The only visible physical imperfection was a long, ragged scar that ran from the corner of his right eye, down his cheek to his jaw. It was angry and red, but instead of ruining his face it managed to make him more handsome.
“Oh, shit. He’s in my head,” I thought to myself. Instantly, I felt two reactions. Colette, who I recognized, replied with something akin to “No kidding, stupid,” while a second reaction of silent amusement merely tested my wall, gently prodding it while never taking his eyes from me. Angry and scared, I slapped at him. His eyes widened a split second before his power rammed through me like a Mac truck. I flew backward and landed hard on the stone floor, too stunned to even hit with my hands first. My head slammed against the floor right after my shoulders and the earth shook.
Hands lifted me up; I kept my eyes closed as much from the pain as from the fear of what was holding me. I trembled and a flicker of annoyance passed through him, as I felt him force his way into my thoughts again. I knew the master had me pinned against him, his mouth hovering over my throat. My walls had crumbled, and in that final agonizing moment to at least die as me; instead of a mindless zombie; I repeated the Latin spell I had memorized from Dominique’s book aloud. It was the one she had begun to teach in class to chase intruders from our psyches.
It didn’t force him out, but he paused and instead of pushing harder, he picked me up and cradled me in his arms. I risked opening my eyes and once the stars cleared I was looking up at a face that was still impossibly beautiful. I was so attracted to him but it wasn’t glamor, at least not consciously. “Oh God,” I thought to myself. “David’s ability to draw women is a psychic gift.” The thought made me groan aloud and the master vampire looked down at me in alarm. I closed my eyes and made myself as small as I could wishing that he’d forget me.
“Not likely, little one. You are far too sweet for me to simply forget I have you in my arms,” he chuckled, his voice deep and thick as taffy. I stiffened and he laughed again. It was a masculine chuckle that sounded very much alive and stirred things I would never have expected deep in my stomach. My pulse fluttered and I felt a masculine sense of triumph in him.
He set me down in a chair by a fire, in a bedroom of sorts. There were books all around me, stacked on the floor; the tables, and on shelves that lined almost every wall. The large, four-poster bed that stood to one side was bigger than any king sized I’d ever seen. The room itself was richly decorated, with heavy red drapes covering the windows. The tapestries hanging on the walls depicted hunting scenes with hounds and men on horses chasing a fox through the woods and over pastures.
I was so taken with the room, I forgot to be afraid of the master himself and smiled as I pulled a small hill of books into my lap and held them like baby birds, cradled in my hands.
“Are these all yours?” I gasped.
“One does tend to gather things, when one lives long enough,” he drawled. I gaped at him, astonished at how quickly I’d forgotten he was the big bad wolf I feared. His glamour was powerful, but impossible to detect if I wasn’t concentrating on it. My heart thudded in my chest. He held up a hand to dismiss my thoughts. “I’m not going to harm you. Despite whatever you may have heard or been taught, we are not animals.”
“Oh, I’m quite sure that some of you are.” I pictured the photo I kept by my bed, of my mother and father.
“Just as you have monsters among you, so do we.” He held out a hand, and though I tried to fight it, my hand slid into his. I was surprised to find it warm and strong, and too pleasant to admit to myself. He released my hand abruptly as Rachel appeared with a tray in her hands. I smelled Lady Grey tea as she set a filigreed cup next to my elbow and another by the master’s.
“You and your kind are sharks. You exist only to prey on humans. Just because you are beautiful, doesn’t mean you’re good,” I argued, but my voice sounded unsure and weak.
“Watch your tongue,” warned Rachel sharply. The master raised his hand and she bit off her next words. At his dismissal, she left us alone again.
“Who are you?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice cool and sure, despite the turmoil in my gut and the ringing in my head from the blow it had taken.
“Ah, Miss Caroline,” he replied. I nodded and lifted the teacup he pushed toward me. “I am Nicholas. I am most pleased to make the acquaintance of a young Venatores with such distinguishing power,” he added. “Dominique has taught you well, but you are so very young.” His voice trailed off as he watched me flinch in surprise before I could school my expression blank. “Oh, yes, the Borgia family and I go back beyond ages.”
“You read my mind,” I said accusingly. He nodded. His face was inscrutable and it made me more anxious than if I knew what he felt. If he felt anything at all. “Are you going to drain me?” I couldn’t stop the words from flowing out of my mouth, even as I saw the flicker of irritation in his face.
“Perhaps.” I gulped hard. I needed to keep him wanting me alive more than dead.
“Lady Borgia is one of our greatest sorceresses, but she is very mysterious. If you were from a family that had been assassins for a thousand years, you would be mysterious too,” he retorted, one corner of his mouth lifting in amusement.
I gasped. I had heard rumors, but that they were true was thrilling. I suddenly had more questions than I thought anyone but Dominique herself could answer.
“How, do you know Lady Borgia?”
“Even in the beginning, the Borgias were wealthy aristocrats and patrons of the arts. They were also always aware that another world thrived beneath the cover of darkness. Our relationship was mutually beneficial.” I cringed. The master vampire was friends with the sorceress who was training me to kill vampires, had possibly killed for her own family.
“Kill me, or let me go,” I demanded. I couldn’t believe the Venatores capable of working with vampires. I refused to listen to a master vampire’s lies.
“You don’t get to make demands,” he snarled. “I will keep you as I wish, let you live, or let you die. For now, you’re interesting to me. Do not assume that we kill as easily as your beloved hunters. The Venatores are far more bloodthirsty than we have ever been, yet your tiny sect still exists, does it not?”
“You’re saying you could kill us all, if you wished?”
“We obey the laws our elders and the Venatores set before us. But, yes, if it came to war, there would be no Venatores Lamiae left.”
“You work with the hunters?”
He smiled at me, a predatory grin that made my pulse race and my mouth dry. “Those I find intriguing,” he replied, glancing down at the pulse fluttering in my throat. “You, my dear naïve little Caroline, are most intriguing.”
I looked away and stared into the fire as it danced and blazed, warming my face. Slowly it dawned on me that the fire and the tea were for my benefit. A master vampire wouldn’t have need of a flame. The room, the fire, it was mine, not his; I wasn’t going to die. Not tonight, anyway. I sipped my tea and thought. If I wasn’t dead yet, I just had to live until sunrise.
I hummed over my teacup and built up my shield around me, one thought as a time. I had no intention of dying; I had to make it back to the Venatores. I had no idea which way was up anymore, but I did know that I had questions, and they were going to give me answers.
I glanced over at the master vampire but his seat was empty. I was chilled; his power to cloud my mind was so expert that he had left without me noticing. My bravado fled and I shivered despite the roaring fire in front of me. I was alive, but all I had was questions and the stark terror of my reality. I was trapped and if he was telling me the truth, it was possible no one cared that I’d been taken.
Chapter 8
I couldn’t begin to imagine going to sleep; even when I tried the door and the windows they were locked tight. I hadn’t expected any less, but it was still disheartening to feel so helpless and alone.
I had been spoon fed hatred of vampires all my life. Now I had more questions about the
Venatores Lamiae than I did about vampires. In fact, I had one question about vampires. How the hell did I get away from them and back home?
I missed David. The sting of his callous behavior had dulled in the face of what I was sure was my inevitable death by draining. My mind reached out for him. I’d never been away from him in my whole life since my parents died. He would never be my boyfriend. But, he was still my best friend.
Now, I was in the most terrifying of strange places, and David was a comforting weight in my mind. It was almost like he wasn’t as far away as I feared. I reached out, but while I felt him, he wasn’t close enough to respond, or maybe he didn’t want to. I tried to do the same with Clayton, but we’d never been as close, and I couldn’t feel him at all.
Feeling David meant that my mind wasn’t invaded or under the effects of glamour. I ran to a window and threw back the curtains, expecting to see daylight, but there was complete black behind the glass. Frustrated, I examined it more closely, bringing the candelabra from the table closer to see better. The candles appeared in mirror image in the glass, aside my pale, frightened face and wide eyes. There was no view to the outside: only more stone, or dirt. Something kept the window from ever encountering the sunlight. I checked the remaining three windows and they were all the same. I slammed down the candle holder and screamed my frustration.
Despair overtook me easily as I sat in the corner of the room; my back to the wall. I hugged my knees to my chest and rocked; my mind refusing to accept any coherent thought that could help me out of my opulent prison. I thought of Domonique and the hunters. My questions required that I live to receive answers.
I breathed in and counted to eight as I exhaled, like I had learned to do to control my anxiety. As I worked on my breathing, I realized I hadn’t thought of anxiety or depression since I’d been taken. Apparently fight or flight responses trumped garden-variety issues. Either that or the master’s glamour was affecting my unconscious responses.
With that thought in mind, I practiced my mental shield, putting up and removing the wall repeatedly until I could do it without focusing on each individual part. I wished that I had Dominique’s book with me so I could practice spells. I hadn’t read the whole thing. It was possible a spell that could immobilize vampires was sitting in my carry-on in my hotel room while I was wondering how many hours of life I had left.
I reached out with my mind, sending tendrils of thought through the stone and spreading them like fingers down the corridors, trying to sense vampires. As I searched, my brain kept going back to David. My fledgling talent honed in on him instead of vampires, snapping together as one bolt of psychic energy. The energy poured into another room in the ancient building. He was closer than I could’ve imagined and I could feel his terrible pain even though he wasn’t conscious or responding to me.
The scream that tore out of my throat was like the shriek of a wounded animal. I was pulled inside him, and wasn’t strong or in control enough to get out. I was caged, feeling every laceration and broken bone like they were my own.
My wails continued after Rachel rushed into the room and I was aware of being moved as she carried me to the bed. Suddenly, the pain started to go away, until it disappeared completely. Shaking and covered in frigid sweat, I opened my eyes to see dark green eyes fringed in impossibly black lashes, staring back at me.
“You’re in shock,” the master said softly, laying a heavy blanket over me and tucking it under me so I was pinned to the bed. “Can you speak?” I cleared my throat, raw and swollen from my screams.
“I don’t know what happened,” I whimpered, my voice full of gravel from pain and emotion. He pressed his hand against my forehead and I glanced over at Rachel. It surprised me that her face was pinched with worry.
“What were you doing before you were attacked?” I stiffened at the question. “Nothing you say will bring you harm.”
“I was trying to control my fear and use Lady Borgia’s training,” I whispered, pausing as a harsh cough tore at my throat and lungs. “ I don’t have her notes anymore, so I could only practice what I have memorized.” My breathing was steadier now and I noticed that the tight covers had warmed me quickly and slowed my shaking. I tried to sit up and after a moment’s hesitation, the master sat back enough so that I could pull myself up against the pillows.
“Then what happened, tiny hunter?” he coaxed. His voice was gentle, but his smirk made it more teasing, less compassionate.
“I tried exploring. I was thinking about my friend and suddenly I could feel him and everything in me aimed straight toward him. I felt like I was trapped inside his broken body which was stabbed and chained. It was the worst pain I could’ve imagined and then some. I was helpless.” He glanced at Rachel, who shrugged and shook her head.
“Rest. I will be back soon.” Nicholas stood up and strode toward the door. I felt the emptiness in the depression he’d left on the bed. The feeling of loss was crushing and I erected my psychic shield to protect me from the love-glamour that surrounded him like an aura.
I’d begun to believe his glamour was unintentional and maybe automatic, but that made it no less compelling. My top priority in getting out of here alive had to be becoming strong enough to resist that pull.
Chapter 9
“Where did the master, Nicholas, go?” I asked Rachel. She shot me a sideways look and continued stoking the fire. “I’m afraid Rachel. Please help me. The pain was so real. How is that possible?” She made a sound of disgust and pointed at the chair in front of the slowly growing flames. I slunk over to the chair, watching for her to attack, but she went back to ignoring me until I was seated. Another blanket; lighter than the last; was flung over me and tucked in at my sides, covering me to my waist but leaving everything above it free to move.
“Of course it felt real, you little idiot,” she sighed. “What on earth are those Venatores teaching you young ones these days?”
I stammered and coughed. I had never heard anyone speak of the society of hunters except in reverence. Hearing her sound frustrated made her seem more human than monster. I didn’t know how to feel about my sworn enemies acting almost like regular people.
“Nothing, yet. I’m just a student, I haven’t graduated to an apprenticeship yet.” She made another sound of exasperation and set a teacup down hard enough that hot tea splashed into the saucer.
“What you were describing was astral projection, my dear. Most humans don’t have a talent like that, even psychics. Most vampires don’t either. If it was a lie to distract the master, you will suffer for it.” She sighed and fluffed pillows, glaring at them like their lack of bouncy fullness was a personal affront.
“You don’t think I was lying!” I argued. My body was warm and comforted by the fire and the tea, but inside me, there was a core of cold iron that fought against the creature comforts.
“You went into shock. I haven’t been on this side of the veil so long that I don’t remember what that means to a person.” I chewed my lip as I watched her tidy the piles around me, as if she was burning off nervous energy.
“Why don’t you hate me?” I blurted.
“You aren’t my enemy. I would no more hate you than a helpless piglet in a pen,” she scoffed.
“Does the master see me as food?” I pressed. The idea that I was livestock made my stomach churn unpleasantly around the tea.
“Blood is our food. Not people. Unlike most of you humans, the greater majority of us don’t kill to eat. Now. No more questions. Just, sit quietly and wait until the master returns.” Rachel returned to tidying without talking to me.
“Please, sit with me?” I asked. My brain was screaming at me to stay away from her; fight her and protect myself. But her actions and those of the master made me question my own hatred.
The Venatores had secrets; that much I understood. But the ease with which the master had spoken of them; of the laws they shared; seemed an unlikely lie. Besides, lying to me seemed like a waste of time. Rachel sat in the
chair next to me. Her body was so still, it was impossible to mistake her for a human. There was a quality to the stillness that made my heart pound and my lungs seize and I fought to control my reaction.
“Why are you suddenly so afraid?” she asked. Her voice was normal, without power or glamour in it.
“You seem so, human, I forgot to be afraid of you, and that scared me more than I was before.” Rachel laughed, an unexpected coarse, raucous sound that startled me almost out of my chair.
Adored by The Dragon: (The Dragon Lord - Book 3) (The Dragon Lords) Page 82
