by Ella Frank
Contents
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
ALSO BY ELLA FRANK
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
COMING SOON
SPECIAL THANKS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Copyright © 2016 by Ella Frank
www.ellafrank.com
Edited by Mickey Reed
Cover Design © By Hang Le
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Also by Ella Frank
The Exquisite Series
Exquisite
Entice
Edible
The Temptation Series M/M
Try
Take
Trust
Masters Among Monsters Series
Alasdair
Standalones
Blind Obsession
Veiled Innocence
A Desperate Man Series
Co-authored with Brooke Blaine
A Desperate Man: The Complete Series
Neda’s Waterfall - 31 BC
GO. YOU MUST go now…
Isadora Nikitas winced as her bare feet dug into the jagged rocks, those words repeating over and over in her mind. Her breathing was choppy as she curled her fingers around one of the boulders to haul herself out of the water. When it pierced through the flesh of her palm, she bit her bottom lip to keep quiet, refusing to make her location known.
The sun was starting to set, casting a crimson hue over everything the fading light touched. In the distance, anguished cries of the one she’d left behind—Daphne—could be heard.
When she paused to look over her shoulder at the woman she’d known her entire life, her breath caught. A man much larger than they were was dragging Daphne from the water. But, instead of screaming for him to stop, she scratched and kicked at him, brave as always.
It was in that moment that Isadora reversed course, determined to go back and help Daphne, whom she’d been parted from in their haste to leave. Several loose rocks splashed into the water, and as she hurried back to the barbaric scene, her eyes met with Daphne’s, the message in them clear.
Run. Run before he comes for you too.
Isadora looked at the man, barely recognizing him even though she had known him since birth. Dimitri—her own brother. And he was in a rage. His fingers were snarled in Daphne’s blond hair, and his voice was murderous as it echoed around the ravine.
“Pórni̱! Whore!” he barked as Daphne’s chiton, weighted down by the water, fell from her hips.
Isadora pushed through the swirling currents, her tangled skirts impeding her speed. When she finally made it to the bank, she crouched down to pick a rock up.
Daphne stumbled backwards as Dimitri hauled her farther from the water, and then she tripped over the chiton and he brought her to a standstill. She reached for the fingers ensnared in her hair and cried out again when he roughly angled her head back towards him.
Isadora’s breath left her on a rush as she watched Dimitri remove a dagger from the leather strap at his waist. No. There’s no way he’s going to hurt her. But as she watched the horror unfold, Isadora knew she was wrong. Her brother wasn’t going to hurt Daphne—he was going to kill her.
Without hesitation, she hurled the rock as hard as she could, hoping to cause damage. But she was too far away, and when it landed against her brother’s arm with a dull thump and fell to the ground, she knew that nothing was going to save them from his wrath now.
He slowly brought his eyes up and pinned her in place. Her feet were ankle-deep in the water as he brought the dagger up beneath Daphne’s chin. Isadora could see Daphne’s lower lip quivering, but instead of pleading with her fiancé for her life, her eyes found Isadora’s and she shouted, “Always burn brightly, my Isa! Ego zo kai petheno mesa sti floga sou! Now, go! You must go now!”
I live and die inside your flame. Those words caused her heart to break in two, and Isadora was torn between fleeing and racing over to free Daphne. That’s when a grin ripe with evil twisted Dimitri’s lips. Then he drew the blade across Daphne’s pale throat, spilling her blood without a care for the woman he’d just ended, and Isadora let free a mortified scream.
Tears streamed over her cheeks as she staggered backwards into the water and her brother dumped Daphne’s twitching body to the ground. She had no time to grieve, but all she wanted to do was collapse in a heap and mourn what she had lost.
When her brother stepped over Daphne as if she were no more than a washed-up log, Isadora ordered herself to move. She could grieve later, but right now, she had to move. Otherwise, she would share the same fate as Daphne, whose blood was running in rivulets through the dirt.
Diving under the cool surface, she swam for her life, making it across the gorge in record time before hauling herself out of the water. She dug her knees into the hard shale of the rocks and cringed as she climbed and clawed her way over the highest peak. When she got her feet under her upon the grassy top, a splash of water met her ears as her brother pulled himself out of the ravine and started up the same path she’d taken.
As the sun set and the eerie darkness of night enveloped her, Isadora tugged her wet skirts up so she could make a run for it. Her feet carried her through the dense foliage spread out before her, and the cracking of branches gave her away with every step she took.
She cursed, yet she had no other choice than to continue. Either that or lie down and die. As she pushed a large branch out of her way, the tall reeds sprouting from the ground brushed her calves. Leaves smacked her chin and cheeks, and she shut her eyes to protect them. If she could find something to hide behind, then maybe she would stand a chance. That thought soon vanished, however, when a large hand clamped down onto her arm.
Pulled to the left, she swung her free arm out in an effort to hit her assailant. Thinking it was Dimitri, she let out a scream of terror—until a palm clapped over her mouth and a person by her ear said, “I am here to save you. Stop fighting me.”
She couldn’t stop the air bursting from her mouth in pants as panic from her known stalker turned into fear of her unknown attacker.
As if the man behind her had read her mind, he whispered, “I will not harm you. You need not fear me. But you must trust me. And you must do it now.”
Her heart was hammering beneath her breastbone, and she knew she didn’t have much of a choice. She breathlessly replied, “Se empistevome. I trust you.”
The next thing she knew, everything faded, and she woke up somewhere else entirely.
Present Day—Elias’s off
ice
BETRAYAL. THE KIND that broke and violated one’s confidence. Isadora remembered it all too well. And it was currently clawing its way free of the vault-like hole she’d shoved her humanity into the night Diomêdês had turned her.
She tried to pry her eyes open, but the task seemed close to impossible. They were heavy as lead. Clenching her fists atop the arms of the chair she was bound to, she forced her lids to part the tiniest of cracks, and the low light from the lamp on Elias’s desk made her wince.
Elias Fontana—that bastard. How long had it been since he’d left her alone in his office? Ten minutes? Thirty? An hour? She’d tried counting the infernal ticking of the clock as she’d drifted in and out of consciousness, trying to use it as an anchor to keep her alert. It had been no use though. The poison from the silver filigree in the chair had seeped through the pores of her skin, and its venom had caused a fiery trail throughout her veins.
She’d tried to convince herself that she would find a way out of her current situation. That she would break free and hunt Elias down like the no-good dog he was. But, as time ticked on by, she was more than aware that that possibility was becoming less likely.
Isadora…
Isadora lifted her head and tried to open her eyes in earnest.
Isadora…
She heard her name again as if it were drifting all around her, attempting to make its way into her subconscious yet not quite getting there.
Where are you, ómorfo mou koritsi?
Diomêdês. Her Ancient. The one who’d given her eternal life. He was summoning her—a summons she was not to ignore.
Forcing her eyes to obey her command, they fully opened this time, and she winced from the strain of it. The poison had made it to her eyes, and it stung as if someone had thrown acid in them. Once they had adjusted to the burn, the door behind her opened.
She tried to focus on her surroundings as the blurry figure of a man walked around her and across the office floor. Lounging back against a heavy, wooden desk, he crossed his arms and eyed her.
Elias—he’d returned from wherever he’d disappeared to.
The force of attempting to raise an arm and break free slammed into her and she slumped back against the chair. Then, right before she passed out, she could’ve sworn she heard her name again. Only she wasn’t sure if it had been a summons from her maker or if it had been from the one who now claimed to be her master.
ELIAS STARED DOWN at the woman—no, vampire—bound to his office chair.
For the past several hours, he’d told himself that what he was doing was right. That this was his calling—what he’d been created for. Even though, somewhere in the pit of his stomach, it felt…wrong.
Seeing Isadora suffer didn’t feel as right as he’d thought it would. But, then again, he’d never expected to know the one he was supposed to end.
That little tidbit was left out of my fucking life prophecy, wasn’t it?
Over the last few hours, as the life—or whatever they have—drained out of her, he found himself wanting to set her free. Her color had turned from that lovely porcelain hue he’d once loved seeing splayed across his sheets to a ghastly grey, and her eyes appeared as though they’d sunken into her head. Shadows surrounded them now. Not the light-blueish shadows one usually gets when they haven’t slept in days, but dark, nasty-looking blemishes—as if he’d punched her. And, in a sense, he had, hadn’t he?
Not only had he taken her prisoner, he’d stabbed someone she knew in the throat and left him for dead. All so he could get some fucking answers before he completed the task given to him.
Was that really the truth though? He wasn’t even sure. Because, if it were, wouldn’t he have already ended this?
Earlier, he’d gone in search of Leo to try to mend the broken fences between them after their disastrous morning meeting. What he hadn’t expected was for the man’s office door to have been opened by Isadora Nikitas.
It was hard to believe that it’d been nearly eleven years since they’d parted—and not much longer since they’d begun. But that was exactly how long it had been.
Back then, he’d been naïve enough to believe they’d felt the same for one another. For six months, she’d been the axis of his world. He’d done everything he could to free up the hours, minutes—hell, even seconds—to see her. If he were honest, though, it had always felt as though they’d stolen their time together. There were hurried nights, days apart, but he was led to believe that it was due to both of their demanding careers, which were just beginning. He was a university teacher, and she was midway through her medical internship at the local hospital.
Well, that is until she unexpectedly got transferred and practically disappeared overnight. What a nice little lie that had been, Elias thought with a sneer.
Her disappearance from his life had been as abrupt as her arrival in it. But her reappearance now was like a physical blow, one he hadn’t yet recovered from.
Since she was as stunning as when they’d first met, Elias had immediately wanted to reach out and see if she was real. That was before everything had fallen the fuck apart. When the hair on his arms had risen, his spine had begun to tingle and his eyes… They’d seemed to film over. That was when he’d seen her for the monster she really was.
Damn her, he thought as he inspected the woman whose black hair was hanging like a curtain from her bowed head to her knees. Damn her for being the one he could never forget. And the one he was destined to destroy.
ISADORA…
THERE IT was again. Diomêdês calling for her. And just like earlier, there was no way she could go. She briefly wondered what Elias was scheming since he hadn’t yet killed her, but with her head pounding, she gave up on thinking at all. No matter what he thought he was going to accomplish, the fact that he’d kept her alive told her one thing.
He had a weakness and she was it.
With a groan she raised her head, and when she managed to get her chin in the air, her hair fell back from her face and she saw the man who’d once forced his way into her lifeless heart. He was seated behind his desk, looking her over with conflicted, silver eyes. But, when hers met them, they hardened as if he’d reminded himself of his true mission. One where he didn’t doubt himself, where he knew his role.
That of the enemy.
“It’s true, then, what the legends say…”
Isadora didn’t even have the energy to ask what he was talking about.
“That silver will kill you over hours, but it’s instant if your heart is removed from your chest or your head is on the floor. Considering your kind pays little heed to what your brain tells you, it really makes me wonder if you even possess a heart.”
Elias was doing a damn good job with the intimidation tactics as he curled his fingers into tight fists. She, however, would not be intimidated—not by him. Instead, she narrowed her eyes on the self-righteous ass and wondered where his low opinion of her actually came from. He hadn’t been this way when they’d first met.
She licked her cracked lips and forced out, “Is this where you expect me to beg for my freedom? Beg for my life, Elias?”
As he got to his feet, she kept vigilant eyes on him. Once he’d walked over towards her, he leaned down until they were only inches apart and gave her a smile so full of malice that it reminded her of…Diomêdês.
Yes, the arrogance and confidence in that expression was exactly the kind she had seen many times over in her sire—right before a kill.
Then Elias said something that had the fight blazing back to life inside her.
“No, Isadora. I want you to beg for his. Though I’m not sure you care enough about anyone beyond yourself to do that, do you?”
She knew exactly who he meant. He’d said it once before, but she wasn’t leaving this twisted mindfuck up to chance.
“Who?”
Elias straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t play coy. It doesn’t suit you. You know, I always wondered when we were t
ogether if there was someone else. Your job, yes—that was a good excuse to always be gone back in the day. Something demanding, for sure. Especially the hours you kept. But not letting me bring you lunch or come and pick you up because you had a dictator for a boss? Well, that’s all starting to make sense now. Isn’t it? Tell me. What would your precious sire have done if he’d known you were fucking me at every opportunity you could get? I suppose not much, since your kind is incapable of any sort of emotional connection.”
She hissed and struggled to push up out of the chair. When she remained in the same frustrating position she started in, she said, “Fuck you. You have no idea what you speak of.”
As he uncrossed his arms, she shrank back into the seat. Then he gripped her chin, and as he tilted her face up, his eyes dropped to the pendant fastened around her neck. Abruptly, he released her and ran his fingers over the golden rose. The one he’d given her three months into their relationship.
“You kept this. Why?”
She stubbornly kept her mouth shut as she continued to glare up at him. “I told you. You know not what you speak of.”
His lips twisted as he took a step back and shook his head. “Ahh, but there’s the catch. I do know what I’m talking about now. I know all about you, Isadora.”
“You’re sick,” she spat out at him, but it was no use.
He was determined. Determined to fulfill whatever fucked-up plight he was on.
“No, Isadora. Not sick. Just as you have a driving instinct to kill any and all humans, I’m merely doing what I was born to.”
“And what’s that?”
“Eliminate you,” he said in an icy tone.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her mind to continue to function. “You’re so angry,” she said, mourning the loss of the man she’d once known. “You weren’t like that when we first met. Who made you that way?” If she was to die here at the hands of this man, she wanted to know why he hated her—and kill whoever had made it so. “Is it because you feel betrayed, Elias? Do you really think you are the first person to ever be deceived? To be disappointed by someone?”
