Fallen Tears: A Blood Crave Novella (Blood Crave Series) Read online

  Fallen Tears

  A Blood Crave Novella

  (#1.5)

  Christina Channelle

  ***

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright © 2013 by Christina Channelle. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form (including by electronic or mechanical means) or stored in a database or retrieval system without written consent from the author. Please respect the work of the author and not engage in piracy.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious setting.

  ***

  Cover image provided by coka

  To my family and friends: thanks for all the encouragement.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  12 years ago

  He looks like a demon warrior.

  That was the first thought that crossed twelve-year-old Rowan Miller’s mind as her eyes caught sight of the dark, foreboding figure standing before her.

  Eyes closed, she had been lying on the cold, wet grass. Water slowly seeped through her already chilled body while her dark, curly locks surrounded her head like a halo. Her hands felt like blocks of ice as she squeezed them into fists, then switched to rubbing her fingers together. She hoped she could get them warm—if only a little bit. The night had been cruel, both rain and the harshness of the wind taunting Rowan where she lay, as if mirroring the two feelings consuming her.

  Anger.

  Sadness.

  She tried conjuring up more blissful memories from her past. The feeling of hot sand between her toes as she raised her head to the intensely bright sun; the sound of sweet laughter erupting from her friends as she attempted to mimic their English teacher’s penguin-like gait; the overwhelming taste of hot fudge sundae after a long bike ride on a warm summer day.

  The look of adoration on her father’s face as he applauded vigorously during her dance recital.

  These memories briefly pierced her mind but it was difficult to forget her reality. These thoughts provided only a weak mirage to where she really was.

  As it happened, she was alone in the dark, seeking shelter underneath a bridge from the harsh weather.

  Rowan wrapped her arms tightly around herself, trying her best to forget the fact that she was chilled to the bone. The whirling sound of the wind continued on as the rain pounded all around her.

  She tried forgetting the fact that she couldn’t keep her teeth from chattering, or that her body wouldn’t stop shaking. The fact that her stomach was in so much pain—empty because her last meal had been twenty-four hours prior. It had been half of a sandwich left behind on a restaurant table by someone. They had gotten up to go to the washroom when she quickly snatched the food.

  As the rain persisted, Rowan tried to forget that she was all alone in this world.

  That was what she had been thinking when she suddenly felt she was no longer alone. It was a new kind of presence, bringing an even deeper chill to the already cold air.

  Rowan instantly stilled where she rested, her body on high alert. The streets had been unkind to her and she quickly learned it was necessary to be cautious at all times.

  For the past three months, she’d been on her own, struggling to manage life on the streets since her father passed. It wasn’t easy, especially at such a young age, but she had quickly grown up in that time. Running away from a system that she truly detested, she’d fled to this unknown city, hoping it would be better than the emotional abuse she received at the numerous foster homes where she had stayed.

  Anything was better than that.

  Bringing her mind back to the present, her eyes opened to reveal a man standing by her feet. Although the night was dark, she instantly locked gazes with his equally dark eyes as he stared down at her in complete and utter silence. A lingering stillness overtook the two as they continued to stare at one another, Rowan’s eyes slowly widening with fright.

  Her body silently shook, racing with thoughts of how to escape. But as she tried to get up her body wouldn’t—or rather couldn’t—move. It was as if his eyes had somehow cast a spell on her and she was literally frozen to the spot. Her mind struggled against her immobile body with no success. It carried on like that, this stillness, until he finally spoke.

  “I too, am alone in this world.”

  It was then that she realized she hadn’t been breathing since she first laid eyes on him. Rowan exhaled sharply and took a shaky breath in. Slowly letting her breath out once more, she tried calming her beating heart as she listened to the sound of his smooth, almost lyrical voice. His voice was soothing and seemed to instantly wake her up from the trance she was briefly in.

  Still lying on her back, she gingerly shook her head from side to side against the damp grass.

  What just happened?

  Her body now unlocked, she immediately sat up. Quickly moving her feet beneath her, old sneakers dug harsh holes into the ground. Crouching low, she knew she had to get away from him, shuffling her feet backwards. She didn’t take her eyes away from him as she slowly retreated.

  Her spine abruptly butted up against cold concrete, the inner wall of the bridge. She realized she had nowhere else to go as her eyes darted frantically in every direction.

  It was at that moment of defeat that she finally registered the words he’d said.

  I too, am alone in this world.

  Her body all at once started to tremble. Her heart pounding strong against her ribcage, a sense of discomfort brewed deep within her chest.

  She no longer felt the cold.

  “There’s no reason to be alarmed.” He stood there casually as if they were just talking about the weather.

  She finally managed to find her voice. “Are you reading my mind?” Brown eyes wide, she screeched the words, staring incredulously up at him. As she spoke, he stepped closer. Rowan was now able to get a clearer view of him in the dark.

  He was frightening—almost ambiguous looking—as Rowan had never seen anyone quite like him. But he was also pleasing to the eyes, his face, as if carved from stone. Almost too perfect. She blushed slightly as her eyes took in each individual feature: his strong nose, high cheekbones, and perfect lips. He looked to be somewhere in his twenties. Long midnight hair went just past his broad shoulders, yet seemed to envelope him like a cloak. Looking into his eyes, she noticed they were dark—as hard and black as ebony. They were accentuated by thick black eyebrows against his pale, pale skin. He wore black pants with just a simple dark vest, his skin almost glowing in comparison, and a contrast to Rowan’s own tawny-toned complexion. She wondered why he wasn’t wearing a jacket. It was as though he were immune to the cold.

  Rowan shook her head as she scolded herself for admiring his looks when he actually scared the crap out of her. Although striking, he still gave her the heebie-jeebies.

  “Would it frighten you if I told you I was?” He spoke slowly, as if relishing the sound of his own voice. It had a slight dialect she was unsure of. She was shocked he had actually answered her question.

  “Yes.” Rowan quickly covered her mouth with her hands but the word came out before she knew it. Blinking a couple of times up at him, eyes wide, she waited for what was to come.

  “That’s good,” he said, nodding as if approving of her response. “Fear is a good thing—a natural human instinct. It’s something I’ve never felt before.” He mumbled the last part, almost as if talking to himself.

  “Why?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking, her curiosity apparent.

  He raised his eyebrows in surprise at the innocent question. She herself couldn’t understand why she was still trying to carry on a conversation. However, as her heart continued to pound and she breathed rapidly, she still waited for his answer.

  He was silent for a moment. Pondering on the thought, his finger tapped rhythmically against his chin. All Rowan heard around her was the heavy rain that seemed to close them off from the rest of the world as she continued to look at him.

  It was moments later when he finally spoke again. “Because my creator made me like this.”

  Your creator?

  “You’re strange.” She frowned at his response, giving her head an absentminded scratch. What an odd thing to say. Maybe he was just a crazy person? She had encountered a lot of those in the past few months and the best thing she knew was to feed into their beliefs. It wasn’t any good to get them angry. But that really didn’t answer how this guy knew what she had been thinking. Perhaps an excellent guess? As she thought about this, her original fear was surprisingly diminishing, her heart returning to a somewhat steady beat.

  She thought she was a good judge of character and felt this guy really didn’t want to harm her. Despite her initial response toward him being one of panic, and the desperate need to flee, she really did want to hear more of what he had to say. His reply to her question made her curious and she wondered what kind of delusion h
e was living in. She remembered reading something about that when she had been in school and wondered if he was—what was that word again? She blinked a couple of times as she thought to remember, lips frowning in frustration.

  Schizophrenic?

  Rowan slowly raised herself from the crouched position she was in. She tentatively slid her fingers up the wall behind her as her stubby nails scraped against concrete. Standing up, she watched him from a few feet away. He remained unmoving so she shuffled closer toward him, gauging her steps as she approached. She never took eyes off him.

  Her curiosity was really getting the best of her.

  “Here.” Startled from the abruptness of his voice, Rowan stepped back from him. Irritated with herself by her reaction, she took a deep breath and moved closer, only to realize he just held a jacket out to her. As she stood before him, he swiftly surrounded her with the warmth of his jacket.

  Shocked, she didn’t know how to react to that simple gesture. She stood unmoving, tears reluctantly forming at the corner of her eyes. She scrunched up her face, blinking, to prevent them from falling.

  This is different.

  Such kindness was something she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. It was strange for it to be happening with a complete stranger, of all people.

  Still staring at him, Rowan nodded her head in thanks although her chest felt heavy. That simple act reminded her of strong arms enveloping her whenever she got sad or scared.

  Daddy.

  “You’re in pain. I’m sorry for making you feel this way.” The man’s words were sincere above her head but as she looked up at his face, it was expressionless. Almost as if he didn’t know how to integrate the two things.

  “You’re really, really strange,” she observed, frowning up at him. Her eyes narrowed in confusion. There’s something … off about you, buddy. She had thought he just had a good read of people, but there was more to it than that. She definitely wanted—no, needed—to feed her suspicion and recalled his earlier comment.

  “So you can really read my mind?” She wondered how he would answer her this time.

  He nodded curtly, his long hair moving gently against his head. “Yes.”

  She still didn’t believe him and just blinked a few times up at him. Grinding her teeth together she decided on her next step. “Okay, then.” She quickly turned around, surprising him. She ignored the look on his face from her periphery, closing her eyes. She envisioned a black hole in her mind as she clutched the jacket still wrapped around her.

  “What am I thinking about at this exact moment?” She faced the wall as she waited for his answer. Maybe it was something in her eyes that gave her away.

  Maybe this time he wouldn’t guess right.

  “Nothing.” The word carried to Rowan’s ears and she smiled softly in satisfaction.

  Bingo.

  “Hah!” She spun back around, curls bouncing as she pointed a finger up at him. At the motion, his jacket fluttered to the ground. Rowan instantly felt cold once more. She ignored the fact, replying with a smirk, “You’re wrong.”

  She was having way too much fun with this.

  Raising an eyebrow, he glanced down, then swiftly bent forward to pick up the garment that had dropped to the ground. Brushing the water off with the back of his hand, he gently placed the jacket around her shoulders, again, replying, “You were thinking of a black hole which is, essentially, nothing.”

  Rowan paused and blinked a couple of times up at him before slowly lowering her finger, the smile leaving her face. He was right. She hastily stuck her arms through the jacket sleeves, the coat dwarfing her body. She brooded, narrowing her eyes in concentration. Looking back at him, she asked another question.

  “What’s my name?”

  There was absolutely no way he could guess that!

  “Rowan.”

  She stared back at him, momentarily stunned, her mouth opening to form the shape of an ‘O.’ He went on speaking as if he hadn’t noticed her reaction, giving his jaw an absentminded rub with the pads of his fingers.

  “It’s a rather unusual name. But I have to say that I like it.” He said this without a second thought, his face serious as he gave a little nod.

  Rowan swallowed loudly, still refusing to believe it. There was absolutely no way. She fired back another question. “How old am I?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Twelve years. Although you’re quite wise for your age, experiencing things most people wouldn’t experience in a lifetime.”

  “Where’s my family?” Her voice cracked at the question, unshed tears stinging her eyes. She wondered how far he would go in answering her, all his responses so far correct.

  How did he know?

  “You don’t have any,” he stated gravely. His voice lowered as his eyes flicked away to stare up into the sky. “At least, not in this world. Your mother died when you were just an infant, so you never got to know her. Your father died an alcoholic only recently. He was all you ever had.”

  Rowan couldn’t say anything at this point, for fear of tearing up again. She held back her feelings, refusing to feel the pain forming inside her heart as she tightly clutched her hands at her side, chin wobbling.

  She had to be strong.

  It was what she had to do in order to survive in this world.

  Blinking a couple of times, she wiped the side of her face before speaking again. “So you’re really psychic?” She didn’t think that psychics were real. From what she saw on the television, it was all a scam. At least, that was what her dad had always said.

  As she looked at him, she thought she saw a small smile form on his lips. But that instantly disappeared as he looked back at her with a shrug. “If that’s what you’d like to call it.”

  Rowan paused, again puzzled by his answer. “What else would you want to call it?”

  He didn’t move from his spot, just inches away from where she stood. He seemed frozen in place as he calmly closed his eyes and exhaled, speaking softly under his breath as he gestured with his hand. “I prefer to be called lamia.”

  Rowan stared up at him as she tilted her head to the side, eyebrows raised in confusion. Her twelve-year-old vocabulary was not at all impressive.

  “Huh?” She had never heard of the word before and thought she might have misheard.

  He looked directly at her and repeated the word, this time more slowly. “La-mi-a.”

  Lamia. Rowan tried to make the word register in her head but was interrupted as he spoke again, almost like an afterthought. “Although pop culture tends to label us as vampires.” He said this in a rather jaded way.

  “Vampires?” She couldn’t hide the shock from her voice, her eyebrows rising even higher, if that was at all possible.

  “Hmm. I see you know the latter.” He didn’t appear surprised by her reaction. “Society has labeled us incorrectly, saying that lamia is always female—we can be either male or female. And the whole eating little children is a little far-fetched. Blood alone is sufficient in keeping us well nourished. Anyway, vampires just became another name for us.”

  Rowan didn’t respond, just looked up at this guy in amazement. What he was saying couldn’t be true—there was absolutely no way. But for some reason, she believed every word that came out of his mouth. It was the strangest feeling, like when her dad used to tell her about Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.

  But regardless, she always believed every word he had said.

  “I guess if vampires existed, you’d fit the part perfectly,” she mumbled under her breath. She eyed him warily from his shoulder-length black hair to his pale complexion, which almost seemed to glow in the dark. He totally looked like the dark, brooding vampire type.

  “I beg your pardon?” He stared at her blankly as if confused by what she had just said.

  Rowan ignored his question, pressing even further. “If you’re a vampire then are you going to drink my blood?” She spoke calmly, as if she weren’t afraid of the prospect of death, although her eyes were wide in apprehension.