A Vampire's Rise (35 page)

The count didn’t have my son.

I tried to pull away, but something held me at his neck, an invisible force. It wasn’t Delacroix, it was something supernatural that kept me drinking, and it came from within. No turning back. Secrets passed over, information unraveled, and all sinuous links disintegrated.

Crawling on my hands and knees, with his blood mixed with my saliva dripping from my gaping mouth, I scrambled away, eager to put distance between me and him.

Remnants of my essence were listlessly evanescing, and I was powerless to stop it.

* * * *

“Breathe, Daumia . . . breathe.” Marcus’ voice was distant. “Breathe . . .”

Lost somewhere within my deepest recesses, I had an out of body experience and a glorious feeling of empowerment, one with the sublime. Breath, so simple and yet so unnecessary.

“My name’s Orpheus.” A tingling all over that settled in my groin, the rush caused me to shudder, an experience unlike anything I’d ever known. My body pulsated and I quivered in response to the sensations, enshrined within these invisible pleasures.

Marcus’ breath felt warm on my ear. “I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered.

“Glad you could make it.” I rose up.

Marcus looked confused. “You kind of look . . .”

“What?”

“Different.”

Everything felt different. My movement seemed effortless, spectral even, and I took my time to adjust.

I heard the sound of footsteps descending the stairwell, heading fast our way.

I yanked at the stone door of the passageway and it scraped opened. I turned to Marcus. “Go.”

“Not without you.”

I shoved him through it.

Stone grated against stone as I secured it shut. I sensed Elijah before I saw him. With my back against the clandestine wall, I waited. Elijah flew around the corner. Underneath his arm, he carried Roman’s head.

“I was hoping I’d never have to see that again,” I said.

Elijah glanced at the count.

I gestured to Roman’s head. “Was he always that glum?”

“Whatever you tried here tonight didn’t work,” Elijah shot back. “Where’s Sunaria?”

“I have no idea.”

“We saw her enter.”

“You have Roman, or what’s left of him.”

He glanced at the head. “You told me he was alive.”

“He was, kind of, a few minutes ago.”

“What is this?”

“Ask him.” I pointed to Delacroix.

“Seems you impressed Lord Archer,” Elijah said. “But you don’t impress me.”

I shrugged.

“Out of all our descendants your lover murdered,” Elijah lowered his chin and locked his stare on mine, “you were the last.”

The truth had been glaring at me all this time and yet I’d not seen it. Elijah’s familiarity, a faint likeness distorted by time. The feeling that I knew him even though we’d never met.

“She planned to start with your brother, Ricardo,” he said, “but his friends took care of him. You were next. That night in the mausoleum, she couldn’t go through with killing a boy. She waited for you to age.”

I showed no reaction.

“Why do you think she left you in that house with Roelle?” He looked smug.

My gut twisted. “Give me one minute with her.”

“Then you’ll hand her over?”

“She’ll be in the tower.”

“We’ll be outside.”

* * * *

The aroma of iron flooded the nave, the scent of blood. There, scattered along the aisle and amongst the pews were men, some dead, others dying. The Creda had taken on the Stone Masters and won. I searched each man’s face. Glass and broken artifacts crunched beneath my feet. I found Lord Archer on the floor taking small breaths, leaning up against the font. I knelt beside him.

Archer’s complexion was morbidly pale. “We weren’t prepared.” He gasped.

“They’re ancients.” I offered him my wrist.

He turned away.

I ran my fingers up his blood-soaked sleeve. “Your right arm’s broken.”

He glanced at the deformity. “If I had any strength in that arm, I’d strangle you with it.”

“You want me to speed your death? That’s why you’re provoking me?”

“I want to die with honor, not discussing the finer points of life with the very creature I’ve dedicated,” he cringed with the pain, “my life to tracking down.”

I applied pressure to his wound. “Something’s different with me.”

“You look the same.” He pushed himself up and looked around. “My men?”

I bit into my wrist and held it over the gash on his arm, splashing my blood into the laceration. Archer flinched and his wound leaked serous fluid, as our blood intermingled, bubbling up and then reabsorbing. The cut healed.

I lifted my wrist to his lips. He pushed it away.

“How’s that pain?” I asked softly.

“Bastard, your filthy blood’s in me.”

“That arm either heals or you lose it. Or worse.”

“At least it would be an honorable death.”

“Death is death.”

“What do you want, Orpheus?”

“You must live.”

“Why?”

“Two reasons.”

Archer’s breathing was calmer. “Go on.”

“Firstly, because I find myself rather fond of you.”

“Ridiculous. And the second?”

“Deep down, you desire to truly understand what we are.”

“Get out of London.” Archer closed his mind.

“One minute and I’ll have what I need,” I whispered.

Archer’s fingers affectionately traced my cheek. “You don’t have that much time.” His eyes flickered to the right.

Several Stone Lords headed straight for us.

* * * *

The lid to the coffin where I’d placed Roman’s head was back in place. Candlelight threw shadows over the dark walls of the burial chamber. In here, there was nothing but stillness, a complete contrast to the mayhem above.

Sunaria loomed in the shadows. “Are they all dead?”

I looked her up and down. “Not exactly.”

“Elijah? Archer?” She studied my expression.

“This time, you behaved yourself and stayed put.”

She looked serene, beautiful even. I tried to shake off the effect she always had on me, considering whether to fuck her, or worse.

I stared at my hands. “You didn’t try to stop me?” Blood surged through them like never before. “You knew this would happen if I drank from him.”

Sunaria rested back on the middle casket. “You went through with it?”

“But you knew that when I entered, I saw it in your eyes.” A timeless essence rippled. A supernatural wellspring threatened to spill over into this moment and force my carnal hand. I quivered.

“Anyone who consumed him entirely and survived . . .” her gaze seemed to take in my new form with nervous excitement. “You are Status Regal, the most feared among us.” She slid off the coffin. “You’re magnificent.”

Stronger now, my muscles were taut, my physique sinewy.

Sunaria read my mind. “Elijah lied to you.”

“Did he?”

“I would never have gone through with it.” Her lips quivered.

“You were in my home town to kill Ricardo. To kill me?”

“Please listen—”

“Elijah was pretty persuasive in his argument.” I stepped toward her. “I read his thoughts.”

“That night in the mausoleum was meant to be my last. When I came across Ricardo, your brother, he was so brave and so sweet that I couldn’t go through with it.”

“So you admit that’s why you were there?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d believe me.” More tears. “When I first saw you, saw Aaron holding that cudgel over you, I had to stop him.”

“Why didn’t you warn Ricardo?”

“Daylight robbed me of the chance.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I love you.”

I raised a hand, gesturing for her to keep her distance.

She looked lost. “Let me explain.”

I nodded my permission.

“You’re not the last descendant of the Creda to be turned. Jacob is. This proves my innocence.”

I stared at her.

“I couldn’t let you die in Felipe’s courtyard,” she said. “Not after the night we spent together, after I rescued you in the carriage.”

“You know I still can’t remember it.”

“I gave you a small taste of me and then you reacted . . .” She sighed. “You took me.” Her eyelids flickered. “It was a dark promise of what it would be like if we became lovers.”

“Great, the best sex of my life and I don’t remember it.”

“Their ancestry endures through Jacob.”

“Are they searching for him?”

“I don’t know. I made sure they weren’t following you. I never once saw them.”

“You’d better be right.”

“You wanted to hear the truth, but I was terrified you’d leave.”

“Tell me how this all started,” I asked her.

“Mara, my three-year-old daughter, was taken from me by my master. He told me he sold her.”

“Why did you wait so long to kill him?”

“He warned me that if anything happened to him—”

“That’s what he had over you?”

“Yes.”

“But you killed him anyway.” I added coldly.

“Eventually, yes.”

“And the Creda?”

“They seduced me with the promise of helping me find my daughter.”

“They lied?”

“I would never have harmed you.” She tilted her head and stared off. “Some part of me hopes Mara’s still alive. Some part of me hates myself for even thinking it.”

“That she’s one of us?”

She nodded. “After you went to live with Roelle, I returned to Rome to continue my search for her.”

“When will the whole truth come out?”

“You won’t give me up to them?” she whispered.

My rage ignited and I bared my fangs, stomped my foot, and roared at her.

She cowered away from me.

My gaze wondered over her curves, her breasts rising and falling with each nervous breath.

“What does it feel like?” Her voice was low, husky.

“The view, let’s just say it’s different.” I pushed Sunaria back against the casket. Grabbing her dark locks, pulling her lips to mine, kissing her, I utterly possessed her. Sunaria’s hands shook. I pulled back, losing myself for a moment in her reverent gaze.

I wrapped her legs around me. “It’s like being drunk on the finest wine.” I thrust up against her and ripped at her dress, dragging it off over her shoulders, exposing her.

She shuddered.

I yanked the material down further, restraining her arms. “Or intoxicated by the purest opiate.” I offered her another kiss.

She closed her eyes and parted her lips, ready. I enjoyed seeing her vulnerable. My tongue found her nipple, encircling it, and then suckling, eliciting a moan from her.

My strength was such that I knew I’d surpassed hers, a rapid evolution that served only to strengthen my authority. Status Regal, the very title imbued power. I let her go and she glided off the casket. I yanked down her red dress, easing it over her hips, letting it fall to the floor, pooling around her feet.

“All vampires will bow before you,” she said in awe.

I directed her onto her knees. “Let’s start with you, shall we?”

* * * *

I opened up the secret passageway, making it ready.

Clutching Sunaria’s red dress, I flew back into the heart of the cathedral, up and into the nave. A row of candles resting on their brass holder burned brightly. I kicked them over and flames spilled out along the central aisle.

I flew up into the cathedral’s tower. It looked smaller on the inside than it had looked from the outside. Marcus had gone through with it. He’d coaxed one of Delacroix’s raven-haired vampires out of Blackfriars, and, once seduced, he’d tied her up in here. She looked familiar. I’d caught her making out back at Blackfriars. Her lover had gestured for me to join them.

I pushed her dark locks out of her face and dressed her in Sunaria’s red gown, which fitted her fairly well. I tried to ignore her crazed stare. Marcus had drunk from her, leaving her weak, but she still had a fight left in her. From a distance, it would be hard to discern that she wasn’t Sunaria. By the time the flames reached the tower and burned through her rope bindings, it would be too late. Ablaze, our maiden would fling herself out of the window. I doubted she’d make the ground.

I kissed her forehead.

Chapter 43

WITH A RESTLESS SPIRIT, I lingered outside the jewelry store where Sunaria had found Jacob’s locket.

A distant memory of who I’d once been barely remained. Fragments of my old life drifted in and out, but nothing that I could hold onto. Ancient blood refined my features, dissipating previous character traits. The promise I’d shown could never have foreshadowed such a transformation. Had I known that the elders possessed such preternatural power, I dare say I’d have pursued it, nevertheless, fate delivered.