Original Sin (The Order of Vampires Book 1)

by Lydia Michaels

  His muscles locked and his head flung back, his mind swallowed by torment and his thoughts and words cauterized at the stem of his brain. He thrashed as his mouth filled with blood. His stomach convulsed, spewing red.

  The chains ripped from the wall and he lunged at the bars, eyes wild and fangs dripping. “Release me!”

  The Bishop’s eyes widened, a haunted expression draining the blood from his face. “You’re feeish.”

  Cain roared and yanked at the bars. “Now! She’s dying!”

  Bishop King’s hand flicked the air, sending Cain propelling backward. Impotent fury screamed out of him as his grip wrenched from the bars.

  “No, you bastard! She’s going to die if you don’t let me go to her! Hesslich—”

  Pain seared into his skull and he dropped to his knees, screaming as he gripped his temples. His face contorted as he collapsed to his side, writhing in agony. The Bishop held out his palm, commanding the pain, dropping all pretenses of patience.

  The cell doors opened and Cain twitched with the aftershocks of what could only be an aneurism in his brain. The pain receded to a stabbing blade in his temporal lobe. His body twitched in an imposed paralysis as Bishop King stepped over his wasted body.

  His shoes scraped into view. “I have compassion for your suffering, but my tolerance wears thin at your insolence. I assure you, the chains and bars are not what hold you here. Your struggles are pointless.”

  His jaw remained locked, preventing the passage of words as shockwaves tore through his nerve endings.

  “The pain will be over soon. Let us not speak of your brother’s mate again, my son.”

  Breath jerked through his teeth and nose as the Bishop stepped out of view and relocked the bars. The lamps extinguished, and his footsteps receded down the long corridor.

  The resounding pain in his skull spilled out of him in the form of tears. When he was finally alone, nothing but cold, emptiness filling his soul, his fists fell open on the filthy floor.

  “Annalise…”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Vito Santos pinched off the amber tip of his cigarette and tossed the butt into the potted plant a few feet from the door of the club. The empty parking lot welcomed lower middle class cars and a few high rollers, who could only be lost.

  Cars sped down the pocked pavement of Route 13. A superior waste of money had been dumped into redeveloping the median strips to contain gardens, but those plans had turned into a cemetery of weeds and litter. They were down to only two girls a night, with no fresh blood to entice a better clientele.

  The girls made shitty tips, but they’d work every dick in the place, doing whatever it took to wring every last dime from the few guys that came by. He checked his phone. Busy or not, he was stuck here until closing.

  Their clientele wasn’t the sort that promised any sort of escape. No, those big spenders hung at the city clubs. Vito had pushed for a promotion, but his bosses weren’t having it. Bouncing out the grabby comb-overs and holding the door for men willing to blow their paycheck on pussy, really didn’t bring a lot of purpose to his life.

  Seeing snatch on a daily basis had a way of desensitizing a man. The lure of a tight pair of lips or a nice set of tits faded long ago. It had been years since he’d touched a genuine set of tits. He was sick of the silicone implants, tired of doing favors for an after-hours hand job from a girl who just wanted to make it home to her kid but needed him to jump her battery.

  He loathed the man he’d become. Reaching in his front pocket, he withdrew another smoke. His thumb clicked the top of his zippo and he stilled. A horn blared. Brakes squealed.

  Headlights flashed as cars spun and swerved out of the way. Tearing metal screamed as someone plowed into the guardrail, sending sparks raining onto the pavement below.

  “The fuck?”

  A horn blared and someone yelled. He pocketed his lighter and squinted. The rails of the overpass blocked his view, and the screeching horn cut off.

  Something caught the corner of his eyes. A flash of white, like a sheet falling off the bridge into the vacant lot across Route 13.

  Cars rushed by. Another horn peeled into the air as a car swerved, lights splaying off course. The overgrown weeds of the median parted as a figure crossed.

  He rolled his eyes. Probably another fucking junkie trying to find their next high. Fucker better not come into his lot.

  Lighting his cigarette, he drew in a long drag and stilled. The frail form of a thin woman wearing only a nightshirt crossed into traffic.

  “Jesus! Watch out!”

  Brakes squealed as cars slammed to a stop. She moved undeterred.

  “Get out of the fucking road!” he yelled.

  A curtain of dark hair flowed in her wake, reaching past her hips. Something flashed on her face and he jerked back. She was still a good forty feet away, but heading right toward him.

  “What the…” Her eyes glowed.

  He dropped his cigarette and blindly reached for the door, missing, but too afraid to take his eyes off the woman coming at him. She looked like a witch, or that crazy bitch from the exorcist.

  Her eyes… He couldn’t look away. It was as if she compelled him to stay still. His phone rested in his back pocket, but he couldn’t reach for it.

  Her willowy form showed under her translucent gown. No one dressed like that. Even Walmart people wore more clothes, in public, at night.

  His skin prickled. Her feet were bare. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck… She was getting closer.

  She stopped. Her gaze lifted over his head. She turned her stare back to him, her glowing eyes studying his face. Mother of Christ she was stunning.

  Her ivory skin contrasted with the sheen of her ebony hair. And her lashes went on for days. Tall, lithe, natural curves…

  “Hello.” Her melodic voice cut through him, carving an open tunnel for blood to rush straight to his cock.

  Easily the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. He swallowed thickly, blinking out of his trance and mopping up the sweat gathering at the back of his neck. “What’s up?” He winced. He should have opened with something more original.

  “I’m Larissa. I’m from out of town.”

  No shit she was from out of town. She looked like she just rolled off a film set of some darkly erotic thriller. “I’m Vito.”

  “What place is this, Vito?”

  The sound of his name on her lips hardened his cock. She had an accent he couldn’t place. Sort of German. He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “That’s Silhouettes.”

  “Silhouettes?” she repeated, her head tilting and drawing his attention to her breasts. He bet they were soft, the way real tits were meant to feel. Her tight nipples pushed against the thin fabric.

  This was the sort of woman they needed. “You lookin’ for a job?”

  Her gaze lowered to his mouth. “A job? What do they do here?”

  “Dance. It’s a club. For men.”

  “But I’m a woman.”

  “I noticed. The men pay the women to dance for them. Haven’t you ever heard of a strip club?” She wasn’t the brightest knife in the drawer. Or bulb in the… How did the saying go?

  “I’m Amish. We don’t have such things where I’m from.”

  “You work at the Amish market?”

  Her brow creased. “No. I’m new.”

  Yeah, she looked brand fucking new, the kind of brand new he’d like to spank. What could he do for her to get her lips on him? “You lookin’ for work?”

  “Will they pay me?”

  The pretty ones were always a little off. “Can you dance?”

  She smiled, flashing perfectly white teeth. “I can do whatever I want.”

  Fuck. That mouth… “I can take you inside to meet Joe, the manager.”

  Her full lips parted, and she hesitated. “First I need to eat. It was an ordeal getting here and I’m … dizzy.”

  “You can order something at the bar—” His words cut off as her fingers grazed the stubble a
long his jaw. He hadn’t seen her move. “Uh…”

  “I think you and I will be great friends, Vito.”

  His cock thickened and he swallowed. His hand lifted to her back as those soft lips grazed the stubble at his jaw. “Me too. You want to see the inside of my car?” And my pants?

  Her tongue skated over his pulse, and his eyes rolled back in his head. She stepped closer, her soft breasts pressing against his chest.

  “What did you say your name was?”

  “Larissa. Stay still now.”

  His body jerked as she bit into his neck. His eyes widened, but he couldn’t think. His cock pulsed and his hands tightened over her hips as she swirled her tongue over his throat, giving him the hickey of a lifetime.

  Her fingers combed through his hair, soothing and lulling him. His spine tingled, his balls drawing up tight, and heat seeped into his briefs. Jesus, she made him fucking come in his shorts.

  And she just kept sucking on his throat. A flaccid calm washed over him. If she was the angel of death, he’d never been more content to die.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “Gracie!” Adam paced a trench in the floor, his insides corroding with fear.

  “Adam?” His sister knocked, and he yanked the door wide. “What is—” Her hands covered her mouth. “Oh, no…”

  “She’s not waking! This is taking too long. Something’s wrong!”

  His stomach churned with worry as she examined his mate. He waited for the slightest flutter of life, but only cold, stillness filled the room. His connection to her severed, and her pulse stopped.

  “Her wounds haven’t healed.” Grace gasped, pressing a trembling hand to her brow. “This gash should have closed.”

  “The bleeding stopped an hour ago.” But he understood her concern. Her wounds should have healed. Choking on his doubts, he lowered to the bed, his chest heaving with worry. He gripped her cold hand and rocked. “Anna… Open your eyes. I command you to wake up!”

  Gracie lowered a hand to his back, and he flinched.

  “What’s happening, Grace? Why isn’t she shifting? I feel nothing from her. I need you to get in her head.”

  “All right. Shh. Let me concentrate.” Her eyes closed, and he sensed her straining, felt the pinch of her shared panic.

  He choked on a sob. “Anything?”

  “Shh…”

  He continued to rub her hand, trying to warm her skin. He wouldn’t live without her. Not because she was his salvation, but because she was his heart. How would he breathe without her? How would he ever smile again?

  He pressed his damp eyes to her fingers. “Please, ainsicht… Don’t leave me.”

  “Her mind is quiet.”

  “Quiet or … silent?”

  Grace masked her emotions and drew in a slow breath, her eyes unblinking from his. “You must trust God’s plan, Adam.”

  His mind grappled to explain stillness. Everything had gone wrong the moment he saw Cain with her. “Did I do this?”

  “What? Adam, no.”

  “I lost control. Cain tried to protect her, but my rage…” His head pressed to Annalise’s still shoulder. “I love her. I vowed to protect her. And I did this to her!”

  Grace’s sympathy railed at him. “Adam, this is no one’s fault.”

  He choked, unable to swallow. He could hear the defeat in her voice. Predict the excuses waiting on her tongue. Humans were fragile. The bonding hadn’t gone exactly to plan.

  He pulled her into his arms, her limp, lifeless body draping over his lap. “No…” He refused to accept defeat. “We’re bonded. There’s no risk when—”

  “Adam, she was injured. If she’d had your blood earlier, perhaps—”

  “No!”

  Grace stilled and the air shifted. The hair on the back of his neck rose as if another presence entered the room. They both looked at Annalise, but she remained deathly still.

  His gaze shifted to the broken window, as the curtains lifted. His spine prickled, as wind howled through the trees.

  A rumble of thunder built in the distance, rolling toward the house. Gracie stood, approaching the sill as shards of wood and glass vibrated.

  Her gown whipped in the wind, and she cupped her kapp to her head. “What is that?”

  He squinted, gathering Annalise to his chest and moving to the window. Tree limbs bowed as the wind howled across the valley, pressing the fields flat with ripples of grain. Tables, left from earlier, tipped onto their sides and debris skipped across puddles.

  Gracie’s breathing quickened, her hands opening against the wind. “Do you hear that?”

  His neck prickled. The hair on his arms lifted. The howls grew as a sheet of rain formed a downpour, visibly speeding toward the house in a wall of hail.

  A deafening clap broke the sound barrier, as a bolt of lightning cracked the sky, knifing into a tree and setting fire to the limbs.

  He stepped back, his arms tightening around Annalise, and his other hand gripping Gracie’s sleeve. She stepped back, her hands still extended and trembling.

  “Something’s coming,” Adam whispered. “Something angry.”

  “The basement—Ahh!” She gripped her head, doubling over and releasing a blood-curdling scream.

  “Grace!”

  Her knees buckled, her body driven to the floor by some unforeseen force. Rain sprayed through the broken window as another tree blazed. Bolts of lightning split the sky, veins of fire stabbing into the earth, unlike anything he’d ever seen.

  “Grace!” The wind tore into the room, shuffling loose objects and buffeting his shouts. Using his body to shelter both Annalise and his sister, he crouched around them in the corner. “Tell me what you feel!”

  “Pain!” she screamed over the howling squalls. “Unbearable pain! I see it! Darkness. Cold and empty.”

  The wind climbed to a steady roar.

  “It won’t let go!” Gracie screamed, batting at her head and ripping at her hair. “Someone… I see…” Her jaw opened, and her eyes flashed. Her fangs punching through her gums as she hissed in pain.

  He felt the fury in the rain, heard the agony of the storm. “What do you see?”

  “Hands… Claws… Digging… Adam, who’s doing this to me? Get them out of my head! They’re in terrible pain!”

  “Who? Is it a male or female?”

  She covered her face, a sob ripping through her. “Bars! I see bars!”

  Thunder boomed, shaking the house as a gust of wind whipped open the bedroom door, blowing objects off every surface. The pitcher of water shattered, and Gracie screamed.

  The roof moaned as if ripping from the house. Trees bowed and the sky lit with a strobe of light. He cradled Annalise’s head to his chest and Grace screamed,“Caaaain!”

  As if syphoned deep into the earth, the wind cut away, pulling out of the room and tunneling into nothingness. They panted in the sudden silence, clothes drenched and eyes wide.

  Gracie blinked at him and scrambled to her feet, throwing a blanket over Anna. “It’s Cain. We have to go. Now, Adam!”

  “Where?”

  “We have to help him! He’s in pain. He forced his thoughts into my mind. He was in the wind. We have to leave, now! This is why she’s not transitioning!”

  Ice formed around his heart.

  “Look at me, Adam!” She gripped his face hard, demanding his focus. “I hear your panicked thoughts and I don’t know. Maybe he is… But we have to go. If you love Anna, we have to get her to Cain and we have to go right now.”

  Concern. Suffocating fear. Depraved fury. Shame. Anger. Regret. Humility. Desperation. Waning hope. Sorrow. He couldn’t tell his own emotions from the ones infiltrating him.

  He closed off his senses and caught his breath. Cain could save her. She needed Cain.

  His eyes shifted, and he leapt from the window, holding Annalise’s still body tight to his chest. His feet bit into the marshy ground and he lunged into a sprint.

  The wind pushed at his back, speedin
g his steps. He sensed Cain reaching for his mind, felt him pulling him closer with his desperate emotions.

  His heart jolted at the first sight of the hall and his mind opened. He kicked in the door and heard Cain’s scream, “Brother!”

  “Cain, I’m coming!”

  He raced through the building, down a flight of unlit stairs, and along a dark, winding corridor. Cain’s screams filled the underground passage, calling him to hurry.

  Adam turned the corner and slammed to a halt. Bishop Eleazar King blocked him. The Elder’s gaze dropped to the precious bundle in his arms.

  “You don’t belong here.”

  Adam bared his fangs. “I demand to see my brother!”

  The Bishop shoved into his mind and Adam shoved back. “Your brother is locked in a holding cell for the safety of your mate.”

  Adam looked at the man with wide eyes, his hand flicking the quilt off of Annalise’s face. “She needs her mate. I’ve failed.”

  The Bishop’s lips parted, and Adam pushed past him, yelling for Cain and racing down the long corridor.

  “Adam! I’m here!”

  He slid to a stop, crawling with Annalise on his lap, as close as the bars would allow. “She’s not waking!”

  Cain blinked up at him. Blood seeped from his eyes, a sign of impending death. His face was gaunt, and he looked as though he’d suffered several deaths since Adam last saw him.

  Adam pulled away the quilt, exposing her pale features. Cain lifted an unsteady hand and touched her cold skin. Regret flashed in his eyes and Adam understood what needed to happen.

  There was only one way to save her. He would be forever lost without her, but she would not be lost to the world.

  “She’s yours,” he rasped.

  Cain’s gaze clashed with his. The Bishop approached, a mask of uncertainty on his face. Adam nodded for him to unlock the bars.

  “Bond with her,” he rasped, gently passing Annalise to his brother’s lap. “You must.”

  “She’s already bonded,” the Bishop snapped. “You defile the sanctity of your calling—”

  “We’re losing time!” Adam shouted. His eye’s pleaded with his brother. “Please.”

  The Bishop’s voice hardened. “She’s your wife!”