?” Mom whispered.

  I could see wide, worried eyes under the other hoods.

  I walked back inside and conducted the rest of the meeting in a sleep-deprived haze.

  It was happening again. I was cold and half-naked and dirty, scared nearly to death. Wondering what sort of torture that damned, demented sorcerer Kristoff would put me through.

  What did the ritual entail?

  He wouldn’t tell me. It was more fun for me to guess. Just another level of torture, letting me imagine the terrible things he’d do once it was time to get the party started. His words.

  Cold, emotionless eyes stared into mine, and no matter how I fought to close them I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop him from digging into my thoughts, my secrets.

  He laughed about them, taunted me, teased and shamed and humiliated me.

  I turned my head from side to side as his laughter drove into me like nails. A new nail for every icy peal from his foul, disgusting mouth.

  I spat at him and cursed him, but that was at first. When I had the energy. When he hadn’t broken me down until all that was left for me to do was hang my head and wait for the inevitable.

  I could hear his laughter echoing through the big, empty ballroom and bile threatened to project from my mouth as my skin crawled. When would it end? What had I done to deserve the torture, the shame?

  When the doors crashed open, my head shot up out of sheer reflex.

  Somebody had come for me. Yes, a tall, shadowy figure standing in the doorway, watching from across the room. But not for long. He flew to my side, throwing bolts of red and blue and white flame in all direction as Kristoff’s men tried to stop him.

  There was no stopping him. He was too strong, powerful, brave.

  Determined.

  When he released the ropes tying me to the wooden posts, I collapsed in his arms. He cradled me against him as he ran from the room, through the lobby which smelled so much like death, outside into the fresh air. Only then did look down on me.

  The light was so bright, and I’d been in darkness for so long, that my eyes didn’t have time to adjust.

  I couldn’t see his face. Only his eyes. Bright, flashing, jade green eyes under thick, dark brows. Passionate. Kind. Eyes I had never seen before.

  I woke with a start, looking around my silent bedroom like it wasn’t the same room I’d slept in for years.

  Dreams could be like that, so deep and real they could make a person forget they were a dream at all.

  I shook off the cobwebs and rolled onto my side, facing the clock.

  Five thirty. And for the first time in months, I wasn’t afraid to go back to sleep.

  Who was he? I wondered as I drifted back off.

  2

  Gentry

  Who was she?

  I woke with a start and sat up in bed, looking
around. Frantic. My heart beat rapidly. There was a roar in my ears as blood raced through them. Who was she? And where?

  I looked at my shaking hands and could’ve sworn I could still feel her. Her cold skin, the nightgown she wore. Satin, maybe. Her weight in my arms—not much, she was thin, but even so. She was there, a physical presence. Wasn’t she?

  The otherwise empty motel room told another story.

  I blinked hard as I ran my hands through my hair and talked myself down from near-panic.

  All right, it was a dream. Just a dream. Dreams happen all the time. They weren’t real. But this one felt so damned real—I could smell death and salt air. I hadn’t even been to the beach in years. Decades. Not much time for fun.

  Five thirty. Not hatefully early, though earlier than I wanted to get up. But if I went back to sleep, I’d never want to get up in an hour. And I had more miles to cover before I reached the city.

  Sitting in rush hour traffic before I even got started was not the way I wanted to spend the last leg of my road trip.

  The motel mattress was hard, unforgiving, and my back screamed in protest as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up before gravity and sleepiness pulled me back down. Even an uncomfortable mattress was better than getting out of bed in the dark. Alone. In a shitty motel room in the middle of nowhere.

  A hot shower helped work out some of the tightness in my back and shoulders. I leaned on my forearms against the shower wall—it was clean, at least, to the point where the smell of cleanser made my nose wrinkle in distaste—and let the water run down for a long time.