Hungry for You

Alex glanced in the mirror as she washed her handsand paused as she saw her reflection. She looked utterly ridiculous with the foil over her head ... and it hadn't even worked. She ripped the silver cap off. Between that and her attempt to "spoon" him to death, it was a wonder Bricker hadn't killed himself laughing, she thought with disgust as she tossed the foil in the garbage. She was definitely a bad Buffy.

Sighing, Alex dried her hands and forced herself to return to the bedroom. She really would have liked to hide away in the small room forever, but it wouldn't accomplish much.

Marguerite was seated in one of two chairs at the opposite end of the room. She smiled when Alex appeared, and then patted the arm of the chair next to hers. "Come sit down."

Alex didn't move. "I'd really rather not".

"Oh, come now," she chided. "I don't bite."

Alex snorted. "You're a vampire."

"No, I'm not," Marguerite assured her solemnly. "I am an immortal."

She glanced at her uncertainly. "What is that?"

"You'll have to come over here to find out," she said firmly. "I do not wish to shout across the room."

Alex hesitated another moment before moving reluctantly to the chair. Squeezing herself into the far side of it, as far away from Marguerite as she could get, she eyed her warily and waited.

"First of all, you have nothing to fear," Marguerite assured her quietly. "No one here would hurt you. We do not, and in fact are not allowed to, feed on mortals. We consume bagged blood."

Alex felt some of the tension seeping from her, but then stiffened again and said, "Sam-"

"We were not hurting her," Marguerite assured her firmly. "You must have noticed how she was thrashing and convulsing on the bed. We were trying to keep her still to prevent her causing harm to herself." She tilted her head and added, "Surely you saw the love and concern on Mortimer's face? He would never allow harm to come to her."

Alex frowned. She had noticed, and it had confused her at the time. "What's wrong with her?"

Marguerite hesitated for a moment, and then said, "I think before I explain that, you need to understand who and what we are."

"I know what you are," Alex said stiffly. "You're vampires."

"We are not vampires," Marguerite said firmly. "We are immortals."

"You have fangs," Alex said dryly, and then frowned and added. "At least, Cale did."

"Immortals all have fangs," Marguerite said calmly.

"Right," Alex said with a scowl. "You all have fangs and consume blood to survive but you aren't vampires?"

Marguerite clucked her tongue impatiently. "Yes, I know there are similarities. The mythological vampires have fangs and feed off the living. However, they are also supposed to be the cursed, soulless reanimated dead. And I assure you I am neither cursed nor soulless. I am very definitely also not dead."

"Then what-?"

"I will explain. But you may find the explanation difficult to accept," she warned.

"More difficult than vampires really existing?" Alex asked dryly. "Go ahead. I think I can handle anything right now."

"I wish you would stop calling us that unpleasant word. It's really quite distressing," Marguerite said unhappily, but continued, "You've heard of Atlantis?"

Alex raised her eyebrows. "Yes. An ancient, mythical land that was supposedly more advanced than the rest of the world or something."

"Yes ... well it was not just myth. It was a country on the tip of a continent, surrounded by ocean on three sides and cut off from its neighbors by a mountain range that made travel difficult. It was isolated, and was far more advanced scientifically than the rest ofthe world, to the point where the scientists had begun to work with what are now called nanos. It seems one of these scientists thought they could be a medical aid and created nanos specifically programmed to repair injuries and combat illness in the human body.

"His idea was that these nanos could be shot directly into the bloodstream, which would carry them throughout the body and take them wherever they needed to go to accomplish this. For that reason, he designed them to use blood to propel themselves as well as regenerate themselves so that they could accomplish even the largest task like fighting off cancer in a body riddled with it."

Alex raised her eyebrows and asked with disbelief, "And when was this? "

"Well before the arrival of Christ, dear," Marguerite said solemnly.

"Okay, that's a bit wild," Alex acknowledged. "But what has that to do with vamp-immortals," she corrected herself at the last moment.

Marguerite smiled at her for making the effort. "Well, these nanos were supposed to dissolve and leave the body when finished with their work. However, there are countless illnesses and injuries a body may suffer, and programming individual groups of nanos for each such ailment would have been impossible, so he, or they really," she interrupted herself to say, "because while one man started the work, others finished it.

"But anyway, to avoid that problem, the nanos were simply programmed to repair any damage, fight any illness, and keep the host body at its peak condition. Unfortunately, the body always has something to repair. The sun, the environment, even the passage of time kills off cells and causes damage that the nanos see as something that must be repaired."

"They never dissolve and leave," Alex realized.

Marguerite nodded. "And they use blood to power and regenerate themselves as well as to make repairs. More blood than a mortal body can create."

"The need for blood," she murmured.

She nodded again. "In Atlantis, they combated the problem by giving transfusions to those who had been given the nanos before the flaws were discovered. However, when Atlantis fell-"

"How did Atlantis fall?" Alex asked curiously.

"I believe it was an earthquake. Whatever the case, Atlantis basically sank into the ocean."

"Like they say California will do someday," Alex murmured.

"Yes." Marguerite said, "And when that happened, pretty much the only survivors were those with nanos in them. They climbed over the mountains to rejoin the rest of the world and found themselves in a muchless-advanced society. There were no more doctors or transfusions."

Alex grimaced. "That must have been a bit of a shock."

Marguerite nodded. "It was apparently a very rough time for most of them. They still needed more blood than they could produce, but now had no way to get it. Some simply died, but in others, the nanos sort of forced them to evolve to adapt to this new habitat. Theysuddenly sprouted retractable fangs to get the blood they needed."

Eyes narrowing, Alex snapped, "I thought you said you didn't bite and couldn't feed on mortals."

"Yes, well, I should have said we don't bite anymore. But we cannot feed off mortals now that there is bagged blood, it's against our laws. An immortal who breaks that law can be executed."

"Can be? Or is?" Alex asked dryly.

"Exceptions are made in emergency cases when an immortal is in terrible need without bagged blood available," Marguerite explained. "But otherwise, if they are simply feeding off mortals because they want, they will be found rogue and put down."

Alex thought of Cale. He'd definitely been in terrible need ... and she'd taken the cooler of bagged blood away. If he couldn't get to it, and a passerby stopped, would he be forgiven for feeding off the person?

"He would be more likely to control the person and have him bring the cooler to him," Marguerite said quietly.

"I think he's too weak to do that; otherwise, he simply would have made me bring it back," Alex said, and frowned as she realized he really had been controlling her this last week as she'd feared.

"An immortal is never too weak to control a mortal," Marguerite assured her. "Cale did not control you because he couldn't. He can neither control nor read you, Alex. That's what makes you special."

"You can control me," she pointed out, not believing her.

"Yes, as can any immortal on this property who wishes to." Marguerite shrugged. "But that is because you are not a life mate to any of us. Cale's inability to either read or control you is what makes you a possible life mate for him."

"What is a life mate?" Alex asked at once.

Marguerite hesitated. "I think I will leave that to Cale to explain."

"Why?"

Marguerite shrugged. "It is his place. In truth, it would have been better for him to explain all of this to you, but I did not think you would be willing to listen to it from him."

Alex frowned with dissatisfaction and stared at the other woman for a moment, and then sighed, and said, "So the nanos gave you fangs and the ability to control and read minds to help you feed after the fall. What else-"

"Not me. I was only born in 1265 A.D.," Marguerite interrupted quietly. "And I was born mortal and later given the nanos."

Alex shrugged that away. "What else can you people do?"

"Do?" she asked uncertainly.

"Do you turn into bats and fly or-" Alex paused. The woman was laughing softly.

"No," Marguerite assured her with amusement. "While I think it would be lovely to be able to fly, I don't think I would care to be a bat." Shaking her head at the idea, she explained, "The nanos only increased the natural abilities all humans have. They were programmed to keep their hosts at their peak and needed blood to do it, so they made their hosts better able to achieve that. They made their hosts stronger, faster, and increased their sense of smell and vision. Immortals also gained incredible night vision so that they could hunt at night and avoid the damaging rays of the sun during daylight."

"They became night predators," Alex said slowly.

"Essentially, yes," Marguerite agreed, "although, it wasn't by choice. They had come from a cultured society and didn't suddenly become ravening animals. They hunted and fed, but most tried not to unduly harm the neighbors and friends they were forced to feed on."

"And the mind control and-?"

"More abilities the nanos brought about," Marguerite said with a shrug. "It makes it easier to hunt and live without the constant threat of discovery if the chosen donor does not fight or even recall being bitten. Understandably, people do not like to be prey."

"No, I suppose not," Alex said dryly, and then tilted her head and returned to an earlier point. "You said you were born mortal."

"Yes. I was turned as a teenager," Marguerite said quietly.

"There were no syringes or doctors capable of shooting you up with nanos in 1265," Alex pointed out.

"No there weren't. My sire turned me by biting his wrist open and pressing it to my mouth so that I would drink his blood and the nanos with it. It is how most mortals are turned even today."

Alex wrinkled her nose with disgust at the thought. "Why? I mean I understand you had to then, but nowadays there are syringes and there is no need for that kind of barbaric nonsense."

Marguerite smiled faintly. "But it has become tradition."

"A painful one," Alex inserted dryly.

"Yes, but then the turn itself is painful, and I think your sister would agree that the pain Mortimer suffered tonight was little enough compared to that she is now suffering in the turn. Besides, there is some suspicion that sharing the same nanos gives an added connection, although no one has proven it yet."

Alex simply stared at her, barely hearing the last part. Her mind had stopped at the "I think your sister would agree that the pain Mortimer suffered tonight was little enough compared to that she is now suffering in the turn" part. The words echoed inside her head as she recalled Sam's agonized shrieks and the way she'd thrashed on the bed. Lifting haunted eyes, to Marguerite, she asked shakily, "Sam isn't-?"

"Yes, dear. Sam is turning," Marguerite said solemnly.

Alex started to jerk to her feet, but just as quickly found herself sitting back down. Not under her own power.

Marguerite patted her hand gently. "Sam chose to turn, Alexandra. It was not forced on her. She loves Mortimer. They are true life mates and she wishes to share her life with him."

Alex stared at her blankly, her mind only comprehending that Sam was now a vampire too, or would be once the turn was finished.

"She will still be Sam," Marguerite assured her. "She will simply not grow ill, and not age. She will also probably fill out a bit."

Alex blinked. "Fill out?"

"Well, she is unhealthily thin," Marguerite pointed out. "I suspect some sort of thyroid malfunction."

"Mother was always dragging her to doctors about that, but they couldn't find anything wrong," Alex said faintly.

"There is much doctors do not yet know, but the nanos are programmed to get their hosts to peak condition and keep them there," she reminded her. "I do not think Sam has ever been at her peak. She will be soon."

Alex simply sat there, too stunned by the news that her sister would soon be a vampire to say or even really think anything for a moment, but then she asked, "When did she decide to turn?"

"What you really want to know is how long she knew about us and did not tell you," Marguerite said quietly.

Alex didn't comment but knew that was really what she wanted to know. She was feeling a bit betrayed at the moment. Sam should have told her.

"She could not if she wished to stay with Mortimer, and Sam would not have been allowed to retain the memory had she chosen not to stay with him," Marguerite said firmly, and then added, "And she has known since the cottage last summer but has only recently agreed to the turn."

When she fell silent, Alex glanced to her curiously to see a brief struggle taking place on the woman's face, and then Marguerite grimaced, and merely said, "However, you should not allow the fact that Sam is one now to influence your decision."

"What decision?" she asked with a start.

"As to whether you are willing to accept Cale as your life mate and turn as well."

She blanched at the suggestion. "Become a vampire?"

"No, an immortal," Marguerite said with exasperation. "And please do not spout that nonsense about their being the same thing. I know you no longer think that way now that I've explained matters."

Alex stilled.

"You are not afraid of me anymore, Alex. Nor are you afraid of Cale now that you understand the basis of what we are."

"Yes I am," Alex said quickly, but could hear the lack of conviction in her voice.

"No, dear, you aren't," Marguerite said firmly. "I can read your mind, and I know you aren't afraid of us anymore ... at least not physically afraid. The fear only returned at the suggestion of being Cale's life mate."

"So which is it? Am I afraid, or not?" Alex asked dryly, and really wanted to know what the woman thought. She was pretty confused at the moment herself and unsure what she was feeling. Marguerite was right, she had begun to relax and stop fearing them all as she understood things. But the moment Marguerite had mentioned being Cale's life mate, abject terror had rushed through her.

"I believe you are afraid, but only of Cale, and not that he would hurt you physically, but that he could emotionally." Marguerite said gently, "You've come to love him, dear. I can read and feel it in your memories and thoughts. You recognized from the first that he was special, that you could come to care for him. You used needing to keep a professional footing between you as an excuse to protect yourself but couldn't make yourself stay away as you felt you should and found excuses to see him every day. But you find it impossible to believe that he could love you," Marguerite said sadly. "For all that you are an attractive, intelligent, and successful woman ... for some reason you don't think you are worthy of love."

Alex swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and blinked her eyes rapidly as she felt them fill with tears. Marguerite's words had certainly struck a chord.

"I think perhaps you need to stop and ask yourself why," she said solemnly. "Who made you think you were not worthy of love? Who said that to you? "

Alex didn't have to think hard, her mind immediately raced back to culinary school and her first experience with adult love. A train wreck to be sure, she thought on a sigh. But surely that couldn't be affecting her still?

"I believe it compounded something that was already growing within you, an irrational fear I think, but that doesn't make it any less scary. You'll have to search farther back for it, and I'll leave you to do it. You have a lot of thinking to do. You need to know what made you the way you are today before you can move past it and accept all that Cale has to offer you. He does loveyou, Alexandra. I promise you that. And he can't read or control you. The two of you could share a wonderful life together if you can only accept that love. But you shall have to sort out and confront your past to do it."

Alex watched silently as the other woman stood and moved across the room, but stood abruptly herself when Marguerite opened the door to reveal Bricker carrying a limp Cale past. She hurried to the door but was brought up short at the sight of him. His injuries looked even worse in light than they had out on that dark road ... and she'd just left him there, she thought with shame. This was a man who had been nothing but considerate and loving to her, and she'd left him to fend for himself in the middle of nowhere in that condition.

"You thought him a monster," Marguerite said quietly. "It was unfortunate, but understandable under the circumstances. He will not hold it against you."

Alex started to move to follow Cale, but her feet stopped almost at once and turned her back into the room, carrying her to the chair she'd just left. Marguerite had taken control again.

"I will help Bricker with Cale. The best thing you can do for him right now is sort yourself out so that you can love him as he deserves," Marguerite said from the door, as Alex found herself sitting down. "I should warn you that you have to be certain of your decision when you make it. It is irreversible. Should you choose not to be Cale's life mate, all memories of him will be removed from your mind, and you will never see him again lest the sight of him makes those memories return."

The door closed on that note, and Alex found herself suddenly able to move again. She stood at once, but then simply sat back down. They would just take control of her and send her back. Besides, she had a great deal of thinking to do.