Quieting the Tempest

ALEXANDER

^OFF THE COAST OF PERTH, 1923^

She was curled up on the bed, engrossed in the books I’d given her. I hoped they would distract her from the gnawing hunger. They did, but only to a certain extent.

I noticed her fingers twitching, her gaze darting toward the door each time a human passed by. She was biting her lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. She was oblivious to how challenging she was making things for me.

Her focus was solely on reading and resisting the urge to pounce on the humans laughing boisterously outside. My focus was solely on resisting the urge to pounce on her.

I had taken her on a journey across Africa, introducing her to my world, guiding her as best as I could. But her eyes still held a profound sadness—a grief so intense that it made me cautious, made me hesitant to get too close to her.

Yet, I yearned for it. I found it hard to look away from her. I knew she was unaware of my gaze because I never felt it reflected in her emotions.

She felt awe, surprise, happiness, sadness, fear, and anger, but toward me, she only felt respect and pride. I couldn’t help but recall my grandfather’s ominous words. He had damned her life before she even survived the transformation.

He wouldn’t be far behind, or, if not him, he would have sent someone to tail us. I didn’t want Aya to know. She didn’t need to know that I had put her in even more danger than she had ever been in before.

She was a marked woman just because she was mine. I ran my fingers through my hair, frustrated with my own selfishness, with the knowledge that I wasn’t going to tell her, even when I knew I should. Then, I quietly slipped out of the room.

Just before the door closed behind me, I saw her look up, her doe eyes wide and curious. Innocent. She was still so innocent.

I walked down the ship’s hallway and out onto the deck. The sun was setting, painting the sky in deep shades of blue and orange. Humans were huddled around me, their voices a soft murmur beneath the sound of the waves.

I ignored their curious looks and the whispered speculations that I could hear with perfect clarity. I leaned against the railing, gazing at the vast ocean. The humans had strung up lights along the deck to create a romantic ambiance.

They whispered sweet nothings to each other, lost in their own delicate little worlds. My thoughts drifted back to Aya. She was strong. She was stubborn and sassy and could spend hours stargazing with me.

She resisted my control every day. We had played chess, poker, backgammon, and she was good at all of them. I had taken her to a few bars, and despite the challenge, she had enjoyed dancing. She really enjoyed it.

I looked toward the horizon. Humans couldn’t see it yet, but I could make out the faint outline of the Australian coast. We would be there in a few days.

I had plans to show her the vast landscapes of Australia. It was a large, nearly deserted place where she would have plenty of room to explore and hunt without the risk of killing humans. I hoped she would find some peace there.

But I had been naive to think she would stop missing her family so quickly. I knew she thought I was heartless. She would never see me the way I saw her. I had ruined any chance of that from the start.

I felt like punching something. Instead of beheading a human, I squeezed the iron railing—it bent easily under my grip. I wanted to rip it off and hurl it into the sea. My frustration was morphing into hunger.

The scent of human blood was too potent. I wanted to make it up to her. I wanted her to be mine. Truly mine.

Just then, I heard her soft footsteps, her scent filling the air. I turned and saw her stepping onto the deck. Instantly, the murderous edge inside me softened.

She was wearing loose, light brown pants and a white blouse, her dark hair pinned up without her scarf. She was dressed simply, but she was still the most beautiful woman on board.

The human men noticed her immediately. I could hear their hearts quicken, their eyes roving over her body, taking in her curves, her soft brown skin. Her deep, dark eyes locked with mine, and I could see—and feel—the fear that was consuming her.

She was parched. This voyage had been nothing short of a nightmare for her. The few creatures we’d managed to drain were barely enough, and being in such close proximity to humans was pushing her to her limits.

We were still a good day’s journey from the shore, but she was nearing her breaking point. I beckoned her over, and she quickly moved toward me, careful to keep her speed in check under the watchful gaze of the humans.

As she got close enough, I took her hand and pulled her toward me, positioning us both to face the endless horizon. I could feel every contour of her body against mine, and I could sense her emotions in a whirlwind of chaos.

She needed to find her calm. She had lost control before, and I was determined not to let that happen on this ship. I encircled my arms around her waist and rested my chin on the top of her head.

I could feel her start to relax, her hunger subsiding as she took a deep breath, the fresh, salty scent of the ocean replacing the irresistible smell of human blood.

“Focus on the waves, the salt,” I whispered into her ear. “Listen to the dolphins. Can you hear them?”

She took a deep breath and nodded. Her body relaxed further against mine.

“I can hear them communicating,” she murmured softly.

A smile spread across my face. I could faintly hear the distant chatter of a pod a few miles ahead, frolicking, singing.

“They’re playing,” I informed her.

She nodded once more, then closed her eyes and let her head rest against my chest. In that moment, my heart thumped. It seldom did—only when I was furious. Never when I was holding a woman in my arms.

I held her closer, delighting in the way she molded against me, the way she softened in my embrace, the way she surrendered to my comfort. It made me feel like the most fortunate man in the world.

She was the most precious thing I had ever held. And I was petrified of destroying her.