Three years of subsisting off of energy alone had not been pleasant. If she couldn’t be with Michael, she wished she didn’t have to be around humans at all. As it was, she spent a fair amount of time in cities and villages. She hadn’t had an encounter with a vampire since Michael’s death. Perhaps Zenas had forgotten about her. Even if he had, though, she knew Lawrence hadn’t. He never would.
It would be so much easier to get the energy she needed if she had sex with someone. It would be so much more satisfying. Unfortunately, the thought of engaging with someone that way made her skin crawl. Michael had done a right good job of making her his. She was ruined. If he didn’t accept her this time, she knew she wouldn’t be able to revert back to her old ways. Something inside her had fundamentally changed. Her desires remained the same, but somehow she had tamed them to a greater will. Michael had destroyed her.
***
The streets of Istanbul bustled, but Amaia hardly noticed. She effortlessly siphoned energy from the mortals around her. They were faceless sources of sustenance. It was one more city in which to pass the time, far enough from Michael to keep any other vampires from finding him through her and close enough that she could be to him in less than a day if something should happen to his aura.
A familiar peace pulled her up short. A distinct change in energy. Familiar.
“Cho?” Amaia looked around for the source of the energy. It was silly to call out his name. Even if it was him, he would be called something else. “Cho?” Amaia spoke a little louder. Futility be damned.
A man ahead of her to the left turned his head. His skin was a darker shade of tan than Cho’s had been. His hair was longer and fell in loose waves.
“Cho?” Amaia approached him, pushing her way through the crowd.
The man met her gaze. His chocolate eyes swirled with warmth and love. The sunbaked skin around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. He bowed his head slowly, deliberately, and then turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Amaia could follow him, but it would be no use. She had what she needed. His acknowledgement, his peace, gave her hope. She didn’t know if he remembered her as Michael did, but he was the same man, full of compassion and understanding. He had sated her more than anyone else, even though she hadn’t taken any of his energy. For the first time in more than a decade, she felt a smile tugging at her lips.
***
The temptation to see him was great. Every fiber of her being reached out to him, but she had made a promise. Besides, she didn’t think she wanted to watch him if it turned out he didn’t want her. It would be too painful to know what he looked like in this life, to know what she couldn’t have. So even though Michael was in Italy, Amaia had made her way to France.
There wasn’t much time left anyway. Just a few more months. She could last until then. Except she didn’t know what to do to calm her nerves. Every day, they grew more strained. She could barely keep still. More than twenty years she’d waited. How would she ever make it through these last few months?
If there was ever a time she needed a friend, it was now. She yearned for Meg’s companionship and advice. She would be easy enough to find if Amaia searched. Meg’s energy was as familiar to her as her own. Over the years on her own, she had honed her ability to sense and track auras even further.
There had been multiple instances when Amaia had come close to Meg’s aura only to change course. It wasn’t wise to seek her out. What kind of friend could Amaia be to her? Her presence would only place Meg in danger. Amaia was wanted, a fugitive. If she went to Meg, she knew her friend would want to follow her, to help her. Amaia couldn’t allow it. Liam wouldn’t like it. She wouldn’t put her best friend in such an awkward position.
However, she could write to Meg. At least it would be something to do, a way to release her nervous energy for a little while.
Amaia went to a little shop in the nearest village. A bell tinkled over the door of the cozy general store as she entered. The tall, bald, bespectacled man behind the counter wore a jovial expression. He had a generous, abundant energy. He wouldn’t notice if Amaia took some of it.
“How may I help you, miss?”
“I wondered if you had some paper and a pen you could sell me.”
“Absolutely. How much paper would you be needing?”
“A few pages will suffice.”
“Very well.”
While the man gathered her items, she surveyed the shop. The merchandise was quite eclectic, a little bit of everything. There was even a small display of books. Amaia leafed through a few. “I might be interested in a book as well. Do you have any recommendations?”
“Well, that there Frankenstein has always been a favorite of mine.”
“I’ll take it then.”
“Excellent choice.”
Amaia met the shopkeeper at the counter with her book. She pulled out her purse and paid for her purchases with some money she had earned telling fortunes. It was the only honest way she knew to make a living aside from her old profession.
“Do you happen to know where a good boardinghouse might be?”
“Madame Martin’s just across the way is a safe bet. Clean and respectable.”
“Thank you. I shall inquire if they have any vacancies.”