by Ella Frank
Elias adamantly shook his head. “No. None of us… We aren’t supposed to die. This, what’s happening? It makes no sense.”
Paris scoffed at that. “No shit. But you may want to rethink that. Because, from where I’m standing, it looks like you and I are going to be filling the role of dead very soon.”
“No. You’re the last piece. Once it happens, which should be soon—it needs to be fucking soon—then everything will change.”
“Once what happens?”
Elias opened his mouth to respond, but before anything could be said, the door yawned open. The same colossal-sized vampire from earlier stepped inside and unlocked Elias’s chain.
“You. Come.”
Paris wanted to say something, but Elias shook his head.
As Elias was dragged out of the cell, he said, “Remember what I said about thinking.”
Paris nodded, the answer to that pretty fucking obvious: Don’t think at all.
Once the door had been shut behind them, Paris stood alone, wondering if he would ever see his friend again.
ELIAS WINCED AS the chain he was being led around by was yanked harder than necessary. He was positive that whatever was about to happen wasn’t going to be pleasant. Or pretty, for that matter.
The male who’d come to collect him was built like a brick shithouse and had the same temperament. He appeared unbending in every way, and when the big fucker stopped in front of two towering doors and removed the chain, Elias tried to push down the doubt that was intent on rearing its ugly head.
The tight cuffs remained fastened around his wrists, and considering what he knew these vampires were capable of, he was surprised that it was the only pain that had been inflicted.
As the guard, or whoever he was, walked around behind him, Elias waited for the doors to part so he could walk to his execution. He thought back to everything he’d been shown and told over the last decade and wondered where the fuck this all fell into their plans. His death had never been mentioned before. He was positive he would’ve remembered that.
You must trust in me, Elias Fontana.
As the authoritative voice entered his mind, the familiar, high-pitched melody of it had his erratic heartbeat slowing to a normal rhythm.
Just as you have thus far.
He wanted to trust in her, his goddess, his purpose. But blind faith was hard when no one believed you, and he couldn’t help but think, Is my death part of your plan? Or—
The groan of the heavy doors squelched any further thoughts he might have had as they swung open and the path to his destruction stretched out before him.
Shoved from behind, he stumbled and glared over his shoulder at the fucker responsible. He then steadied himself and took a deep breath. He believed in what he was doing, and that alone would get him through.
He walked into the massive hall and noted the difference from the place he’d been in yesterday. Unlike the empty chamber, the one from his dreams, this meeting place was full to capacity.
From floor to ceiling, each side was lined with stadium seating that held hundreds of bodies. Vampires of all ages, races, and genders stood to watch him, the human, be led to his death. Refusing to cower, as they no doubt expected, Elias straightened his spine and scanned the crowd with a confidence he sure as fuck didn’t feel.
The vile hiss of the enraged creatures filled the air, as fangs were revealed and hatred oozed from their pores over his audacity to show courage as he walked farther inside. They were watching him with rabid eyes, and the snarls let him know that each of them wished they could have a turn at ripping him apart limb from limb.
When he was brought to a standstill before three elaborate thrones, he knew that that honor would no doubt fall to the ones seated there. And yes, today, there were three.
Elias recognized the male at the center, the one he assumed was the leader. He was also the one Leonidas was in some kind of warped cohorts with. Vasilios was his name. The one to his left was Isadora’s Ancient, the one who’d thrown him to the ground the day before. And the third male, the one sitting to the right of the deceptively calm central figure, was the one who’d been missing yesterday. He appeared much younger than the other two.
Although he was dressed the same as his fellow vampires, his cheeks were hollowed in and his eyes were bleak. His hair was unkempt, and the growth around his chin was at least several days old. He looked drawn.
“Elias Fontana,” Vasilios said as he got to his feet.
Elias raised his eyes to meet the one who’d addressed him and waited.
“I cannot tell you how fascinating it is to have you here in our presence. The one who was able to overpower two of our oldest and most cherished members.”
If this bastard thought Elias would let him talk him to death before actually killing him, he had another thing coming.
“And yet I’m underwhelmed by yours,” he said. “Amazing how we can still be shocked right up until our final moments, isn’t it?”
A collective gasp rose in the hall, and the vampire he’d addressed raised a hand, silencing the crowd. As the murmurs ceased, Vasilios flicked his wrist and a loud crack echoed off the walls. A shout tore out of Elias. His left index finger had been snapped like a twig.
“It is interesting, don’t you think?” Vasilios mused. “That you are so courageous—”
“Yes,” Elias interrupted, clasping his wounded hand to his chest. He refused to bend before this arrogant fuck. “I suppose it is. How dare I address the almighty Vasilios. Am I right?”
The male’s eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. That was the only physical sign of agitation he gave before he spoke again. “I was trying to be cordial, Mr. Fontana. Though do not ask me why when I have never cared in the past. I wonder if you will be so brave when writhing around on the floor in agony?”
As the question was issued, it felt as though a fist had clamped around his trachea, and the air to his lungs was cut off as effectively as someone bending a garden hose. He choked and sputtered, and the veins in his neck protruded as he gasped for breath.
“Vasilios!” Leo shouted.
An ominous growl reverberated from the vampire who held center stage as he instructed, “Keep a muzzle on him, Alasdair.”
Elias let his throbbing hand go and brought his fingers up to his throat. His eyes bulged as they watered, and he struggled again for air. He’d heard Leo’s voice as he’d called out to the one conducting the entertainment this evening, but he didn’t have the energy to find him. Instead, he forced his eyes to stay fixed on Vasilios who was strolling down the stairs towards him.
“As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, perhaps it’s your misguided belief of what you are that has you so courageous.”
Fuck, keep it together, Fontana, he told himself as the male took one more step, bringing them practically nose-to-nose. The eerie, black eyes that held Elias ensnared didn’t flinch as dizziness, from lack of oxygen, made his head start to spin. The male’s features were close to perfect, his scrutiny fierce as he inspected every inch of his face.
Elias forced himself to search the crowd for the man he’d once called his friend, and there, seated beside the asshole Alasdair, who had a hand clamped over his mouth, was Leo.
Apparently, it didn’t matter to them as to who or what Leo was, because if they knew about him, then they must’ve worked out by now that Leo was the same. But his friend was wearing some kind of robe the color of black and gold, and as he squirmed in the seat, the material shimmered as light caught it.
Silk. Of course. There would be nothing but the best for this bunch. They thrived on feeding their every pleasure. No matter the monetary cost or, in his case, the life lost.
As he caught Leo’s eyes, the ache of betrayal ran deep within his bones, and he trembled under the force of it. The bleak grimace marring Leo’s face didn’t tell him a whole hell of a lot, either. However, the way he struggled and pulled away from the vampire next to him did.
Maybe this isn’t over just yet.
“Do not look at him, Mr. Fontana,” Vasilios purred in his ear. “He is mine now to do with as I see fit. And in here,” he said, reaching for his chin and turning his face, “you will keep your eyes on me. You see, I heard something very interesting about you today. And Leonidas has no clue what I am speaking of, does he? In fact, if what you believe is true, then I have acquired myself quite the clueless little plaything, haven’t I?”
Elias’s eyes zeroed in on the one taunting him, and when Vasilios shifted to place his lips by his ear, Elias shuddered.
“I think it’s time to tell him, don’t you?”
When the vampire stepped back, the grip around his throat released and Elias gasped for air. While gulping down swallow after swallow of much-needed oxygen, he coughed as he continued to watch the male opposite him. The guy was fucking hypnotizing. Even as Elias stood there trying to remember how to breathe, he was finding it difficult to resist the fucker’s charm and tell him to go to hell.
“Tell him what?” he finally managed.
Vasilios’s lips curved as he glanced over to where Leo was watching the two of them with wide-eyed panic that bordered on horror. “Why, tell him what you believe you are, of course. What you believe he is. Actually, no,” he said, raising a hand to stop him. “I think a demonstration would be much more effective. After all, shouldn’t a demigod be able to free himself from two measly little cuffs? Or how about heal your broken bone?”
The quiet buzz of speculation rose from the stands, and Leo’s eyes rounded until they looked as though they would fall out of his head.
“See? Even he finds that difficult to believe. Proof would really help your case at this stage. Perhaps you could overthrow this room and vanish? That would be a glorious start,” Vasilios announced as he turned away from him to walk back up the stairs.
“The proof is right in front of you,” Elias said, daring to speak.
The vampire stopped on the final step and pivoted back to face him.
“You can’t stay away from him, can you? And you just said that you weren’t sure why, but you were trying to be kind to me. It’s because of him. You want to please him.” He laughed and knew he sounded demented, and then he cut his eyes to the silent Diomêdês. “And you. You can’t take your eyes off me, can you? Even now while Isadora hides behind your chair, wanting to come out and see me, you can’t stop staring at me and wanting…something, hmm? Tell me. Do you think a normal being, that mere humans would have such a pull over all of you and your first-sired?”
As a frenzied uproar filled the hall, a spike of adrenaline rushed through him, diminishing the pain in his hand. He’d planted a seed of doubt in this horde waiting for him to die.
Had they been tricked? Were they all now to perish because their oh-so-wise ones were infatuated with these pesky humans?
It was almost laughable how concerned they all were. There. Let them talk their way out of that. Pompous pricks.
In the whirl of chaos, Diomêdês was in front of him in the blink of an eye and had his chin in a punishing grip. The hall had once again gone deathly silent as if fearful of this vampire’s wrath.
“Where are you from, Elias Fontana? Why have they sent you? Tell me.”
Elias closed his eyes and let the intoxicating feeling of euphoria overtake him as the confusion in the vampire’s voice electrified him.
“Speak.”
Elias opened his eyes and remained silent as he gazed into the interesting face studying him.
“You have been brought here to die. Do you not understand? One flick of my wrist and you will be dead. Why do you stay silent when I hold your life in my hand?”
Elias licked his lower lip, and the male’s eyes fell to it. Then he thought loud enough so Diomêdês could hear, Yes, the draw is powerful. You don’t even like men…yet you can’t tear your eyes away from me.
The hold on his jaw intensified to the point that he’d have bruises if he survived. Then he managed to get out, “You hold nothing but my body in your hands. Your power, all of it, comes from those I descend from.” His eyes then shifted to find Leo as he said, “Everything leading up to here and beyond is fixed. You can’t change it.”
“You are a fool to not try to save yourself.“
“What would be the point?” Elias asked as his eyes came back to Diomêdês, and he gave a twisted grimace. “Where is she? If I am to die, then let it be her who lands the final blow.”
“Many deserve to give the final blow that will take you out, human.” The pale one holding him angled his head slightly to the young male on the right of the raised stage. “Eton?”
The male seated upon the throne looked him over with so much hatred that Elias was surprised he didn’t wither and die where he was being held.
“Give him to Isadora. She has the energy to do my Thanos justice. I would prefer to watch his suffering.”
Now Elias knew who this vampire was. The Ancient of the one he’d daggered at his office. The satisfaction of that win was a high he hadn’t experienced before. But witnessing the one who appeared to be in some state of mourning had his guilt creeping in the cracks of his splintering resolve.
“Isadora.” Diomêdês summoned his first-sired to the forefront.
And that was when it happened. Isadora Nikitas walked across the dais in the sexiest boots he’d ever laid eyes on, and everything changed.
Leather, tight, and spiked, the boots gloved her entire leg to midthigh. They probably could have been used to stab him in the heart, and considering he was pretty much hers to do with as she pleased, the idea was probably crossing her mind.
The black jacket that molded to every phenomenal curve of her body was fastened by brass buttons that started above her left breast and dissected her bodice in a diagonal line to the waist, where the material was cinched. But, unlike the men, whose jackets were short and tailored to match their dress pants, hers flowed dramatically behind her to the floor like a cape and showcased the slickest pair of black leather pants he’d ever seen.
Her hair flowed in beautiful, raven waves over her shoulders, and as her eyes found his, Elias’s one and only thought was that this was his true goddess, and his angel of death was fucking breathtaking.
HE LOOKED TERRIBLE. That was her first thought as she made her way down the stairs to where Diomêdês was standing. Her second was, He is perfect.
Elias’s face may have been twisted from the pain he was experiencing, but when his eyes locked with hers, the connection between them radiated deep within her soul.
The weight of their entire species was on her shoulders as she came to a standstill by her sire. This was it. This was her moment of revenge. He was handing it to her, allowing her to strike a blow and prove her position as she avenged Thanos, who Eton was still too weak to avenge himself. But, as she stared at Elias, his jet black hair now threaded with hints of silver, her conviction wavered. She’d run her hands through that hair. Held on to it when he’d thrust into her body and told her that he wanted to live and die inside her. And the memory of that made it hard to do what she must.
What is it, my Isa? Diomêdês pushed into her mind. Tell me what you need.
She thought about that for a second and then reached for Elias’s hand, the one with the broken finger. As Isadora tightened her grip around the shattered phalange, a howl of pain left Elias’s mouth. Then she turned to her Ancient and gave a slow, malicious sneer.
“I want what he had. Hours,” she hissed, and when she applied more pressure, Elias’s silver eyes flared.
There, simmering within, was a fire borne of contempt, lust…and something else she couldn’t pinpoint.
“I want hours to tear, torture, and torment him. Just as he did me.”
Diomêdês’s pride poured off him as he asked, “And then?”
Isadora licked her lips as the power coursing through her and the approval of those watching her ignited the desire to feed, fuck, and fight. “Then I will lan
d the final blow.” With that, she pulled Elias in close and fisted her other fingers in his shirt front as she vowed, “By the time I am done with you, you’ll wish you were dead.”
With stubbornness she assumed was borne from misplaced faith and determination, he replied, “Maybe. But I won’t be.”
Her fury and her indignation rose, and as she angled her head to run her tongue along the shell of his ear, salt hit her taste buds and she had to remind herself what her purpose was. “I will never understand why you had to be so cruel. One thing I do know: I cannot help you. You will die, and for what?”
When Elias brought his face around to hers, her lips parted at the unrestrained love swirling in their depths. “For loving the wrong woman.”
As the words fell from his lips, he looked as shell-shocked as she felt, and before she thought better of it, she faded them from the hall.
PARIS SAT ON the narrow bench against the far wall of the cell and cursed when he bit the quick of his thumbnail. He pulled his hand away from his mouth and jammed it under his thigh as it continued to bounce up and down in a nervous jig.
It felt as if Elias had been taken a long time ago. That could’ve been his mind playing tricks on him though. As it was, he was pretty fucking sure he was close to being certifiable.
He stood, about to go to the door and try banging on it again, when it was shoved open and filled with the silhouette of the huge-ass vampire from before—but no Elias.
Shit, oh shit. Where is he? Dead?
When the vampire moved inside, Paris backed the fuck up and his legs bumped the bench. As his ass hit the surface, the guy reached for the chain and unlocked it. Then he kept coming. Paris’s heart sped up, and his eyes blurred. When he brought his hands to the center of his forehead to steady himself, a dull thud started in his head.
At first, he thought it was the blood making his ears ring, but as the vampire got closer and his anxiety rose, the sound became so loud that it was as if he were standing next to the bass speaker at a concert.
He lowered his arms to halt the vampire. “Wait,” he said, wanting to buy himself some time.
