“I didn’t see the bodies myself,” she says with a sniff.
“Forgive me if I don’t believe this little display of sensitivities.”
She glowers at me. As much as I prefer her to Malfas, I’m not about to fall for this wide-eyed innocent act. She’s a vampire, for god’s sake. She’s hardly blood shy.
“Fine. They were drawn and quartered.” She pouts at me before turning away from me.
“That would have taken some time. You didn’t think to help them?”
“And risk our lives?” Malfas turns, his eyes expressionless voids. “For them? No.”
“So, while you were cowering away in your castle, your men were slaughtered?” The Mother takes a sip of her blood, her expression controlled.
“Er, yes, Mother.”
“And how do you think you can be of assistance?”
“Sorry?” Malfas steps towards the Mother, dropping to his knees at the side of her chair, not understanding her question.
“How exactly are you going to help me find those responsible for Kirdem’s death? When you saw nothing. You did nothing.”
Malfas and Caelia both pull back, startled by the coldness in the Mother’s voice.
The Mother leans forward, her hand moving to Malfas’s cheek. She runs her nail down his cheekbone, digging into his skin. A trickle of blood drips down his face, but he doesn’t move.
I’ve seen her like this before and it never ends well. Malfas knows that too. He’s at a loss for what to do. He can’t explain himself without making her angrier. He can’t change the past and prove himself not to be a coward, but he can’t apologise either. He can’t show weakness because she’ll end his existence for that too.
“I should end you now,” she says. “I should take Wales from you.”
“Pl-pl…” He stops himself, knowing better than to beg. That would be his end.
“You have no respect for the lives I’ve allowed you to govern. They are not playthings. Toy soldiers for you to use as cannon fodder. They are my children.” She gets to her feet and closes her eyes for a brief second. “You are not welcome here. Return to Wales and await my instruction.”
Then, without so much as another look at anyone, she leaves the room.
“Everette,” Caelia says as they both turn towards me.
There is hope in their eyes. Terrible, fearful hope. They think I can convince the Mother to save them. But I know that I can’t. I can’t change her mind. Kirdem was always the one that could ease her anger, soften her temper. Not me.
“I think you better leave.”
“She’ll have us killed,” Malfas says, still on his knees. “You have to…”
“I have to do nothing. My loyalty is to the Mother. As should yours be. If she wishes you to die, you should do it willingly.”
Even as I say the words, I think of Farah and how I would fight the Mother for her. I think of how only a few hours ago, I had been tempted to do just that for the human upstairs.
“Everette,” Malfas tries again.
“Go home and await the Mother’s instruction.”
Caelia recovers herself quicker than her mate and gets to her feet. Her voice quakes only slightly as she says, “Come M-malfas.”
“I don’t understand. What did we do wrong?” Malfas whispers to Caelia as he takes her hand and gets up off the floor. “We have lived this way for centuries. We have always ruled this way.”
I follow them out of the sitting room and close the front door behind them. Then I rush up the stairs, panicked that the Mother might be in the room with Farah. It’s a fleeting, irresponsible fear, and it quickly dissipates when I find the Mother standing at the window at the top of the stairs, staring out at Malfas and Caelia’s retreating car.
“Don’t worry, Everette. I will not go near your little human.” She shakes her head just a fraction. “At least, not while I’m this angry.”
“Will you have them killed?” I ask, because as much as she implied it earlier, I’m less certain that she will actually go through with it.
“You think I’m so soft-hearted that I won’t?”
“No. It’s not that. I’m just not sure you want to have two realms without reigning royals right now.”
“True. It would most likely be a mistake.” She doesn’t say anything for several minutes. “A rebellion. How unoriginal.”
“It happens,” I say with a shrug.
“Every few hundred years or so,” she agrees.
“But we quickly squash it,” I remind her.
“Hm. You don’t want Farah in Scotland.”
It’s not a question, but I still feel the need to answer her.
“No. I don’t. I want her with me. And I cannot have her in danger.”
She gives me an assessing look before nodding her head. “Very well.”
Just as I turn towards my room, she says, “I think you might consider changing her sooner rather than later. I fear no one is safe.”
I don’t say anything. I’m not ready to change Farah. But perhaps the Mother is right. If someone is attacking the reigning royals, it stands to reason that I’m most likely next. And that means Farah is in danger.
CHAPTER SIX
Farah
I’m shaking violently as I wait for Everette, cowering against his bedroom door. The house is quiet. Too quiet. I really hate this house. I hate its dark corridors. The expensive furniture and the portraits that seem to follow me.
But most of all, I hate the vampires.
I thought I disliked this house before this weekend, but I was wrong. Knowing that there are vampires downstairs, not just Everette and Jessamine, but someone else too, it puts everything into perspective.
My life is over. That’s what Everette told me. He said that my life as good as ended the moment he first saw me, first caught my scent in the rain. It’s almost funny. I’ve always loved vampire novels, but I never thought I’d end up living in one.
Before he sent me up here, demanding that I lock the door behind me, he had seemed almost scared. Everette doesn’t get scared though. He’s arrogant and regal. He’s condescending, but he’s never scared.
The Mother, that’s what he calls her, she scared him. She said something about Scotland, and it was like his face just shut down. He was definitely scared. But it’s difficult to imagine anything frightening enough to scare him.
He’s usually so determined, so uncompromising. But not today. Something is different and I don’t like it.
A heavy knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts. My heart pounds in my chest, my fingernails digging into the palm of my hands as I let out a tiny whimper. It’s easier to pretend that I’m not scared when I know that Everette believes he is in control.
I don’t know if he actually is, but it’s a nice thing to believe when he isn’t pissing me off.
“Farah, open the door.”
His voice isn’t gentle. It’s the same as it usually is. Demanding and expectant. And that fear that I was sure I heard earlier, the fear that I definitely saw in his eyes, I think it’s gone now.
I stumble to my feet and with a shaking hand, I unlock the door. He’s standing there, looking almost serene. I’ve barely stopped crying, my cheeks are practically raw, and he has the gal to stand there with that damn calm look on his face.
He moves so quickly that my eyesight blurs as he pushes past me into the room, closing the door behind him. His arms circle my waist, pulling me against him, and I feel myself crumple against him.
“It’s all okay,” he murmurs into my hair as he lifts me into the air. My legs wrap around him as I feel his arms tightening around me. It’s crazy the way I can feel so safe in his arms. Only seconds ago, I feared for my life, but now, in his arms I’m home.
I think I might have lost my marbles. There’s no other explanation for the way he makes me feel. He’s my murderer, or at least he will be, but I think I might love him. Lifting my face to meet his gaze, I search for something in his expression. I
don’t know what I’m looking for. A return of my feelings, perhaps? But all I see is the same thirst that I always see.
He wants me. He always wants me.
My hand on his cheek, it’s as if time stops as I pull his mouth to mine. The fluttering feeling in my gut that always seems to accompany his kisses intensifies, and I know that if he wasn’t carrying me, I topple off my feet.
His lips are addictively sweet as they move against mine.
“Everette,” I whisper against his mouth, pulling at his clothes. I have questions. I always have questions. Questions that will result in my death. But right now, I don’t care. I want to put all that fear and pain and bloody curiosity aside, even if it’s just for a few moments.
I pull his shirt up around his torso, revealing his perfect body. His body is hard to my touch. Unyielding. We fall back onto his bed just as I get his shirt over his head.
Straddling his lap, I grin down at him. I feel in control with him between my thighs. For the first time in weeks, I feel powerful instead of the weak human girl that has just been waiting to die.
His hypnotic smirk is back in place and he leans up so he can leave a trail of kisses down the length of my neck. He makes quick work of removing my top and bra, and my nipples tighten in anticipation of his touch. His fingers are drawing pretty patterns on my skin.
It’s excruciating, making my entire body tingle and ache for more.
Everette
It’s like being awoken from the longest sleep, having her back in my arms. She lets out a throaty moan as I draw circles around her nipple. Farah grinds down against my hips and I catch the glint in her eye.
She likes this. Being on top. Having control, even if it’s just fleeting.
I’m tempted to take it from her. Flip us over and take the control back. Except, I like that glint in her eye. Kissing Farah is always good. Her kisses slay. They disarm me. When I’m kissing her, I almost forget that she’s human. Or that I’m supposed to end her life at some point.
Removing our clothes is a little bit difficult with her in my lap, but my vampire reflexes come in handy occasionally. For just a fraction of a second, I raise her up off my lap so I can lift my hips enough to whip off my trousers and then hers.
Her eyes glaze over slightly in surprise when she finds herself back in my lap, her skin against mine. She looks down at her bare legs, her bottom lip between her teeth.
“That’s a neat party trick,” she murmurs.
“Being a Vampire certainly has its advantages.”
“You can say that again.” She’s giggling slightly, and it’s strangely healing. That sound is enough to make me forget all about the shitty morning I’ve had.
As if it’s even possible, she inches closer to me, wrapping her legs tighter around me. She reaches down between us, taking my dick in her hand so that she can guide it into her. She’s wet and hot around me as I slowly enter her.
I gave up on the concepts of heaven and hell centuries ago. On religion or God. But this, this feeling is as close to heaven as I can imagine ever getting. She’s perfection like this.
Thrusting up into her, I cling to her with a desperation that I’ve never felt before, not once in all the hundreds of years I’ve existed.
“Farah,” I whisper her name almost reverently.
There are tears in her eyes when she opens them. I kiss her tears away, all the whole wondering if I’m the reason for them. I’ve caused her nothing but trouble, intermingled with quite a lot of pleasure, I hope.
“You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
She doesn’t say anything, just whimpers softly in my ear as she pulls me closer, all the while pushing down further on my cock.
“I’ve got you. I’m never going to let anyone hurt you.” The words gush from my mouth like water. It’s a vow. A promise. And to my surprise, I mean every word. “I promise, no one will ever hurt you.”
Her eyes lock onto mine, and as always my little bookworm has a question she wants to ask.
“Even you?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Everette
Her question destroys me. A week ago, maybe even a few days ago, I would have laughed it off. Told myself that she was just being a human. But I can’t do that now.
Something is different, and I do not know what it is.
I want to promise her that I won’t hurt her, but I can’t do that. I don’t think there’s a creator, human or otherwise, alive that could make that promise. I gape at her like a bloody fish, struggling to find the right words. My brain failing me, perhaps for the first time since I became what I am.
Since I can’t make her a promise I know I’m going to break, I pull her lips back to mine and flip her onto her back. I don’t give her a chance to think about the fact that I’ve failed to give her the answer she wants as I pound into her.
Her eyes are wide and bright from her tears as she stares up at me unflinchingly. Her hands tighten against my shoulders, nails digging into my skin as her legs tangle with mine, rumpling the sheets beneath her.
I kiss her again, terrified that if I don’t, I’ll say something I shouldn’t. Something completely reckless like I love you. The words are on the tip of my tongue, even though I’m still not sure I even mean them.
“What are you doing to me?” I ask when I pull away from the searing hot kiss.
Like some glorious tempest, I can practically see waves of desire and pleasure crashing against her skin, rolling through her whole body as she clenches around me, her back arched, her lips parted to let out the tiniest of moans before she all but shatters beneath me. She’s never more human than she is when she orgasms.
Her eyes are closed now. I don’t stop moving as her orgasm continues to roll through her, now seeking my own release.
“What am I going to do with you?” I murmur against her ear.
Then words are lost to me, as I focus all my attention on the feel of her body against mine, her heat, her breath against my cheek. With one last thrust, I feel my own body spasm as I groan loudly.
For a few moments, neither of us move. Still inside her, I enjoy the feel of her beating heart against my chest. Rolling off her, I allow my hand to linger over her heart.
“This beats for us both,” I whisper, almost a sound of wonderment.
She gives me a strange look, and I know I’ve confused her yet again. She’s turning me into something I don’t recognise, and I can’t bring myself to care.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying anything else. I’m not ready to admit that I might feel more for her. That this might be more than lust or thirst.
“For now,” she replies, destroying the perfection of this moment.
For now… Yes, I guess she’s right. Her heart will have to stop beating, eventually.
“For now.” I nod.
Farah
“For now,” he agrees. The words are like a slap in the face. He says the sweetest things and then in a flash everything changes.
I force myself not to say anything as I sit up. He looks hesitant. Today has been a strange day. I’ve seen all sorts of feelings cross his perfect face. My stomach clenches and not in a good way as all the fear I’ve been shoving away returns.
He wants to say something, but I have no idea what because he doesn’t say anything. His hand circles my wrist as I try to pull away.
“Farah,” he says, “please don’t pull away from me.”
Everette sounds almost desperate. Like he’s actually scared I might leave. As if that’s actually an option. I say nothing. I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to him. My mind is full of contradictions. I want him, but I don’t want this… this world. His world.
The problem is, I don’t think I can have one without the other. And what’s worse is that his world and my world are one and the same.
“I love you.” The words come out in a hurry and I can barely believe I’m speaking them before they’re out of my mouth.
He look
s struck. Horrified. And I wonder if he never considered that eventually I’d come to feel something for him. Was that so very hard to believe? That I might care for him. Love him, even. His hand releases my wrist and this time it’s him trying to get away from me.
We’re a strange pair. Never close enough together. Never far enough apart.
The rejection bites, but the haunted look on his face gives me a bizarre sense of satisfaction. The immovable Everette has shown no end of cracks today. Today he’s been almost human.
“You can’t.”
“I do.”
“You’ll regret it.”
“I already do.” There’s very little point in lying to him. I regret ever meeting him. I regret ever stepping into this house. And I definitely regret loving him.
But I had no choice. He decided most of it. He caught my damn scent in the rain and decided he had to have me. He brought me here.
I don’t suppose I can blame him for making me love him. He’s certainly not done anything to encourage those sort of feelings. Except love me back.
Blinking up at him, I see it in his eyes now. He loves me. He hates that he does, but I know it’s true. He can’t hide it, not in this strange moment of vulnerability.
“I love you,” I say again, not that I know for the life of me why.
“You can’t. I’m going to kill you.”
“Yes.” I’ve long since accepted that fact.
“I’m a monster.” He sounds almost broken, his voice catching in his throat. And I wonder if he actually means it.
“No. You’re not.”
“You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about killing you,” he says, his eyes moving to the pulse point on my neck. “How I’ve craved it. Thirsted for it. I’ve imagined doing it a thousand ways.”
His words are harsh, perfectly mirroring the violence I see in his swirling eyes.
“Even now, my fangs are aching to bite you. Rip you flesh from flesh. Hurt you even.” He doesn’t sound apologetic. Far from it. It should scare me. “I’ve wanted to drink you dry. Drink every last drop, bring you so close to death that you see the fucking pearly gates, only to pull you back.”
THIRST (The Elite Book 3) Page 3
