First Bitten (The Alexandra Jones Series #1)

I’ve lost everything. Everything. My humanity. My life. My best friend.

Every day is like a hangover, worse than the one before. I’ve been in this house for a week and that week has felt like a year. I sleep sporadically and the little sleep I do have is plagued by nightmares because all I think about, every single second, of every single day is of what I’ve lost … what I’ve become … that night … Carrie.

Her death is like a noose around my neck, tightening with each passing moment, sometimes spurred on by a memory, sometimes by a flashback.

I don’t know how to get out of this perpetual state of melancholy or if I even want to. Maybe my guilt and grief will eventually just come and consume me whole. Or maybe it won’t. Maybe this is just how it’s meant to be for me from now on. A lifetime of punishment for what I’ve done.

For every breath that Carrie has lost, I’m to feel each agonising minute of this misery as if it’s brand new.

I can’t bring myself to eat and I only drink blood because Nathan forces me to.

I hate it. And I hate him for making me do it.

If I at all cared about sustaining myself in any way, that would be the last on my list of ways of doing so. Well, actually, it wouldn’t be on my list at all.

‘But it’s the way it is, so you just have to get on with it,’ as the habitually cold and hard Nathan puts it.

He hates me. I know he does. He doesn’t say it but he doesn’t have to. I can feel his resentment for me emanating out of him like a bad odour. He barely looks at me and he always keeps his distance. I don’t blame him. I’m me and I hate me. I deserve to be hated.

Any form of communication Nathan and I did have disintegrated after our confrontation that first night in the barn.

The only time I see him is when he comes to bring me blood and there’s no interaction, no conversation. I think I’d die of shock if he came in and said, ‘Hi Alex, how are you doing?’ Actually, me dying of shock wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Maybe I should ask him to try it.

Our conversations, if you can call them that, are limited to single syllables.

Nathan: ‘Blood.’

Me: ‘No.’

Nathan: ‘Yes.’

…and rinse and repeat.

Mainly, I spend my time alone trapped here with my painful memories and dwelling thoughts, wondering just why it is the people I love most die.

I’m so lonely.

But then this room could be filled with a hundred people and I’d still be lonely because the people I want to cure this loneliness I will never see again.

Jack and Sol are nice people. They’re kind. They try hard with me, try to help me, try to be my friends. And in another life I would have loved to have called them friends. But not now.

Now I don’t want friends.

Sol on a few occasions over the first couple of days tried to coax me out of my room, which was fruitless. The only time I ever leave my room is to use the bathroom. He soon gave up and now just comes in here and sits with me after he finishes work on the farm. He chats animatedly, telling me about his day and any other topic he can think of. I don’t have anything to add to the conversations, so I just sit on my bed and listen politely, waiting for the moment when he leaves so I can fold in on myself.

I just want to go home. I want back that safe feeling that only home can give you. I want everything I had back, except for Eddie. Actually, I’d endure a lifetime of Eddie if it meant I could have everything back as it was.

I wish there were a time machine I could climb into that would take me out of this room and back to that moment before we stepped into the forest. I’d do it all so differently. I’d leave my phone where it lay in the forest. We’d never go in for it. And everything would be okay. Carrie would still be alive.

I stare blankly into my regret from my seat by the window. It’s pitch black outside. There isn’t a star in the sky. The moon isn’t visible for me to see. It’s almost if as the sky knows my misery and is in mourning with me.

The house is empty. Jack and Sol are on an overnight trip away. They left this afternoon, farm business I assume. I didn’t ask, they didn’t tell. So, for tonight it’s just me and Nathan. Whoopee.

Nathan’s not in the house at the moment. I heard him go out a few hours ago. He won’t be far away, though. Nathan may keep his distance but he always has a watchful eye on me.

A sigh escapes, drifting off into the darkness, followed by an unexpected tear. It trickles out from the corner of my eye, slides down my cheekbone and soaks into my hair. I bring my knees up to my chest, resting my bare feet on the edge of the wooden chair, and wrap my arms around my legs and hug them tightly to me.

Movement in the garden catches my eye and I hear the back door open and bang shut. Nathan’s home.

The next thing I know my bedroom door is opening and Nathan’s standing in the doorway, a huge shadow in the darkness. “I need your help.” He sounds stressed.

I put my feet down to the floor. “What’s wrong?”

“My horse, she’s in labour, she’s having problems delivering. I need your help.”

Horse? I didn’t know he had a horse.

“Sure, just let me put my shoes on.” I lift my weary body out of the chair. I go to the wardrobe, retrieve my trainers and slip my bare feet into them.

Nathan’s shifting from foot to foot in an agitated manner. Feeling pressured, I don’t bother to fasten the laces and instead just tuck them down the sides. “Okay,” I say, walking toward him. “Let’s go.”

I follow him out of my room, across the hall and down the stairs. He’s moving quickly. I pick up pace to keep up.

I really don’t know how I’m going to be able to help him and his pregnant horse, or why he even thinks I can. I’m generally useless at everything, and that’s when I care. Right now I don’t care about anything.

“Have you rung a vet?” I ask as we’re hurrying through the garden, me following in his wake.

He gives me a look over his shoulder, harsh enough to make me shrink back. “Yes.” His answer is brisk.

I let it slide. I really don’t have any fight left in me anymore.

“Two hours they said … two fucking hours. They’ll both be dead by then,” he mutters to himself.

As we cross the field, I pick up on the sound of a distressed horse crying out in obvious pain. Nathan starts to move quickly, hearing it too. I keep up with him easily, surprising myself. I’ve never been much of a runner – a few feet and I’m usually doubled over with a stitch. Must be another side effect of my new super-self.

I follow Nathan across the field toward the barn, past it and down the side. As I turn the corner, I find myself looking upon a small paddock and stables. I didn’t know these were here but then I didn’t even know Nathan had a horse. It shows how very little I do actually know about Nathan and the place I currently have to call home.

Nathan heads straight for the stables. He slides the bolt open on the stable door and opens it up just enough for him to fit through.

“Hey beautiful,” he coos. “You hanging in there, okay?”

I’m guessing he’s not talking to me.

It’s strange to hear him sound so caring. On the rare occasion he has been ‘nice’ to me, he’s still only ever spoken with a severity to his voice.

“You coming in?” he says tersely, holding the door a pinch open for me.

And there he is, the Nathan I’ve come to know.

I slide in through the small gap he’s left for me without a word. I don’t know how small he actually thinks I am. I have to suck in a couple of inches just to fit through.

He closes and bolts the stable door behind me. And then I come face to face with the most beautiful horse I’ve ever seen.

Not that I’ve seen many horses up close, but she is stunning. And I get his adoration for her. She’s huge. Her coat is dark brown and shiny, and she has this little white patch just nestled between her eyes. It looks like a star.

She also looks like she’s in pain. She’s pacing around the far end of the large stable, kicking hay around in her endeavour, her long tail swishing about.

Nathan goes straight over to her, talking to her soothingly, and she immediately responds to him, nuzzling him as he takes hold of her head collar and strokes her gently on her neck.

I find myself watching him curiously. I really can’t figure him out, at all. He seems so cold and distant, yet here he is showing love to another creature. Maybe because of what he is – a shifter – he has a natural affinity with animals.

“There’s going to be a lot of blood when she gives birth.” He turns, giving me a hard stare. “Do you think you’ll be able to control yourself?”

He might as well have just slapped me. I feel my face start to tingle and my throat thicken.

How is he able to upset me so easily? Considering I don’t care about him in the slightest, you think I’d be able to just brush him off.

Swallowing past the thickness, I say in the most even voice I can manage, “If you don’t trust me, then why ask for my help?”

He pushes his dirty blonde hair off his forehead, keeping his hard gaze fixed on me. “Because currently you are all I’ve got. You’re the only person around for a good mile and I can’t do this alone. I need someone to help keep her calm while I deliver this foal.”

He just called me a person. I haven’t felt much like a person for a really long time, and to hear him say it means more than I realised it would. It’s like salve on an open wound I didn’t even know existed, which probably sounds crazy, considering he’s just asked if I’ll be able to refrain from killing his horse.

I take a cleansing breath in. “I’m not a monster, Nathan. I didn’t ask to be made into one of these things.” I sweep a hand down myself. “And, yeah, we both know I need blood to survive but I’m still the same Alex inside. I’m still the same girl I was before this happened, and I know you didn’t know me back then, obviously, but I was a good person. I would never hurt anyone. I love animals. I couldn’t even kill a fly and I hate flies. But if that’s how you see me, if you think I’m capable of murdering something in cold blood, I should leave now.” I gesture to the stable door behind me.

He’s looking at me with in that way he often does. It’s like a mixture of confusion and complete and utter dislike.

I’m feeling a bit confused myself, to be honest. I actually sounded articulate then and that happens rarely, if ever.

I hold eye contact with him but he’s staying silent and I’m starting to falter. Taking his silence as he thinks I should leave, I turn away and reach over to unbolt the door.

“Okay … ” He heaves out a sigh.

I look back at him but keep my hand on the bolt. I’m not sure if I read his tone right, you can’t really tell with Nathan, so I ask, “Okay, you want me to leave or okay, you want me to stay and help?”

“Stay.” A frown creases his brow. It looks like it physically hurt him to say that.

I can’t help but feel a little sense of triumph.

“You can trust me,” I reinforce, moving back into the stable.

He stares at me for a moment longer than necessary. I start to feel nervy. I wrap my arms around myself.

The horse stamps her back leg, demanding Nathan’s attention. He strokes her face. “Come here.” He gestures to me.

Swallowing my nerves down, I loosen my arms and walk toward him. “Have you done this before?” I ask.

He glances down at me and I notice for the first time how dark the skin around his eyes is. He looks really tired. “Once,” he utters, “on a cow.”

“Oh.” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “So what do you need me to do?”

A yawn escapes him and he rubs his eyes. An image of me touching my hand to his face, pushing my fingers into his hair, suddenly flickers through my mind. I blink hard.

“Well, right now I need you to stay with her and keep her company,” he says, moving past me, heading out the door. “I’m just gonna go and get a few things I need to deliver the foal.”

Okay, so what the hell was that? Now I’m imagining touching Nathan. I can’t think of anything I would rather do less. I’m obviously losing the plot.

Clearing my mind, I turn to the horse and slowly reach my hand out to her. She eyes me suspiciously for a moment, then carefully moves her head toward my hand and starts to sniff it, inhaling my scent.

“This baby of yours causing you problems, huh?” I murmur, rubbing the side of her face.

She nudges my arm with her head, almost as if responding.

“Probably a boy, then,” I reply. “Men are always trouble.”

Nathan returns a few minutes later carrying a bucket filled with soapy water, a pile of towels and a blanket.

“What’s her name?” I ask, gesturing to the horse, realising I’d not already asked and he hadn’t told me.

“Honor,” Nathan answers while rolling the sleeves up on his blue sweatshirt. He starts to wash his hands and arms in the bucket of soapy water.

“Honor.” I stare into her huge black eyes. “A beautiful name, for a beautiful girl. How old is she?” I ask, casting another glance Nathan’s way.

“Five.”

“Have you had her from a foal?”

“No, I got her three years ago. She was a rescue horse.”

“Rescue horse?” I am surprised. I wouldn’t have pegged him for the type to voluntarily take on a rescue animal. I’m a rescue and he doesn’t much like me, but then I guess that says it all. He just doesn’t like me.

“Was she badly treat?” I ask concerned. I can’t bear the thought of people being cruel to animals.

“Hmm.” He lifts his dripping hands out of the water and grabs a towel.

I feel a flash of anger. How anyone could have hurt her, how anyone could hurt any other living creature, is completely beyond me. What gives someone the right to do whatever they want to others? I start to feel a tightness in my chest, bad memories threatening to invade. I take a deep breath in. “How did you come to get her?” I ask him.

“An old friend works for the RSPCA. She told me about Honor. I adopted her.”

An old friend, a girlfriend maybe. I feel a twinge inside my stomach.

It takes me a moment to find my voice. “Well, I’m glad your friend got her away from those horrible people and that you adopted her,” I say, ignoring whatever it is that’s going on with me tonight.

Nathan comes over to Honor and starts checking her swollen stomach with his hands. He looks up at me, his eyes wide and serious. “Time to get this foal out.”

Then everything moves really quickly.

I talk to Honor, trying to keep her calm, while Nathan attempts to deliver her baby. It’s hard and stressful, mainly for Nathan. I can tell he is really worried, even beneath his hard, calm exterior.

“Okay,” Nathan puffs breathlessly from the other end of Honor, “I’ve got my hands on it. Keep her as still as possible while I pull it out.”

I take a firm hold of Honor’s head collar with both my hands. Steadying myself, I press my feet into the floor. I look straight into her black glossy eyes. She looks terrified. “Don’t worry,” I whisper to her, “your baby will be fine. Nathan won’t let anything happen to it.”

Nathan starts to pull, Honor shunts me forward, and I nearly lose my footing. “Keep her still,” he yells at me.

I steady myself again and hold her face close to me. She’s breathing heavily into my arm, her hot breath scorching my skin. “Just stay still. A few more seconds girl, that’s all,” I whisper gently in her ear.

“Got it.” Nathan lets out a sound of relief.

I glance past Honor to see Nathan down on his knees. A foal is his arms. Ignoring the fact it’s covered in blood, and other questionable things, I watch, holding my breath, while Nathan rubs the foal over vigorously with a towel.

“Can I do anything?” I ask, worried.

He shakes his head, looking up at me through the mess of hair that’s fallen over his eyes. “No need. The foal’s fine.” A smile edges his face.

It’s my turn to let out a sound of relief. “See, I told you your baby would be fine,” I utter to Honor. Letting go of her, she turns and goes straight over to where Nathan sits with her new baby.

Nathan puts the foal down and gets to his feet, leaving them to it. “Well done, girl,” he says, patting Honor on her back as he walks past her.

I watch with fascination as the foal tries to get to grips with its gangly legs. That’s all it is, long legs and this cute, skinny little body.

It’s crazy to think there’s new life in this room and I have had a little helping hand in making it happen. For a moment I actually feel of use, like I have a purpose again.

I don’t know what to do with the feeling. Shoving it away, I go over to Nathan who’s crouched down, washing his gunged-up hands and arms in the bucket. His clothes are covered in blood and gore. Then I realise I never felt the urge to feed at all, I never even gave it a second thought. Maybe it was the stress and intensity of the moment keeping my mind occupied and away from the blood. Well, whatever it was, I’m thankful for it and I feel a momentary sense of victory over the monster inside me.

“So what we got, a boy or a girl?” I tip my head in the foal’s direction.

“A girl.” He picks up a towel and dries his hands on it. “You wanna name her?”

I look at him wide-eyed. His eyes hold mine with a surprising amount of depth to them. “You want me to name her?” I edge out just to make sure I haven’t heard him wrong.

“Wouldn’t say so if I didn’t mean it,” he drawls, getting to his feet. He picks up the dirty towels and bucket of water, and walks out the stable without another word.

Was Nathan actually just being nice to me then? I lean up against the wall and look over at Honor, getting distracted by the foal as it tries to get to grips with feeding. It’s endearing to watch.

The foal is really cute. I know all foals are cute but this one has to the cutest one ever. It’s got chestnut fuzzy hair and a white mane. She’s the complete contrast to Honor’s dark colour, all bright and colourful.

“How they doing?” Nathan asks, coming back in the stable.

“Fine. The foal’s having her first meal.”

Nathan leans up against the wall next to me and folds his arms across his chest. He lets out a long, noticeable breath.

I turn my head to look at him. “You look tired,” I observe.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, letting his eyes close for a long blink.

“Why don’t you go to bed? I can stay here with them both,” I offer.

“Nah, no need.”

He still doesn’t trust me to leave me alone with them. I thought I’d already proved I have no intention of hurting them. I feel my hackles rise. “I’m not going to hurt them if you leave me alone with them,” I bite, a clear edge to my voice.

He glances sideways at me, giving me a hard stare. “I know you won’t.” His tone is equally as acerbic as mine. “They’ll be fine on their own. The foal is feeding so I’m happy. We can both go get some sleep.”

“Oh,” I say, the wind blown out of my angry sails.

Nathan pushes off the wall and goes over to Honor. “Proud of you, girl.” He takes her face in his hands, patting her affectionately, then he walks past me and opens the stable door, waiting for me to go through first.

“Bye, Honor. Bye, Honor’s baby,” I murmur before leaving.

Nathan bolts the door, locking them safely in for the night. The air has got significantly chillier while we’ve been in the stable. I rub my bare arms with my hands, trying to generate warmth.

“You cold?” Nathan asks.

“A bit.”

“I’d offer you my top, but … ” he gestures down at his blood stained sweatshirt.

“One for the bin?”

He nods, laughing lightly. We continue to walk side by side in silence.

“So, have you picked a name for the foal yet?” Nathan inquires, breaking the silence.

I have actually.

“Hope,” I say, giving him a quick glance.

“Hope.” He nods. “Yeah, I like it.” I feel secretly pleased that I’ve actually got something right. “Oh, and thanks, Alex,” he adds in a casual tone, “for your help. I know how hard it must have been for you but you did real good, and I couldn’t have done it without you.” He looks at me and smiles. A genuine smile. It lights up his whole face, even in this darkness.

And without realising, I smile back. It blindsides me. I’m so shocked at the sensation that I touch a finger to my lips to see if it’s real. And for these few seconds all my pain and self-hatred just drift away.

But I quickly remind myself, reprimand myself. Happiness is not something I deserve.

“No problem,” I mutter dismissively, letting the self-hatred flood back in.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I look up at the sky. There’s a star out which has managed to break through the darkness, lighting up its small part of the sky. One single solitary star. And for a moment, I wonder if the world is actually trying to tell me something.