Dark Secrets (17 page)

Dante drew her away from me and I stood. The room was a
disaster of dented walls, broken glass, strewn clothes, splintered wood and
upended furniture. I strode to the walk-in closet and tried to ignore the
sensory memories sweeping through me.

Ella throwing her head back on a laugh as I chased her. The
silky feel of her skin under my touch. The pleasure filling her eyes when I
fucked her long and slow. The scent of her desire. The taste of her when she
climaxed against my mouth.

I focused on the tiny kernel of her soul calling out to me
from beyond. Was it Ella or was my mind playing tricks on me?

I dressed, pulling on clothes even as I bent in front of the
weapons chest that had belonged to generations of hunters in Ella’s family.
Blood dripped onto my jeans and I looked at the cuts on my knuckles and forearms.
Ignoring my wounds, I strapped on two guns, selected a couple of different knives—one
of Ella’s favorite Brimstone blades and two small Silverstone daggers. Once I
had my arsenal selected, I shoved my feet into boots and laced them up.

Castro and Eli blocked my path into the bedroom—I glared at
them.

“Move.”

“This isn’t smart,” Castro said and crossed his arms over
his chest.

Eli chimed in next. “Do we know she’s dead for sure? I found
some more information on the Blade of Souls. It’s not pretty, Micah. If Richard
found a way to get to Ella and he stabbed her, the weapon would remove her soul
but not kill her.”

Hope surged inside him. If she wasn’t dead, he could fix
her.

“This could be a trap to lure you to him,” Eli kept talking.
“He must know we broke into the hospital, that we have Mom.”

“Fuck what’s smart. I’m going.” I glared at both men. “Neither
one of you will stop me because deep down inside you know you screwed up by
caging me.”

“I’m coming with you,” Eli said.

I shook my head. “No. I can smell the liquor on your breath.
I don’t need you getting hurt because you’re drunk, and I don’t have time to
babysit you. Dealing with Julian once and for all is something I have to on my
own.”

I pushed between them and stalked through the ruin of the bedroom.
After tonight, I’d never step foot in here again.

“Listen to reason, Micah,” Castro said, the frustration in
his voice taking second fiddle to my need for retribution.

“If I listened to reason, I never would have let her go in
the first place. All for what? Pride? My word? Because I made some half-assed
promise while Ella lay on her deathbed two months ago? I shouldn’t have let her
go. I knew it. She knew it. I’m going to go get my girl back.”

Hannah shoved a piece of paper into my hand as I passed. I
looked down at her elegant script and clutched the only link to Ella I had
left. I curled my hand into a fist and the paper crinkled.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

I nodded and walked from the room. Unfolding the paper in my
fist, I concentrated on the directions instead of my surroundings. By the time
I’d stepped outside, into the gusting snow, I knew exactly where I needed to
go.

As the last wisps of my humanity were stolen from me, I
succumbed to the dark—a place of true freedom. Without the restriction of my
soul, I evolved into the creature I was always meant to be. I threw my head
back and screamed—a sound of both pure torment and sheer pleasure. An untapped
well of power and centuries-old knowledge filled the void where my spirit had
been—redefining who I was to the core. Ruthless. Cunning. Cruel.

I was Queen.

The agonizing pain vanished. In its place, a cold calmness
settled. Silence punctuated the absence of my heartbeat, of Julian’s. In that
same quiet, a faint echo of life called out to my senses, too faint to
comprehend. What was it?

My curiosity faded with my first indrawn breath. The
fragrance of rust and honey filled me so strongly I tasted the blood saturating
the air. My mouth watered. My fangs throbbed. The hunger I’d ignored for so
many years refused to be denied any longer.

I looked at the knife sticking out from my chest, ready to
pull the damn thing out and toss it to the ground. Something caught my
attention and I tilted my head to study it closer. At the end of the blade’s
hilt was a crystal I hadn’t paid much attention to. No longer clear, the gem
shimmered with some kind of a pansy-assed lavender substance that pulsed with
ceaseless movement.

The trapped essence was my soul—my weakness.
Never-fucking-again.

I lifted my gaze from the knife and found Julian staring at
me with a hungry gleam in his bright-blue eyes. I let a slow, seductive smile
curl my lips as I stepped to him. He wanted to fuck me. To possess me. To mold
me into something I’d never be—his pet.

“Ella,” he breathed.

My sire pushed his will against the boundaries of my mind
and I batted the attempted invasion away like an annoying gnat. Fucker was
trying to control me. I reacted on the feral instinct I’d pushed away for
years, no longer bound by the rules of humanity. I was finally free to do what
I wanted.

Morals were for those who cared.

My smile faded. Too quick for even Julian to realize, I
grabbed his wrist and jerked it back until his fingers touched his forearm.
Bones snapped like dry, brittle twigs. His deep groan of pain was as satisfying
as the shock dancing in his gaze. The tiny hurt wasn’t enough. He needed to pay
for everything he’d ever done to me.

“You pathetic asshole,” I hissed and drove my knee up,
directly into his balls.

I shoved forward with my will, chasing the path of his
emotions until I breached his mind and held his pitiable life in the palm of my
hand. His thoughts drifted through me in a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors,
words, pictures and emotions. I could feel them—touch them. I could twist them
at my whim.

Julian thought to control me. Soul or no soul, he felt he
owned me. The deeper I went, the hotter my rage burned. He’d plotted with
Richard, my known enemy—his need to make me his once more knowing no bounds.

Richard’s rat-like eyes and up-tilted stubborn chin filled
my vision and I homed in on the exact moment their bond had been forged. Suit
pressed, blond hair combed over to the side—Richard in a booth that obscured
his features. Sensual pulses of music filled the air and I drew in the scents
of smoke, the chatter of conversation. In the background, a lithe redhead
gyrated against a pole. Her tits glistened as if she’d been dipped in oil and
dusted with glitter.

Richard’s voice was clear, as if I was there and not
studying the memory. “You want Ella and I want Micah free from her. I’ve got a
solution that will benefit us both.”

Julian grinned and leaned forward to slide his palms across
the smooth table. He took the package Richard pushed in his direction with a
bubbling sense of excitement. “The mongrel needs to die.”

“No,” Richard barked. “I’ve got my uses for him. You’ve got
four weeks to complete your task.”

I pulled back from the conversation and the acrid taste on
the back of my tongue faded. My sire had no idea who I was or what I was
capable of. I yanked the knife from my chest. As I watched, my skin knitted
together, faster than ever. I stroked a bloody finger down Julian’s cheek,
under his jaw to lift his face to mine.

Beads of sweat peppered his forehead. He fought to push free
from my hold and the strain showed. Excitement soared through me.

“What have you done, lover?” I cooed.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I was rooted inside his
head and I stopped the words before they even formed.

“Save it,” I hissed.

I kicked his knee, shattering the cap. His leg gave out from
beneath him and he collapsed to the ground with a groan. I trapped his pain and
agony inside, forcing him to feel every facet of hurt. When I was finished with
him, he would know my wrath.

Julian struggled, tried to push me from his mind, but he was
weak and ruled by lovesick emotions. He had no idea what he’d done, who he’d
released. The bones in his wrist I’d broken knitted together and Julian pushed
off the floor with his hands in an attempt to stand, but his knee was still
damaged. For his efforts, spittle dripped from his parted lips and I buried my
foot in his gut, sending him sprawling.

His mind was a chaos of rioting emotions, sensations,
thoughts and memories. Through it one thing was clear, something he focused on
and couldn’t seem to push away. He heard an echo, a flurry of soft beats that
agonized him more than the physical pain he suffered.

Why?

I looked down at myself, to the source of the noise and
tried to pinpoint it. Dried blood crawled down my stomach… Realization swept
through me. Vampire Queen and the Demon Son. I’d procreated, ensuring my race’s
survival by siring the prophesied child that would bring about total
destruction. A slow, satisfied smile lifted my lips. I had the perfect,
malleable tool to ultimate power.

The doors to the study burst open and I looked up as the
Fenrirs’ packmaster rushed in, no doubt drawn by my screams. Incompetent ass. I’d
have been dead long ago if that was what Julian had intended.

He was two steps into the room when I lashed out with my
power, the gesture as easy, as natural as lifting my hand. The doors behind him
slammed closed and I took hold of the wolf inside him with little more than a
thought. I pictured wrapping my fingers around the animal’s neck, how the
silken fur would feel beneath my palm. Ever so slowly, I tightened my grip and
took satisfaction in his widening eyes.

Eiven, trapped under my spell, spluttered for breath. He
grabbed his throat, clawed at his skin as if searching for the reason he couldn’t
breathe.

“That’s right, wolf. You answer to me. Are we understood?”

His lids fluttered.

“Look at me!” I demanded.

Behind me, still struggling to get up off the ground, Julian
made an inarticulate noise that sounded a lot like, “Help me.”

Pussy.

I dropped Eiven to his knees, bending him to my will. I
ripped through his memories, pushing aside the writhing images of tangled
bodies, cries of passion and pure ecstasy of the bite. Long before Lizbeth had
come of age, Eiven had pledged his allegiance to the vampires in exchange for
power.

Vampire blood had both strengthened and weakened him. Seemed
Eiven had a bit of an addiction, not that I cared. Our minds clashed and he
struggled against my hold, a fight for dominance I knew I’d win. There was no
question. To the wolf’s credit, I felt not an ounce of fear—something we’d have
to fix.

Maybe I’d keep him.

His lips tinged blue, yet he stopped struggling for breath.
No. My wolf looked on and accepted his punishment like a man. Only after Eiven
bowed his head and stopped fighting did I release him. He gasped for air,
choosing to stay silent instead of asking the questions swirling inside his
head. Smart boy.

I turned to where my sire writhed on the ground and looked
at him with disgust. “Get on your knees.” As I spoke, I removed the knife
strapped to my thigh, tossed it to the ground and slid the Blade of Souls in
the sheath.

Julian jerked, fighting the compulsion and losing. On hands
and knees, he looked up at me with pure venom. I found his anger highly
amusing. I was master now, not him, and he knew it. Perspiration glistened on
his brow. Pain rippled out from his shattered kneecap—an injury I wouldn’t let
heal.

I licked my lips, enjoying his misery, deciding to inflict
more simply because I could. “Crawl.”

I strode past Eiven and exited the room, Julian creeping
behind me like a good pet.

The moment I reentered the ballroom, vampires milling around
stopped and stared. I plucked a crystal flute from a tray and brought the rim
to my lips. The rich scent of blood filled me and I tipped the glass back.
Thick, red liquid dripped down the back of my throat. I swallowed and picked
apart the facets.

Musky. Male. Demon. Just below the surface there was an
edge, a bite to the taste that spoke of pain and fear. Delicious. I licked my
lips, savoring the last traces.

I strode forward, flute dangling from my fingers, my wolf at
my back and my sire crawling behind us. I filled the room with my power and
touched each one of my creatures, anchoring them to me in the old ways. With a
single thought, I sent them to their knees, forcing down those who would oppose
me.

I stopped in the center of the crowd and spun in a pleased
circle, admiring my minions kneeling before me. Mine.

“There’s been a change of plans,” I announced, my voice
carrying throughout the room.

I recalled my energy. One by one, the vampires who could now
move again gazed up at me. Their eyes gleamed like sapphires, an eagerness for
domination that filled me with pleasure.

“Julian—your so-called ‘king’—was under the assumption that
I was weak, a sniveling,” I glanced to where Eiven stood beside me, watching
with interest, “child.”

He met my gaze head-on without flinching, something that
pleased me. I glanced at the pulsing vein in his neck, his racing pulse music
to my ears. Eiven’s eyes darkened and he licked his lips, his hunger a
seductive pull.

I looked away and called out, “Let me clear a few things up
for you.”

I pointed a finger at Julian and sent him sailing through
the air on a gust of undiluted energy. Vampires moved out of the way, clearing
a path so nothing obstructed my view. I pinned Julian to the wall, twisting my
hand to the right. The action forced his arms out and his legs apart. He
writhed against his imaginary restraints.

The air pulsed seconds before Julian’s armed guards popped
into the room. A growl ripped from my throat and I swept my hand out, snapping
their necks one by one. A dozen bodies dropped to the floor, the thuds of their
corpses second to the clanking of their fallen weapons.

“I am your queen,” I snarled through the burst of rage that
filled me.

I lashed out at Julian, forcing my wrath out the tips of my
fingers. The smooth, pale skin on his cheeks split apart as if I’d sliced his
flesh with razors. Blood welled, filling the room with the delicious aroma.

I channeled my bloodlust and pushed it out, letting my
vampires feel my thirst as if it were their own. Hunger shone in their eyes and
filled me with a need for violence. I lashed out again, ripping the fabric from
Julian’s body until he was naked and bound at my mercy.

I strode forward, my every step graceful and smooth. As I
went, I brought the champagne flute in my hand down, smashing it on the first
hard object I found—a vampire’s head. Glass shattered, tinkling to the floor. I
stopped in front of Julian and pressed the pointed shard of the broken stem at
the corner of his eye.

“You may speak,” I said softly and trailed the tip down his
cheek, creating a new river of blood.

“You cannot kill me,” he said, a surety in his voice that
pricked me the absolute wrong way.

I leaned forward and drew my tongue up the gash on the side
of his face. His blood was rich and potent and I moaned at the decadent
pleasure of it.

“You’re right,” I purred. I drew away from his face,
adjusted my grip on the broken flute and shoved the jagged stem into his eye.
Fluid and blood mixed to stream down his cheek. Through his screams of agony, I
whispered, “I can’t kill you, Sire, but, I can play with you a bit.

“Knife,” I demanded silently and held out my palm.

Within seconds, the weight of the weapon filled my grip and
I wrapped my fingers around the hilt. Tit for tat. I plunged the knife into
Julian’s chest with a wet thwack that had blood splattering my face. Julian
screamed. His hoarse, pained cry of weakness turned me on.

I pulled out the knife and thrust it into his stomach. In
and out, each stab proof I was in control. He’d penetrated me and I reveled in
returning the favor. When his flesh was nothing but ground-up meat, the last, lingering
thread tying us together forced me to stop.

Such a pity.

My sire’s blood coated my arms, chest and stomach, stained
my dress. I dropped the knife to the ground with a clang and took a step back
to admire my work. Bone showed through gaping flesh. Blood dripped to the
ground, adding to the ever-growing puddle. My senses homed in on the individual
drops and I tracked them as they fell. Splish. Splosh.

I stared at Julian’s pale, lifeless body as I spoke, hoping
there was some part of him that was still conscious. “Anyone else who dares
defy me will feel my wrath. I am your mistress. Your queen. You will do what I
tell you to do, no exceptions. There are rules in place, ones that Vlad—my
flesh and blood—dictated. We will survive. We will dominate. Lizbeth might have
been a sadist, but she was pathetic. Me,” I turned and smiled, making eye
contact with each vampire, “I’m a trained killer and I know exactly where to
strike first. Those who oppose me will die. Those who please me will flourish.”