Chain Me (The Ellie Gray Chronicles Book 2)

by Lana Sky

  Once she left, I ate quickly, tasting nothing. The food helped. After a few minutes passed devoid of any cramping, I paced before venturing from my room to examine the manor proper.

  Something told me that Dublin hadn’t bought this property on a whim. There was too much of his personal style embedded within everything from the subtle silver accents to the almost cathedral-like architecture. I suspected he had owned the place for a while, a fact that intrigued me more than I wanted to admit. It was easy to forget just how old he was. And how wealthy. How powerful.

  The man possessed a string of unknown credentials—being a doctor included. I’d witnessed firsthand his procurement of an orphanage, and he seemed to own countless buildings and enterprises. A collector, in a sense. If I wanted to be morbid, his interest in me made perfect sense—a man so wealthy and bored that he collected properties and money like candy. What else was Gray Manor but a token to add to his list?

  And what was I other than a fun diversion?

  Stop, Ellie. I rubbed my arms, shivering. A chill lingered over the lower level as if no one had thought to heat it. Considering that a vampire owned the place, who would?

  Seeking warmth, I returned to my room, and there I lingered, no better than a bird in a cage.

  In my quest to prove as a fitting antagonist to Dublin, I did my best to appear only somewhat presentable before he came for me. The resulting look required one of Yulia’s dresses—mysteriously found within the room’s only wardrobe. Floor-length and composed of black lace, it sported a modest though no less elegant neckline. After a halfhearted bit of styling with my wet fingers, my curls no longer stuck out in all directions, so that was a plus—and about where my efforts extended.

  If he expected more, that was his problem.

  As night fell, I finally descended to the foyer. Only to find Dublin already there waiting. One look at him reinforced just how futile my pathetic attempts had been.

  The air left my lungs, driven out by the formidable silhouette he cut. His suit was black, crowned by a silver tie that made his eyes nearly unbearable to meet head-on. So I stared at his chest instead, noticing a ruby-red corner pocket.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked as I descended the final step.

  A quick, disinterested glance in his direction was the only response he received. In silence, he extended his arm for me anyway. As we exited through the manor’s main door, flecks of rain fell from an indigo sky and I shuddered.

  It was colder here than in the city. My teeth were chattering within seconds, lending an eerie backdrop to the howling wind playing through swaying trees. Where exactly were we?

  Dublin provided no explanation. Using my grip on his arm, he guided me down a paved stone path toward a circular driveway where a car waited. A new driver stood at the ready, and I felt more disoriented than ever.

  “Where are we?” I finally asked.

  While I couldn’t see Dublin’s face from this angle, I recognized the subtle clenching to his jaw just fine. I wasn’t the only one capable of giving the silent treatment. Fine. Biting my lip, I withheld any further questions as he guided me into the back seat of the car and climbed in beside me.

  He leaned forward to mutter something to the driver and the man nodded, flicking a dial on the console. Then he sat back, staring in any direction but mine. It wasn’t long into the drive that I realized we weren’t far from civilization after all.

  Though one very different from the world I’d grown up in. Judging from the few street signs we passed—all written in the same obscure language—I seriously doubted that we were still in the country. Beautiful renaissance-style architecture cemented that suspicion. Buildings framed in Romanesque columns, and ruby tiled roofs cast a surreal atmosphere, almost as though we’d stepped back in time.

  “Can I ask where we are now?” Awe colored my voice, but I struggled to swallow my irritation as Dublin remained silent. The hostility between us felt as palpable as the heat flooding the car’s interior from the vents.

  Later, I’d let myself mull over the fact that he must have requested as much for my benefit—it wasn’t like he was the one shivering. At the moment, I didn’t even bother to thank him but stoically faced ahead.

  Until the driver finally pulled up before a grand building made of tan stone, built in a stunning mixture of classic and renaissance architecture. My mouth fell open. As Dublin circled around to my side of the car and helped me out, I still gaped.

  “I plan on meeting someone here.” He finally spoke, lowering his mouth to my ear as we joined a throng of beautifully dressed patrons queuing up to enter the building. “Stay close to me.”

  The venue was a theater—a fact that became obvious the moment we passed through the grand entrance and entered a lobby draped in hues of red and gold. It was a luxurious sight far beyond that of even the vaulted theaters my family frequented.

  Without bothering to stop near the box office, Dublin led me up a set of stairs, draped in scarlet runners, that deposited us within a secluded hallway. Gilded doorways lined it, shrouded by hanging ruby curtains. Near the very end of the corridor, Dublin pulled me through one, revealing a small, enclosed space with a breathtaking view of a circular stage below.

  It was a private box. Four red velvet chairs lined in gold were positioned near the balcony. Placed on each cushion was a cream-colored program revealing the details of tonight’s show—written in the unknown language.

  “Have a seat,” Dublin commanded, pulling out the nearest chair for me. “He should be here soon.”

  He didn’t look very excited for this meeting. I wasn’t the sole reason for his thunderous expression, apparently. Though before I dared to ask, his clenched jaw warned that he wouldn’t divulge any details of our mysterious guest. Rather than press him for any, I busied myself with perusing a program I couldn’t even read.

  Eventually, Dublin settled onto the chair beside mine, and beyond us, the theater began to fill. One by one, nearly every seat became occupied with a beautifully dressed patron—all but the two empty ones beside us. By the time the curtained entrance to our box finally shifted, the main lights had already begun to dim.

  The man who entered—with a chilling smile and blood-red hair—was a vampire. I knew even before his grin widened to reveal sharpened fangs. A poisonous chill proceeded him, setting every nerve in my body on edge. In his wake stood a tall, blond woman wearing a floor-length navy gown. A thick strip of black velvet obscured her throat, forming a fashionable choker, and a matching headband held the curls back from her face. But the style only enhanced her lifeless, glassy eyes as they drifted aimlessly around the room.

  “Dmitri,” Dublin said gruffly. He stood and shook the hand the man had extended in his direction—but his shoulder flexed as if he were applying far more strength to the gesture than protocol called for.

  “Dearest Dublin! I was surprised to receive your invite.” Surprisingly lilting, the other man’s voice betrayed a distinct accent. Russian? “And I must say that I’m even more intrigued to find you have your own guest. I was intending to share.” He gestured absently toward the blond.

  She staggered, giggling at nothing.

  “There’s no need to share tonight,” Dublin said, but even I didn’t miss the subtle warning in his tone. He extended his hand to me and I took it—but even I had enough sense to realize that it wasn’t a loving gesture, but a possessive one.

  “Relax, Dublin,” Dmitri urged with another hearty chuckle. “Do sit. We have so much to discuss. You as well.” He gestured to an empty chair and snapped his fingers before his companion’s nose.

  The dazed blond stumbled forward and obediently claimed the seat beside him. At the same time, a hum from the orchestra warned that the show was starting.

  The four of us watched in unnatural silence as the curtains lifted and the actors took their places. It was an opera. One performed by singers who bared their souls upon the stage—but it wasn’t the typical tragedy.

  A yo
ung girl lamented her fate—doomed to love a man she could not have. Her anguish easily translated the language barrier, and I could follow the plot as easily as if someone were whispering it to me in my ear.

  Her lover belonged to a faction far beyond her station. Their love was all but impossible, yet he had been willing to forsake it all.

  For her.

  Together, they escaped and were even blessed with a child along the way.

  But ultimately, their romance was doomed.

  A man her lover cherished like a brother tracked them down. Unwilling to accept their union, he slaughtered the woman and her unborn child, leaving her lover to mourn them alone.

  And plot his revenge…

  By the time the final scene before intermission drew to a close, I felt chilled to the bone, my throat dry. Even Dublin sat unusually stiffly, his gaze fixed on the stage. Something told me that this particular production had been chosen specifically.

  For him.

  “Marvelous! Marvelous!” Dmitri exclaimed, clapping his surprisingly slender hands. “They were going to perform a ballet,” he added as the lights returned to full brilliance and the curtains drifted shut. “Something about a swan. I casually slipped the director some inspiration, however.” He laughed, his teeth glinting like ivory in the orange glow of a hanging chandelier. “Dublin has always nursed a fondness for the arts,” he told me with a wink. “Theater. Music. What was that phrase you used to spout? ‘Music is the only damn thing humanity possesses worth saving.’ He was a different man back then though, called by another name.”

  I shuddered in remembrance of it. Cael. A creature even Saskia had feared.

  “I hope I’ve impressed you both,” Dmitri added, fingering the collar of his scarlet suit.

  “It’s entertaining. That’s for damn sure,” Dublin replied. His tone was anything but impressed. He sounded uneasy.

  Feeding off the grim emotion, I shifted, uncrossing my legs. Re-crossing them. I couldn’t keep still. Dread formed a physical pressure, crushing my stomach. More cramping? I brushed one of my hands against my belly, just for a second—but even as I drew it away, Dublin had already snatched my wrist.

  Casually, he settled my hand against his lap instead.

  “So, what has brought you here?” Dmitri wondered, eyeing us, a smile playing on his red lips. “All the way to Italia. I know you prefer the States—”

  “Remember that favor you owe me?” Dublin interjected.

  “Ah…” He nodded. “And how is the dearest Yuliana?”

  “Consider this a collection call,” Dublin hissed, ignoring the question. “You want to remain in hiding? Well, my friend here has a morbid fascination with vampires. In fact, she’s too curious for her own good. You know more about our kind than anyone. So, humor her.”

  “Lies,” Dmitri scolded with another hearty laugh. His eyes glinted, a mysterious mixture of brown and green. “I’m surprised it’s taken you so long to try and weasel out my many secrets, old friend. But you’ve never expressed an interest before. Especially not after my ‘exile.’”

  “I have no interest,” Dublin insisted. “However, my companion has a rather naïve outlook on our condition. Her innocence amuses me, but I’ve grown tired of having to humor her questions. Enlighten her.”

  It was a dare. One Dmitri seemed more than willing to accept.

  He shifted in his seat to offer me his hand directly. As pale as snow, his palm glowed in the soft lighting. I eyed it, motionless, until I sensed Dublin’s gaze on my throat, issuing a silent command. It’s okay. But when I finally placed my fingers within Dmitri’s, his clamped over them in a vise grip.

  “Such a sweet girl,” he murmured, his smile widening. “Where on Earth did you find her?”

  “Don’t talk to me,” Dublin snapped. “You answer her.”

  “V-Vampires seem…n-nice,” I managed to croak in the silence following their banter. Mentally, I berated myself for sounding so damn naïve—but then I felt Dublin nudge my shoulder. Keep going. “D-Do you get married?”

  “Marriage? Oh, she is darling!” Dmitri chuckled in amusement. With deft grace, his fingers skimmed my palm and I shivered.

  He felt even colder than Dublin.

  “Marriage is a very human concept, my dear,” he explained in an almost fatherly tone. “When you’ve lived as long as we have, something as trivial as a ring ceases to hold any true value. There is much more stock placed in loyalty. Obedience. Isn’t that right, my darling?” He glanced at the blond, but I doubted she’d even heard him. Had she been drugged? If so, something told me that the poison in her veins wasn’t what most women used to chase a high.

  Her dreamy smile concealed the taste of something a bit more…organic.

  “What about children?” Dublin wondered offhandedly. His expert skills of manipulation were on display, steering the conversation while he still feigned disinterest. “She’s mused on that before.”

  “Has she?” Dmitri’s eyes snapped in my direction so quickly that I recoiled. “What a strange question, my dear.” As he spoke, his frigid fingertips continued to stroke my hand, and it took everything I had in me not to yank it back.

  “I… It’s just something I saw in a movie once,” I stammered. Not a total lie. In the early days of my self-imposed loneliness, I might have decided to torture myself by renting every vampire-based movie known to man. All of them. “Can vampires—and humans—have children—”

  “Of course not.” He released his grip, allowing my hand to fall. “At least nothing that I could dare call a ‘child.’”

  A cold, icy feeling resonated through my stomach. “How…how so?”

  “It would be an abomination, my darling.” He flicked his fingers to dismiss the mere idea. “A nonviable creature. There have been stories, terrible things.” His eyes sought mine, gleaming with callous amusement. “Thankfully, such creatures are rumored to have mercifully died within the womb. And there is almost always a curse within play, those nasty things. Why, any of my kind foolish enough to even attempt to sire a living child would most surely forsake his eternity.”

  “Forsake?” I asked in a whisper.

  Beside me, Dublin was stone. Had he known any of these rumors? I couldn’t tell from his expression—hard and unreadable, stone once more.

  In a sense, I probably resembled him. I couldn’t breathe.

  “He’d become forever damned.” Dmitri shrugged. “A creature doomed to never die, no matter how the world may decay around him. A terrible bargain, I’m sure. Especially in exchange for such a twisted parody of nature. Oh, I wouldn’t trouble your pretty little mind with such horrors.” He mimed shooing away an invisible fly. “Best to not even think of such things.”

  “Oh.” It was all I could say—just a gasp disguised as something intelligible. Twisted images filled my head before I could block them out, giving vivid life to his brutal imagery.

  Death. Dying. Deformed.

  “Though Dublin would know better than I,” he added, chuckling. He inclined his head at the man beside me. “Right, old friend? After all, I believe that Mero was the first to—”

  “Don’t,” Dublin warned, sitting forward. “Do not mention him.”

  “Ah.” Dmitri rubbed his hands together with barely concealed glee. “We still aren’t allowed to say his name, I see. Not even his given one? Oh, well. His little friends certainly seem emboldened these days. I hear even the bothersome Gray girl has taken a side for once. Either that or vanished. The other one, of course.” He eyed me pointedly, his lips quirked. “Georgiana, I believe her name is?”

  “Side?” I croaked. Something in how he’d emphasized that word…

  It terrified me to my core.

  “Well, I’d consider it more like a lack of objection, one might say. Though it could be as the rumors claim and the poor girl has simply disappeared, gone without a trace—”

  “Enough,” Dublin bellowed. “This isn’t the time for your mind games.”

  “M
ind games? I’m sure you learned the truth well before I did, what with your network of little spies. Mine told me that you were on your way the second your plane landed. And while you didn’t bother to introduce your guest, I know her name well enough.” His head swiveled in my direction. “Eleanor Louise Gray, the second-to-last living heir in the entire Gray line, barring her uncle of course. My my, Dublin, you didn’t think to tell her that her own sister has signed her death warrant? That is rather cruel, even for you.”

  “What?” The room bled into formless color around me. Only Dublin’s face held any real definition—his mouth strained, his eyes turned away.

  “I said enough,” he growled.

  “Pity. I could tell her so much more.” Dmitri lifted his hand to my cheek. “Such a pretty little thing—”

  “You touch her and I’ll kill you.” Dublin didn’t even look like himself anymore. Hunched forward, he radiated an ageless power, every bit as commanding as Raphael.

  Dmitri’s smirk never wavered, but he shrank back, contritely bowing his head. “I meant nothing by it, Dublin,” he simpered. “The rumors have buzzed with how much of a liking you’ve taken to her. I wouldn’t dream of harming her—though I do wonder how long it will be before…”

  “Before what?” Dublin hissed.

  “Before the owner of her bloodline comes searching for his little toy. They’ve followed you here, though I’m sure you know that. I don’t think they even know why they need her dead. Mere soldiers following orders. His orders. How ironic that her sister may have volunteered to carry them out—”

  The room spun as their conversation divulged into distorted noises and hushed voices. Nothing mattered but a single thought I couldn’t suppress. Georgiana wanted me dead?

  Or…she was missing.

  “…must ask why you care about this one anyway?” Dmitri added, his voice regaining clarity. “Everyone knows that you kept an unusual interest in the other one. Such a beauty. If I had to place money on which woman you might desire, it would be—”

  “Eleanor!” Dublin reached for me as I knocked the chair over in my rush to stand, hitting the floor on my hands and knees.