Bloodlust Denied (15 page)

He
was the reason she looked forward to waking. The reason she was glad to be alive. Vengeance no longer called to her and she was cast adrift in a world where the rules had shattered and boundaries vaporized.

“Do you want me to leave?”

His jaw tensed. “Do you want to leave?”

She forced her fingers not to grip the fine fabric of her gown. “It wasn’t I who won the wager.”

“But if you had?”

Her heart jolted. He didn’t want her to go. “I would choose to stay.”

His expression remained the same. Tense. Watchful.

“Then stay.” He took a step toward the bed, hesitated, and once again his brow knotted. “You did win, Morana.” He sounded tortured and she couldn’t imagine what he meant. It didn’t matter what he meant. “I wouldn’t have allowed you to go whatever your answer.”

He didn’t want her to go
. Somehow, she had won their wager and he hadn’t told her because he had wanted her to stay. She knew she should be furious by his deception, yet she had the urge to laugh, to fling her arms around his neck, to whisper shocking, intimate confessions in his ear.

Instead, she leaned back on the pillows and arched one eyebrow. “Then why offer me a choice?”

He was silent for a moment. “To know your mind.”

If he knew her mind, if he could see into her heart, he would back away in horror. But she didn’t need to confess her love. She reached out and gripped his hand before he guessed her intention.

“Come to bed.”

He resisted. “You need to rest.”

She tugged a little harder, felt his resistance crumble. “The day I need my rest more than I need you is the day you can bury me in the ground.”

Instead of laughing, as had been her intention, horror rippled across his features.

“Don’t speak of such things.” His voice was rough as he finally succumbed and lay beside her, winding his arm around her shoulders and hugging her fiercely to his side. “You’re not leaving, Morana. Not yet.”

Morana drained the glass of port and shuddered as the fiery liquid scalded her throat and warmed a path into her stomach. She’d discovered a few days ago that consuming the sweet wine shortly before the duke returned home gave her a welcome shot of energy.

She took a deep breath, felt the wine slide into her bloodstream. She’d not passed out since that one time a week ago, and had no intention of doing so, either. Yet despite the fact Jane and her granddaughter had woken her only an hour ago, she felt as if she hadn’t slept in a month. The sofas beckoned her and she gritted her teeth. She would not sink down upon them and close her eyes for a few brief seconds, no matter how much the vision enticed.

She could put the inevitable off no longer. Tonight she would have to ask the duke, beg him if necessary, to search for Thanatos.

“I have a surprise for you.”

She smiled as the duke strode across the music room, her favorite room and where she could invariably be found. It was no coincidence there was no portrait on the wall of a blue-eyed, golden-haired angel, either.

“I love surprises.” He was always bringing her new gowns and undergarments—some of them shockingly seductive the like of which she’d never before encountered—and she accepted them because seeing her wear them gave him pleasure.

“Tomorrow we leave for Italy.”

Her eyes widened. That she hadn’t expected. “Italy?”

“I have property there. It’s been a while since I last inspected my estates. I believe the change of scenery will do you good.”

Dread licked through her soul, curled into her heart. She would never survive such a journey. But if it wasn’t for Thanatos, for the knowledge of what her selfish actions were doing to him, she would go to the ends of the Earth with the duke if he asked.

She rose onto her toes to kiss his lips, and his tongue delved into her mouth, yet he wouldn’t allow her the same extended exploration. With reluctance, she pulled back.

“There’s something I would ask of you.”

He made a sound of assent before trailing teeth kisses along the column of her throat. She swallowed and tried to focus her mind.

“I’m desperately worried for Thanatos’ safety. Is it not possible for you to discover his whereabouts?”

His lips paused at the hollow of her neck. “I’m certain he can take care of himself.”

“But still I worry.” She cradled his jaw and lost the remnants of her soul in the green depths of his eyes. “We’ve never been parted before.”

Something that looked very much like displeasure flared in his eyes. But surely he wasn’t jealous of her love for Thanatos? That would be as pointless as resenting the air she breathed or food she ate. All were necessary for her existence.

“I’ll arrange for him to be found.” He didn’t sound thrilled by the notion. “But I’ll tell you this now, Morana. I won’t have him living with us.”

Her smile faltered. “You won’t? But—”

“And I won’t discuss it. He might be your brother in all but blood but I still think he’s a damn pervert.”

If Thanatos was found, that was enough to save him. “You’re wrong about him, but I understand why you think that.”

“And I have every intention of telling him to his face.”

He glowered at her, obviously recalling that night in the alley. She didn’t bother hiding her amusement or her bone-deep relief.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

If anything, his glower intensified. “Has it never occurred to you,” he said, circling her wrists and jerking her against his body, “to use my given name?”

“If I knew your given name, perhaps I might be tempted to call you by it.”

His eyebrows shot up in clear surprise. How odd such a fact had never occurred to him.

“My name is Alexius.”

The laughter bubbling in her chest disintegrated as a white-hot spear of pain split through the center of her heart.

“Alexius.” The name sounded strange, unnatural on her tongue, and yet inexplicably also felt completely right.

But this pain pumping from her heart and overflowing into every particle of her being wasn’t right. A choked gasp strangled her throat and she doubled over, might have fallen had Alexius—
Alexius—
not been gripping her wrists in a punishing grasp.

He cursed and released her wrists before sweeping her into his arms and depositing her onto a sofa.

Alexius.

Desolation washed through her, as devastating and crippling as the moment she’d discovered her blood brother’s murder. Fear and rage and the knowledge of an eternity without her beloved brother Theron pounded through her arteries, thundered through her brain.

But Alexius wasn’t Theron.

“Morana! Speak to me.” Alexius’ harsh demand slammed through her, but although she stared at him and could see his eyes and lips and aristocratic beauty, it was another pair of hypnotic green eyes she saw in her mind, another pair of sensual lips, another man with dark, irresistible hair.

Alexius.

Her lungs contracted, oxygen evaporated. What memories were these? How could she recall Alexius from the thick fogs clouding her mind when she had only met him three years ago?

“What the fuck.” Alexius sounded rabid, yet so far away as if he yelled from across the vast chasm of time that separated them. She clutched at his sleeve, but her strength failed and she barely felt his fingers on her throat, his head against her breast.

Her brother had been attacked, savaged by vampires, and her grief was such that Death had taken pity upon her. He had given her this task, had allowed her the mantle of immortality so she could avenge his murder and placate her love.

But her love was scattering, swirling in a maelstrom of confusion and doubt. Everything she believed in, everything she’d clung to during countless lifetimes of bloodied revenge splintered into glinting shards of deception and betrayal.

She had lost her blue-eyed, golden-haired brother Theron, and she ached for the brutality of his passing. But this all-consuming love, this agony that corroded her soul and withered her heart, this constant crippling companion she’d existed with for more than two thousand years was
not for her brother
.

Uncomprehending, she stared up into Alexius’ face. The candlelight blurred her vision and she fancied she could see a glowing halo around his head.

Alexius. It made no sense, and yet he was her eternal beloved.

Raw fury blazed through Alexius, momentarily paralyzing his reflexes. Morana lay on the sofa, fighting for every tortured breath, her eyes glazed, her complexion as pale as if she’d been drained of every last drop of blood.

Except it wasn’t rage that clouded his reason or reached deep inside and twisted his gut. He’d lived with rage and disgust and indifference for millennia and knew well their countenance.

This was the same encompassing horror that had crucified him the night he’d discovered the bloody remains of his beloved Thea.

Fear.

Of losing Morana.

He’d been too late to save Thea. The life had drained from her body long before he’d reached her side. The terror in her blue eyes haunted him forever, the knowledge of how she had been betrayed clawed through his heart.

But Morana wasn’t dead. He ripped off his coat, wrenched up his shirt sleeve and sliced open his wrist. Lifting her head, he pressed his wrist against her lips, silently urging her to take what he offered.

The door opened. He knew without turning it was Jane. No one else would dare enter without permission.

“Your Grace.” She knelt beside him. Shock rolled from her. “Is this what she wants?”

Suck, damn it
. He lowered Morana’s head and forced open her mouth, crimson blood dripping between her bleached lips.

“She’s dying. This is the only way I know how to save her.”

It wasn’t true. There was another way he could save her, a way he could ensure she would remain with him for all time. But how could he force immortality onto her, the way it had been forced onto him when he cursed that twilight existence with every breath he had no need to take?

“You haven’t taken her blood.” Jane sounded confused.

Alexius gritted his teeth, fangs piercing his gums. He hadn’t taken her blood but as Morana’s mouth fastened against his wrist, as the pressure of her lips and tongue scalded his open vein, the need to take, to taste, to make her his for eternity throbbed between his temples and between his thighs.

The bloodlust exploded, a volcanic desire to slake the need he had denied for too long. But no longer was it enough simply to feed. He would drain her, utterly, and then she would feed from him and never again would he know the fear of losing the woman he loved.

A guttural groan rasped along his throat. He loved her. As he had once—and still—loved Thea. Morana would forgive him in time, would learn to adjust to her new existence. But fuck it, he was tired, exhausted, of this eternal survival where he could do nothing but watch people he reluctantly cared for grow old and die.

People like Jane and her ancestors and her descendants as yet unborn.

“Leave me.” He ignored her gentle touch and resigned sigh and waited until the doors closed behind her before once again focusing his entire attention on Morana.

Her vulnerable throat enthralled him. His fangs extended and his cock thickened in anticipation as he lowered his head.

Her eyes flew open.

The pressure on his wrist instantly diminished and he saw confusion cloud her eyes, before disbelief and finally horror washed over her.

“No.” Her whisper was barely audible.

He tried to retract his fangs, tried to pull back. But all he could do was lean closer to her throat.

“I won’t hurt you, my love.” He smoothed back her dark hair and a drop of blood fell onto her cheek, a crimson teardrop. “I’ll make you strong again.”

“Alexius.” She breathed his name as if he were her beloved, yet the expression on her face suggested she thought he was the most foul creature she had ever encountered.

But she wouldn’t think that soon. Soon, she would be grateful. Thankful he had saved her. He’d think of that, and not the look of despair now darkening her eyes.

“Don’t fight me,” he whispered, although he knew she didn’t possess the strength to fight him. “When you awaken, whatever ails you will never trouble you again.”

Her scent invaded, drenched his senses, arousal spinning through his blood. Another inch and he would pierce her flesh, sink into her artery and taste her tantalizing essence.

Her hand flattened against his shoulder and disbelief stabbed through him as she shoved him back, a feat of strength he’d not imagined possible.

“You
are
a vampire.” He didn’t miss her emphasis, but didn’t understand it. Because it suggested she had suspected such a thing and how could she?

“It makes no difference.” He pushed against her hand, but the pressure didn’t waver. She was as strong as she had been the night he’d bundled her into his carriage.