Escaping Christian

8: Fire & Ice

God, what I'd give to know what he was thinking.

We walked steadily, side by side through town. Christian was on full alert as was I. Something was a bit odd and to be honest, I couldn't explain what it was. There was just something weighing in the air. Deciding to distract myself I decided to start a new line of questioning in my head. What else could I pry from his past? His feeding habits? His lack of friends again? Another decade? Or... "Can I ask you something?"

"And if I say no?"

"I'll ask anyway."

"Then go ahead."

"What was the year you turned?"

"1115."

"What year were you born?"

His steps slowed as he glanced at me. "1085."

"Would I be overstepping if I asked how you turned?"

"Yes, you would be."

"Is that a story we have to work up to, Chris?"

"Is this a story you're going to continue to wonder about even if I don't tell you?" He asked frowning at me.

"I'll wonder, but I won't pressure you to tell me anything. How about instead you tell me about how you grew up?"

"Fine." He sighed harshly. "My father was a Viking and we lived in a forest. My mother's name, Matilda; my father's, Vikar. We lived in a village and my family owned a farm that grew wheat. My mother was pregnant with me when they moved from France to England. Growing up wasn't easy with the slow progression of medicine and hygiene but somehow we all managed. I survived to thirty which wasn't really common unless you were born rich. My sister to twenty-eight and my brother to twenty-five. My mother however, she died during Fletcher's childbirth."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Chels it was a very long time ago it's okay. My father was very strict. He says do this, you do it. I was protective of my siblings. He was abusive, very harsh on us after mother died but what could I do? I was only five."

Placing a hand on his arm, I stopped him from continuing. "You know what, you don't have to tell me anymore I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"I don't mind."

"Don't lie to me." I squeezed. "Doesn't matter how old the wound is, it takes anyone to rip it back open."

A grateful looked passed over his eyes and I smiled. If I was about to pick into his life, I had to know his obvious limits and clearly that subject is a giant veto. All of a sudden, Christian's eyes narrowed and he grabbed me from the side, placed a hand over my mouth and pulled me into the shadows.

I frowned and then followed his gaze to three men walking in the middle of the road talking. From our positions we could hear every word they spoke except none of it was English or even Arabic. No, it was definitely Icelandic. Christian removed his hand from my mouth but lowered it to sit by my neck. Against my back, his heart beat a worried rhythm. He wasn't afraid, but it was clear to me that those men out there were three vampires, not humans.

He could probably rip them all apart if he wanted to. But glancing up at him as he did down at me I wondered if he wanted to. And if he didn't, was it because of how shocked I was the first time.

His jaw clenched as he glared ahead. A squeeze of reassurance around my shoulders didn't help me relax at all. These were three probably well trained vampires that could most likely hear our every breath and most probably our heartbeats. And with the way mine was erratically beating on a bongo, they probably already knew we were here.