Unleash (Vampire Erotic Theatre Romance Series Book 6) (13 page)

He had been an innocent two thousand years ago and he still was.

It wasn’t Snow who committed atrocious acts. It was the terrible affliction he had been born with.

She had seen him suffer in the aftermath of every incident, loathing himself, and even begging Antoine to kill him. Antoine had seen the good in Snow too and had refused to give up on him, and that had given her the strength to do the same.

There was still a part of her that hated him though, both for everything he had done and the fact that he had forgotten her.

When he had recovered from his latest bout of bloodlust and she had revealed herself to him, she had expected him to remember her. He hadn’t. It had bitterly disappointed her.

Now, in order to save her soul, she had to judge his. She refused to say outright that he was beyond salvation. She would do her best to view him and his actions independently of her feelings, with open eyes and an unclouded heart.

Snow’s breathing turned heavy and he muttered in his sleep, tossing his head side to side, his hands and legs twitching, rattling the inch-thick chains.

She gazed upon him, seeing a powerful male stripped of his strength by a debilitating curse.

Whenever she saw him like this, falling into his bloodlust, she ached for him and had done for centuries. She felt responsible for everything he had suffered. If she hadn’t intervened that night, he never would have fallen victim of his affliction.

But he never would have lived either.

He had been so young, just like her.

He bucked and snarled, his immense body bowing off the four-poster bed and pulling the chains tight.

A nightmare haunted him. It would send him back down into the darkness if she didn’t intervene.

She crossed the room, clambered onto the black covers on the bed and curled up next to him with her knees against his side and his right arm beneath her ribs. She gazed down at him and touched his cheek. What did he dream? She wished she could see them. She would know how to ease his suffering if she could and perhaps it would help her judge him.

He growled, baring his fangs, and the muscles in his jaw popped. She stroked the backs of her knuckles across his cheek and he snapped his teeth at her. It didn’t stop her this time.

She withdrew her hand only enough that he couldn’t reach it, waited for him to return to fighting his bonds, and then caressed his cheek again. It was cool and surprisingly soft now that his stubble was gone.

His face twisted in a grimace. Not a grimace, she realised as a tear slipped from the corner of his eyes and his pain echoed into her through the point where they touched. Fathomless pain. Did he dream of his family and that dreadful night?

Her eyebrows furrowed, sorrow filling her heart and making it ache for him. He had suffered enough in life. Did he have to suffer in his dreams too? She wished he could dream beautiful things, not such horror, but she knew that it haunted him, a torture he felt he had to endure in exchange for his sins.

If she could have gone to him that night, she would have.

Not so she could spare herself the weight of his sins, but so she could have spared him this eternal torment and suffering.

She wrapped her arms around his head so the back of it rested upon her left forearm, his soft white hair caressing her skin, and held him, trying not to squash his arm beneath her, hoping to give him some comfort amidst his pain. Her body tingled where his touched it, aware of him and how close to each other they were.

Snow stirred, sleepy and dazed, tears in his soulful blue eyes.

She hushed him when he frowned and looked as though he might protest about what she was doing.

“Go back to sleep,” she whispered and his eyes slipped shut again.

She softly sung to him as she stroked his silver-white hair, hoping the sound of the melody would bring him good dreams, and looked down at his peaceful handsome face. She had never held a man like this before. It moved her. Stirred her. She felt dangerously attracted to him, hyper-aware of his powerful body and masculine scent.

She felt curious about things.

Her eyes drifted down to his profanely sensual mouth.

How would his lips feel against hers?

Soft. Hard. Rough. Warm. Cool?

It was difficult to resist finding out the answer.

She focused on singing to him, monitoring his emotions at the same time, her hand moving in a constant motion against his snowy hair.

He had grown into a beautiful male. Many women had known his lips and his touch. She had hated them all. None of them had been good women. None of them had deserved the affection he had bestowed upon them during their time together.

They had all led Snow to sin in some way, whether it was convincing him to join a war he didn’t truly believe in or kill another male for their sake. They had all used his immense power and his standing within vampire society as a means of getting something they wanted and had used his heart to make him do as they bid.

He hadn’t been with a woman in a very long time.

She was the only female to lie in his bed in many centuries. The first female to be this close to him since his bloodlust had emerged.

It thrilled her.

It shouldn’t, but it did.

She watched him sleeping, losing track of time as he peacefully slumbered, his breathing steady and heart beating at a relaxed rhythm. She liked that she could steal his pain away and give him peace. It gave her hope that he could redeem himself and was worthy of saving.

He stirred again, his eyelids slowly lifting to reveal pale blue eyes that had intrigued her the night they had met. A frown creased his brow and he tilted his head back to stare up at her.

He stared at her in silence for so long that she began to feel self-conscious and was about to ask what was wrong when he spoke.

“Aurora?”

That word again. She frowned now.

His eyes softened and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You could not speak then… I never knew your name.”

A hot shiver spread outwards from her heart and through her limbs, lightening her insides. He remembered her.

“I couldn’t speak because it was a punishment for being late to my classes and speaking back to my master.” She took her hand away from his hair and settled it on his chest, feeling his heart pumping against his ribs.

He smiled at her. “We met under the most beautiful aurora borealis I had ever seen. When my… I decided to give you a name. Aurora.”

Aurora.

Whenever he said that word in his sleep, he was dreaming of the night they had met? He was calling out for her?

He had called out that word over three weeks ago too, on the stage of Vampirerotique when the bloodlust and his memories had conspired to drive him out of his mind. He had shouted for her and asked her to take him home with her.

He had said she was prettier than the heavens.

A fierce blush crept onto her cheeks.

“What is it?” Snow whispered and moved his left arm as though he wanted to touch her cheeks. The cuff stopped him, the chain tightening and jerking his hand back. The curiosity and concern in his pale eyes faded, replaced by regret that she could sense in him. “I feel terrible that I forgot you… I am sorry.”

He looked at her wings and the guilt she could feel in him worsened, and then he closed his eyes, as though he couldn’t bear to see all of the black feathers now that he knew he had caused them.

“Everything you must have suffered,” he said in a low pained voice. “It is all my fault.”

She shook her head and he opened his eyes and looked up at her again, remorse still colouring his expression.

“You couldn’t help it.” She believed that. He had been led astray many times in his life, following his heart, and then his bloodlust had awoken and had made him do other terrible things.

“What is your real name?” Snow’s pale grey eyebrows knitted together and she was glad when some of the pain in his eyes lifted, curiosity beginning to fill them again.

“Angels do not have names.”

“That is sad, in a way.”

It was just the way things were. Her kind didn’t have names. His kind didn’t have wings. This was the way of it.

“I have never thought about it before now… but perhaps I could have a name.” It was a dangerous thought to entertain. She liked the idea of having a name. There were so many of them in this world that the possibilities were endless. Everyone at the theatre had a different one and many of them suited the person. Such as Snow.

What name would she have if she could?

She looked back down at Snow, into his ice-blue eyes, and tilted her head until it was at the same angle as his and she was looking at him straight on. “Could I have the name you gave to me?”

He smiled. “I would like that, Aurora.”

She smiled too, enjoying the lyrical way that word sounded whenever he said it and hearing her name for the first time.

Would she get into trouble for having a name? It would make her stand out from the other angels, an individual amongst a collective. Would her master punish her for desiring such a thing?

She found she didn’t care.

She was Aurora now.

A
urora paced her quarters in her master’s home, her gaze turned inwards, giving her the ability to watch over Snow. He interacted with the others at Vampirerotique, moving around the theatre, dressed as handsomely as he had been at the celebration.

It had been two days since she had last visited him and she was beginning to find it impossible to ignore her desire to return to him. She needed to maintain her distance though. Whenever she was around him, she found herself entertaining thoughts that shocked her.

Such as kissing him.

She still longed to know the feel of his lips and his taste. Her master would punish her if he knew she had imagined kissing Snow many times over the past two nights while she had been watching him.

Snow had shown no sign of his bloodlust emerging.

He conversed with his fellow vampires, entertained the twins, and had even made a rather heartfelt apology to Payne and his female witch, Elissa. It had touched Aurora and strengthened her belief that Snow was capable of turning his life around, saving himself from death, if his terrible affliction would only leave him in peace.

The young incubus boy she knew as Luca had interrupted them in the end, demanding that Snow play with him as he did with the babes. Snow had spent almost an hour amusing the boy, kneeling on the wooden floor of Payne’s grey room and playing with a toy train set.

That still made her smile and warmed her heart.

If only her master could see him as she did, she was sure he would change his mind about Snow and her mission to judge him. Snow had committed terrible acts but he also did good. Somewhere deep within him was the youth he had once been, before the world had conspired against him to turn him evil.

Antoine entered Snow’s black room and settled himself on the edge of the double bed while Snow poured him a glass of blood. This was progress she hadn’t expected. Snow had always avoided blood in an open container such as a glass if he wasn’t restrained. Did he feel confident enough about his control over his bloodlust now to drink from a glass when unfettered?

She smiled at that.

The sound of a door opening below her drew her attention away from Snow for a second. Her master was home. She wanted to make him watch Snow and force him to see the other side of the vampire he believed was pure evil and incapable of good. Her master would refuse though. He always had. As far as he was concerned, Snow deserved to die.

Snow sat on his bed beside his brother, discussing business matters and new ideas Antoine wanted to try out in the next season at Vampirerotique. Snow tipped his head back and glanced up at the ceiling. His beautiful blue eyes remained locked on it for a few seconds before he dropped his chin and continued talking to Antoine.

He had done that often over the past forty-eight hours.

Was he thinking about her?

Did he want her to come back?

She pretended that thought didn’t please her and she didn’t desire to do as he silently bid because she ached to return to him too.

She longed to touch him again.

Ever since he had bitten her, new feelings had bombarded her, as though the act had unleashed a dormant ability to experience emotions that as far as she knew were ones beyond an angel’s grasp.

Such as desire.

Whenever she gazed into Snow’s eyes or caressed his hair or skin, her belly heated and quivered, and her body shook, her temperature rose, her palms sweated and she blushed.

She also had a wicked urge to strip him bare and run her hands over him.

No good would come of succumbing to those desires.

If her master discovered that she harboured such feelings for Snow, he would believe her compromised and would judge Snow in her stead. He would kill him without a fair trial or hesitation.

Her master entered her small white room and she severed her connection to Snow, bringing her vision back to her realm. He stood in the doorway, his pure wings tucked against the back of his casual white robes. He had tied his black hair into a ponytail and his amethyst eyes had an edge that she didn’t like.

“It has been many hours since you were last in the mortal realm. Have you already made your decision?” He remained standing ramrod straight, as she expected of him. He had always been stiff and formal, and many angels wondered why he had taken her under his wing. Even as a child, she had been considered a hellion and beyond salvation.

Just like Snow.

“No,” she said and turned to face him with resolve in her heart. “I am watching him from here. He interacts daily with the other residents of the theatre, especially the twin babies and the young boy, all without incident or danger. When I have seen enough to make an informed decision, I will give you my judgement.”

His expression remained emotionless but the edge to his purple eyes sharpened. “Do you believe you will be able to make that decision before the deadline?”

“Deadline?” Her heart skipped a beat. He had never mentioned a deadline.