by Ella Frank
With him, with Daphne, any which way, Isadora was a free spirit. One he’d never had a hope of extinguishing. It was better that it ended this way. That he be the one to be killed. He wasn’t sure if asked by the one who’d created him if he would be able to end her.
He’d tried to fulfill his destiny, but as he lay above this gorgeous creature giving herself so freely, he knew he’d never have been able to go through with it.
Elias blinked, clearing the fog from his lust-addled mind. “Yes, fuck yes.” He lowered over her as her legs wound around his waist, and then he put his mouth to her ear. “You two were so damn beautiful together. The love, the passion. I’ve been a part of some wild shit in my days, but I’ve never seen two as unbelievably erotic as you.”
“Wait,” Isadora said as she shoved him up and zeroed in on his face.
He tilted his head to the side, waiting for whatever she was about to say, but she just stared at him. If he had just seen her as she really was, it appeared his true nature had just been revealed.
“You like wild shit? What does that mean? You like to watch or…”
Elias was done talking, so he held her down and shoved his cock inside. When she cried out and her lips parted, revealing her gleaming fangs, he admitted, “I like many things. I’ve enjoyed giving instructions at times. But I must admit, I prefer to participate. Although that was a long time ago.”
When Isadora gripped his hair and yanked his head up, Elias raised an eyebrow. “You can’t be shocked by that.”
“Why can’t I? You never mentioned it in the past. You always seemed so upstanding, so traditional, Mr. Fontana.”
“And you always seemed straight. You never once mentioned Daphne.”
Ignoring that, she asked, “So, three in a bed does not bother you?”
When his hips thrust hard against hers, he was pretty sure she could ascertain the answer to that. Plus, something more pressing was on his mind.
“Why do you think of this place as hell, Isadora?”
She shut her eyes, blocking his question out as he continued to move above her. Her nails scored his back, and when one of them pierced his flesh, he cursed and she ripped her hand away to stare at it. Over the tip of her finger, like melted wax, was shiny, melted silver.
Holy fuck. What was that? My…blood? He grabbed her hand and peeled it off before it could truly harm her.
Her eyes were wide, and her lips parted like she was about to speak, so he pistoned his cock in and out of her to distract her from what had just happened. He trapped her arms over her head, and as she arched up against him, she whispered, “I’ll answer you if you answer me. Three in a bed?”
The thought of being part of a threesome with Isadora pushed his orgasm to the brink.
“Interesting. I don’t think death is the answer for you after all, Elias Fontana.”
As his name fell off her tongue, his cock jerked and that was it. His muscles tensed as her cunt squeezed him hard, and then he poured himself into her.
When the high of losing himself inside her dissipated, he whispered into the night, “Now, you answer me. Why did you bring me here? Why is this place hell?”
“Because, shortly after what you just saw, my brother found us.”
Elias looked down at her with a frown, but before he could speak, she continued.
“This is where the ones I love come to die. That is all you need to know.”
That was the last thing he remembered because Isadora Nikitas knocked him out cold.
PARIS DIDN’T KNOW where the hell he was going. All he knew was that he needed to run and run fucking fast.
When he’d stepped out of the cell and into an empty corridor, he hadn’t stopped to ask where everyone was. He’d just bolted. Like a gazelle fleeing for its life, he’d sprinted down the first corridor then turned onto a second, and as he searched for a door, he became more and more frustrated that there weren’t any.
Are there no fucking rooms in this place other than the one I was in? Then he made another turn to the left, and there, lining each side of the hallway, he counted over a dozen doors. What the hell…
He slowed his gait to a cautious pace as he plastered his back to the wall closest to him. The only sound he could hear was his harsh breathing in the deserted hall. Candelabras were secured between each door, but none of the candles were lit except for the one at the very end. With a glance to his left and his right, he decided that it was now or never and made his way down to grab the lit candle from the holder.
When it was in his grasp, Paris twisted the handle of the door in front of him, hoping that it was unlocked. When the door opened and all he could see were shadows, he crept inside to hide before shutting the door behind him.
He raised the torch, trying to see his surroundings, but just as his eyes began to adjust, the flame was extinguished and he was plunged into completed darkness.
What the… His heart was hammering so hard that he pressed a hand against his sternum. Jesus, it’s so dark in here. How am I going to get out now? he thought as he scanned the room. He could barely see two inches in front of him. When he took a step to the left, his leg bumped into something that scraped across the floor and he froze and sucked in a quick breath.
“Who are you?”
The question that came from across the room was such a shock that it had Paris stumbling back until his ass and his shoulders hit a wall. He clamped a hand over his mouth and willed himself to keep quiet as he frantically searched the darkness, trying to find the source of the question. But he could see nothing, and before he knew it, a body as hard as the wall at his back was pressed flush against his front. A large hand came down over the one he had covering his mouth, and when a rush of warm air ghosted over his ear, gooseflesh covered Paris’s body and apprehension crept up his spine.
“How interesting. I don’t believe we have met.” The voice was controlled, calculating, and when Paris tried to turn his head to see the face by his cheek, the male voice said, “Do not look at me. Your eyes stay forward if you wish to keep them in your head.”
That was when he felt true fear. Paris blinked several times. Probably because the idea of having his eyes gouged out made him want to remind himself that they were still there. Several strands of hair brushed over his cheek, and for a crazy second, he wondered what color they were.
“You are human. One I do not know. Someone’s new yielding, I presume?” When Paris remained silent, he added, “Or maybe not.” Then the pressure against him vanished.
Paris dropped his hand and blindly reached out in front of him, but nothing was there.
“I am over here.”
The voice came from his right, and Paris spun in that direction, but it was pointless. Again, all he saw was darkness. He edged his way along the wall, hoping to make it to the door when the voice spoke again.
“Do not attempt to leave. It will not end pleasantly for you. I suggest you take a seat over there by that table. For now, you stay.”
THANOS CROUCHED IN the corner of his bedchambers and watched as the young man with the long dark hair stumbled to the table and chair. He was wearing boots, jeans, and a T-shirt that had seen better days, and when he sat his ass in the seat, Thanos crossed his arms over his knees and studied him.
Luckily for the both of them, a human’s eyesight was worth shit in the dark. Otherwise, the man sitting only feet away would have been screaming the lair down.
There had been a time when he would’ve kept the candle lit, but that time had passed. He’d resigned himself to living in the shadows from there on out. Confining himself to his chambers and only permitting Eton after much persuasion, and only then because he knew what the damage a total break for them would mean.
As it was, it felt as though there were a gaping hole between him and his Ancient. A canyon neither of them were able to cross. They could see one another but couldn’t quite connect—not like they always had.
He knew Eton’s reasons behind what he had don
e, but how he could’ve condemned him to such a cruel existence, he would never understand. He never would have done that to him. He would have freed him, would’ve let him go, even if the cost were his own life.
That was the way of their relationship though. It always had been. He’d been the stronger of the two from the very beginning. The dominant, even though Eton’s age made him more powerful.
Thanos remembered the night Eton had found him. He’d had only one request. That Thanos be the master of their combined fate. That he keep him from hurting others, including himself. Now, he couldn’t even stand the thought of Eton looking at him. Let alone wielding any kind of control over the male as he once had.
He’d seen the way his sire had flinched when he’d visited him the day before, and the idea that the one he would lay his life down for now thought him heinous was abhorrent. The only way he saw himself surviving that kind of pain was not to see him at all.
So maybe it was time to try something new. Try a different kind of friendship with someone new. Someone who hadn’t known him before he’d turned into this monster.
Yes, this human will do just fine. For now.
LEO SAT ON the stairs of the Assembly Hall with his robe wrapped tight around his waist. He’d been sitting there ever since all hell had broken loose and everyone had scattered.
Neither Vasilios nor Alasdair had returned for him, and he hadn’t been summoned anywhere. So he’d thought his safest course of action was to stay put.
He fingered the silky lapel covering his knee and shut his eyes. God, what the fuck is going on? Elias had some misguided notion that they were…demigods. Gods? Yeah, right.
If they were so almighty, how had the three of them ended up in a fucking vampire lair? Not to mention at the mercy of those vampires. He could still hear Elias’s shout of pain as Vasilios had snapped his bone in half.
This whole fucked-up situation was his fault. He had done this to them. Brought them there thinking that…what? Vasilios could be tamed? He was insane if he thought that was an option.
He dropped his head forward into his palms but then jerked his head up and stared at them as if they would burn him. Hell, at this stage, who knew? Maybe they would.
If he were to believe what Elias, Vasilios, and Alasdair had said and he was descended from—Jesus, just saying it makes me feel moronic—Apollo, then it would stand to reason that what had happened earlier was due to some connection with the sun.
Alasdair had said that they couldn’t appear in direct daylight, and now, thanks to Vasilios’s little flashback, Leo knew why. It really did harm them. It burned them like flames from a fire would burn him, and apparently, he could blast sunrays from his hands.
Awesome.
So, what happened next? He had no idea. But didn’t it make sense that, if he was designed to kill these vampires, they would want him eliminated?
He needed to talk to them. Make them see that he didn’t want to hurt anyone. He was just one person up against, well, all of them.
Demigod Leonidas, you are not a person. You are my direct descendant.
Leo looked up to the roof of the hall, and when that voice from his visions chuckled, he got to his feet. “I’m glad you’re having a fucking good time.”
Well, it is quite amusing. You see, they think they know. He believes he understands. How wrong he is.
Leo marched down the stairs and shouted as loudly as he could, “Stop playing games!”
Who’s playing games? Me or the one who has changed you? Perhaps you should ask him. You had a purpose. A calling. And now—
“Fuck your purpose!”
“Leonidas?”
Leo spun around and found Vasilios standing in the center of the raised stage.
“Whom are you talking to, agóri?”
Sick of being played with and bossed around, Leo stubbornly crossed his arms and kept his mouth shut.
Vasilios frowned as he started down the stairs. “Let me make this very clear. If I ask you a question, you will answer me.” When he stopped and clasped his hands behind his back, he asked again, “Whom are you talking to?”
Shifting from one foot to the other, Leo dared to ask, “If I tell you, will you take me to Elias?”
“No.”
“Why are you being so—”
“What?” Vasilios asked. “What am I being?”
Leo turned away from him. He needed to think, which was close to impossible around Vasilios. When firm hands cupped his arms, Leo shuddered.
“A monster?”
Leo shook his head. “No. I don’t really think that. I was angry. I mean, did you have to break his finger?”
Vasilios spun him around so fast that Leo’s head rattled. “Yes, Leonidas. Don’t you understand? I cannot show favoritism. I cannot show you kindness. I rule all vampires. What I say is law. I am what stands between there being a controlled horde or a savage one.”
Leo had to wonder what it cost Vasilios to explain his actions. He knew he wasn’t one to answer to anyone. Alasdair had warned him of that. But, as they stood face-to-face, he felt that perhaps this was Vasilios’s way of showing some kindness. So he relented.
“Alasdair is mad at me.”
Vasilios’s eyebrow rose as if shocked, and then he laughed. “Is he now?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Because you almost melted his pretty face off? That’s enough to upset anyone, don’t you think?”
Leo’s lips twitched. He was flabbergasted by the conversation they were having. “Well, it’s not like I meant to do it. But I think he’s more concerned with you and me than his pretty face.”
Vasilios’s eyes narrowed as a pensive look crossed his handsome features, and then it disappeared as quickly as it had come. “Both he and I know you did not mean what you did. But I feel this is a good a time as any to let you know of something somewhat important when it comes to both our survival and yours. You see, Leonidas, the moment you ingested my blood, your life became linked to mine and, by circumstance, Alasdair’s.”
Leo’s mouth fell open, and Vasilios gave a tight smile.
“So, you see, I am not particularly worried that you will harm us because I do not believe you have a death wish. Especially since you offered up your body to save it once before. Although,” Vasilios mused, “perhaps that wasn’t a completely altruistic move, hmm, agóri?”
Leo didn’t know what to say. Vasilios had tied him to them? But—
“Are you mad? What if I hurt you? What if I hurt myself, for that matter? I don’t know what the fuck is happening to me, and now, you tell me this? Why?”
“I assure you I am quite sane. And, despite what you think and fear, I do not believe you wish to harm Alasdair. Or me. We have much to discover when it comes to you, Leonidas. Just as we have much adjusting to do when it comes to the attention each of us requires.”
Leo’s breath hitched when Vasilios traced his upper lip.
When he lowered his hand, he said, “I wouldn’t worry much about Alasdair. He will come around. I once ripped his veins from his arms and he forgave me.”
Leo grimaced in horror.
Vasilios gave him a wolfish grin. “I told you, breaking a bone was me being kind. Now, tell me. Whom were you talking to when I arrived?”
Leo gained control of his finer motor skills again and offered his fate up to the gods, Vasilios, or whoever the fuck was controlling it as he replied, “I think it was Apollo.”
DIOMÊDÊS GRIPPED THE back of his neck as he marched around his chambers, waiting for Isadora to return. When she’d faded from the Assembly Hall with the prisoner in tow, his first instinct had been to stop her. The second had been to locate and trail her to protect her. Yet he’d sensed the underlying need for her to do this on her own and relented. Then, after no contact from her, he felt for her presence and saw exactly where she was. She’d faded to Neda’s Waterfall with the human.
Revenge… He understood her need for it. He himself had sought the satisfact
ion of getting it once before. However, he couldn’t help but worry that Isadora’s actions weren’t a result of more than that one emotion.
The fury and disappointment that were so integral in stoking the flame of true vengeance were there, but unlike the first time she’d sought justice for herself, this time, the feeling was less sure. It was clouded by more.
Neda’s Waterfall—31 BC
DIOMÊDÊS WALKED DOWN the narrow path towards the falls where he’d instructed Isadora to wait for him. In his right hand, he held the end of a rope and behind him staggered his gift to Isadora on this night.
Isadora Nikitas. The emperor’s daughter.
She was a beautiful female, but there was more to her than a captivating face. He’d seen love, determination, and strength in that woman, and when he’d offered her an eternity the night before, she’d placed her hand in his without a moment’s hesitation.
Tonight, however, would solidify it. She had drunk his blood, and when she fed, it would make their bond a permanent one. She would forever be his. His first-sired.
As he stepped into the clearing, he saw her standing down by the water’s edge. The same place where Daphne, the woman she’d loved deep within her soul, had been slaughtered like an animal.
He had been sure to remove Daphne’s body last night after he’d placed Isadora somewhere safe to rest. He had returned to the gruesome scene and buried the young woman. There was no way, however, to remove all the blood from the ground where Isadora was standing. It had seeped deep within the earth and would forever taint the peaceful place.
With her back to him, she knelt down and pressed her fingers to the dirt. Her back shuddered as she took a sobering breath, but after she fed from the one he’d brought her, she would no longer need oxygen in her lungs to survive.
It was odd, this newfound responsibility over another being, knowing that he held her life in his hands. But, in return, she too would hold his.
“Mikri mou polemistria,” he said, not wanting to startle her.
