by Mara Lee
Turned Innocence
Mara Lee
Published 2004
ISBN 1-59578-061-0
Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2004, Mara Lee. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Manufactured in the United States of America
Liquid Silver Books
http://lsbooks.com
Email:
[email protected]
Cover Art
by Colby Hausmann
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Dedication:
To C, who is and always will be my hero.
Chapter One:
She was staggeringly beautiful. He hadn’t expected her to be this beautiful. Alexethre Roistkauff could not remember the last time he had been so moved by the mere sight of a woman.
Xethre moved closer to the stage, mindful of the glaring lights that burned his eyes. Though it was nearing midnight, you wouldn’t know it by the brightness inside the club. The stage was brilliantly cast by lights and at the center of it all was Sheridan Malaya Duskul—the Council’s target—his target.
Xethre had been called away suddenly from Sophie’s home by the Vampire Council. Xethre found the Council to be tedious, a true waste of a good eternity, but they were still the Council. And they could make or break you if they so chose. Xethre complied with their directives—when it suited him. In return, the Council gave him his space, rarely summoning him for anything anymore. And so it surprised him greatly when he had received the urgent message that his services were required. Of course his surprise was magnified when he had received the Council’s orders.
The Council had tasked him with Sheridan Duskul’s Turning. They wished him, Alexethre Roistkauff, to bring Sheridan over. To turn her into a vampire. It was a shocking order. Not because he wasn’t powerful, or because he couldn’t do it, but because non-Council members rarely turned humans. To turn a human you had to draw the circle, bite, bleed, share blood and say ritual words. It was a complex feat that not all vampires could accomplish. The Turning was reserved only for the very elite. All others had to beg an audience from the Council and plead their case for a vampire companion. If the Council denied their request, the vampire in question would have to go without a vampire companion. There was nothing left to be done—unless of course they wished to annex themselves from the Council. This of course would be an instant death sentence. Oh yes, the Council kept tight reign on all new members of the dark. There would be no errant vampires—only those that were created and could be controlled.
Of course, vampires could bind a human to their side … make a human bound companion. It was an alternative to the Turning. To mark a human was decidedly easier than to convert one into a vampire.
Xethre knew that his sometimes comrade’s Michaela and Matthew had the power, and certainly had the lineage, to turn humans if they wished to. So far, they had chosen not to go down that path, as they had chosen not to keep association with the Council. They were lucky that their power gave them that choice. Xethre knew he was powerful. Indeed, he was no fledgling. But his power did not begin to compare to that of the Dark Twins. It was for these many reasons that the Council’s order’s bewildered him. If the Council wished Sheridan Duskul’s Turning, why had they not tasked it to Michaela or Matthew? Perhaps because they knew that the twins would never comply.
Xethre let his eyes move slowly over Sheridan Duskul’s magnificent form. She was tall. She reminded him of the Amazons he had lived with many years past. Her hair was ash blonde and fell in abundance to her slim waist. Her eyes were sapphire blue and her complexion flawless. She had high cheekbones, a full mouth and the most gorgeous cleavage he had ever had the pleasure of beholding. It annoyed him greatly to see that he was not the only one appreciating her incredible bosom.
Xethre gritted his teeth as Sheridan started on her second set. He didn’t know how much more he could take. Her beautiful voice and obviously unintentional sensual movements were making him hard as stone. Her voice was truly lovely. She was a perfect soprano. Her tone was balanced, light as air and yet managed a richness that he rarely heard. Of course it helped that she had the face of an angel and the body of a goddess.
The Council had told Xethre little, it was their mantra. Keep it short. Tell only what was necessary to get the job done. Xethre had been told that Sheridan Duskul was very distantly related to a Council member. This made sense. If Sheridan was related to a Council member, said Council member could not Turn her. The sharing of family blood often led to a fledgling with either diminished power, or mental instability. It was a form of incest—the sharing of familial blood. And the bite necessary to create a fledgling often involved shared blood. The Council had told Xethre that he was to observe, learn, report, and eventually Turn Sheridan Duskul for them. They had not told him of her aura of innocence or of her captivating beauty. It was unsettling to say the least. And Alexethre Roistkauff was rarely unsettled.
* * * *
Sheridan tried not to squirm under the man’s intense scrutiny. She was used to men watching her, lusting after her. She was not used to such intense longing. It was this longing that she saw mirrored in the man’s eyes. It was unnerving. One moment he would slip into the lights and her eyes would be blinded. The next he would slip into shadow and she could see such a strange light flickering there in his astonishing orbs. She should not be able to see him so strongly in the shadows, and yet she could. She could see everything. Her mystery man was beautiful—too beautiful. Such beauty was unreal. His eyes were the strangest, most amazing, shade of blue—turquoise were they? His skin was pale, almost too pale, and his hair was shockingly black. But it was more than his external beauty. There was a quiet authority there, a pulse of energy and strength that she found intoxicating. It was as if he were calling to her.
Sheridan shook her head to clear it. She was singing. She had to remember she was performing. She had never, absolutely never, reacted this way to a man before. Especially to a man who was ogling her at a club. She had brushed off hundreds of would be admirers and she had never yet given so much as her number to one of them. But this man was different. This man was more than a little intriguing, and, if she would admit it to herself, unsettling. And Sheridan Malaya Duskul was rarely unsettled.
* * * *
Sheridan exited the stage amidst loud cheers and clapping. She gratefully accepted a cool drink from Benny, her accompanist, and made her way over to Roger, the manager of Club Sound.
“You were as brilliant as ever,” Roger said. He leaned over and placed a kiss on her flushed cheek.
Sheridan smiled. “Thanks, Roger. Oh, Roger, tell me you’re getting the AC fixed. It’s hot as Hades in here.”
Roger nodded. “I know, love, I’m working on it. They couldn’t come out on the weekend. They’ll have it fixed by the time you take the stage Monday night.”
“Great.” Sheridan turned and stopped when she felt Roger’s hand on her bare upper arm. “Roger?”
“Sher, baby, have a drink with me.”
Sheridan plastered a smile on her face and shook her arm free. “Roger, I work in a bar. I don’t really feel like having another drink.”
“Then have dinner with me.”
“I’m not hungry. Thanks anyway.”
Roger scowled. “You’re being d
ifficult.”
Sheridan sighed. “Roger, I’ve told you a million times. I’m flattered, but I’m just not interested.”
“Without me, without my support, you’d be nothing.” Roger’s face had suffused with color.
Sheridan made sure to keep her expression perfectly bland. She had heard this before. Roger’s threats didn’t scare her anymore. “Don’t threaten me, Roger. It’s not very nice. And don’t think I can’t find work somewhere else, if it comes to that.”
“I know people, Sher. I could make your life very difficult.”
Sheridan counted to ten. She wasn’t about to lose her temper. She rarely lost her temper anymore. As a performer she needed a lot of patience and a lot of gumption. You learned how to deal with people—especially people like Roger. “I know people too, Roger. Listen, this conversation is leaving a bad taste in my mouth. I’m exhausted. I’m going home.” Sheridan turned on her heel and left Roger sputtering behind her. Usually she could deal with Roger’s flirting and not-so-subtle come-ons, but tonight, well tonight, she was just too tired. And Roger was becoming a little too aggressive for her liking. Perhaps it was time she found another gig.
* * * *
Sheridan slipped on her tan trench coat and picked up her duffel bag. She called out goodnight to Benny and made her way out of the club. The moment she stepped outside she was engulfed in darkness. Darn it, she should have taken Benny up on his offer to drive her home. Her car was in the shop and the mechanic said she wouldn’t be able to have it back for at least another week. Until then, it was public transportation for her.
Sheridan sighed. Well, it was only two blocks to the bus stop. She could bear the dark for two blocks. Sheridan pulled the lapels of her coat closer together, but it did little to help stop the cold from invading her body. It was freezing. And her coat was certainly too thin. But who could afford a warm winter coat these days? Hell, she could barely afford paper towels. But Sheridan hadn’t toiled all these years and studied so hard to fail. She would sing in as many seedy nightclubs as it took to be discovered. Most of the good agents these days recruited from the nightclubs. She believed in her voice. And
she believed that someday she would have success with the talent that God gave her. Of course … too bad belief didn’t provide a warm winter coat.
Sheridan’s teeth began to chatter. She needed something to keep her mind off of the chill. She pulled out a piece of gum from her pocket and quickly popped it into her mouth. It was hard to chew, she was so darned cold, but at least it would keep her mouth moving.
“Your coat is sorely lacking.”
Sheridan began to shiver anew—but not from the cold. The voice that addressed her was thick as coated molasses and warm as winter’s fire. Sheridan turned slowly. She was not about to freak out. Come on, someone with a voice that good couldn’t be that bad—right?
Sheridan’s breath caught and her heart stopped momentarily when she found herself face to face with the man who had caught her attention from the club. It was him—her mystery man. And boy, he was even more handsome up close—better than Tom Cruise, George Clooney, and Johnny Depp all rolled into one.
“Who are you?” Sheridan asked.
Sheridan’s mystery man smiled and it was breathtaking. “Alexethre Roistkauff, but you can call me Xethre, little one.”
Sheridan was jerked out of her stupor by his pet name. She hated pet names. “My name isn’t little one, it’s Sheridan Duskul.” Sheridan gasped. Great, she had just told the complete stranger her name. She really had to work on minding her tongue.
“Yes, I know.” Xethre grinned. “Can we take this somewhere else, Sheridan?”
“Take what where?” Okay, so he looked yummy. She wasn’t about to follow him anywhere if that was what he was asking.
“You are shivering, little one.”
“Yeah, well it’s a little cold out here … if you haven’t noticed.” Sheridan frowned. By the looks of it, he hadn’t noticed. Of course, her mystery man was wearing a very expensive winter coat. She’d be warm too if she had a coat like that.
“There is a small Italian restaurant two blocks south of here. I’d be honored if you’d accompany me.”
Sheridan smiled despite the cold. “Regio’s, I know it.”
Xethre nodded and held out his hand. “Wonderful. Shall we go?”
Sheridan laughed and snapped her gum. “Now hold on, handsome. I said I knew it. I didn’t say I was going with you. I don’t know you. You could be an ax murderer for all I know.”
Xethre’s smile lit up his already too-handsome face. “Do I look like an ax murderer to you, little one?”
Sheridan swallowed, thinking that his smile should be illegal. “You look like a movie star.” Sheridan couldn’t believe she had actually blurted that out. “That still doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere with you.” Sheridan knew she had to leave. She had to leave before she blurted out any more stupid remarks. Sheridan had always thought she knew how to handle men. She dealt with them on a daily basis. But this man was in a league of his own. It was like he had a sign on his forehead that said ‘Beware of my totally lethal charm’. And it was because of thoughts like this that she had to get out of his presence, and quick. “Okay. Well this was a novel experience. But I’m exhausted, so I’m headed home now.”
“You’re going to walk in this cold, little one?”
“Will you stop calling me ‘little one’?” Sheridan rolled her eyes. “I’m five eleven. I stopped being little a long, long time ago.”
Xethre laughed. It was a rich, rolling laugh. “Perhaps you’re not short, but you are still a little one.”
Sheridan rolled her eyes. Who was this man? He didn’t look much older than her own twenty-six years. “Okay, well, like I said, this was terrific, but I’ve got to go. I’m beat.”
“Are you?”
“What?”
“Beat?” Xethre asked.
“You’ve got to be joking.” Sheridan looked into his solemn face and groaned. He didn’t look like he was joking.
“I don’t joke.”
Sheridan nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m sort of realizing that.”
“Sheridan, you’ll catch your death. Let us get out of this cold.”
“I told you, I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Xethre sighed. She was being unbelievably difficult. He took in her shaking hands and chattering teeth and decided—it was time to take matters into his own hands.
Xethre wrapped his Glamour about him like a heavy blanket. He let it seep through him and burn a path to his magnetic eyes. He knew that his Glamour was reflected in his deep turquoise eyes; he could feel the heat of it shimmering and pulsating through him. He focused all his Glamour on Sheridan and smiled devilishly when he saw her take a step back. Her eyes widened and her breath hitched. She swallowed.
“I… I…” Sheridan could not seem to say more. She began to sway towards him.
Xethre nodded. “Yes, I am sure you have changed your mind, little one. You do wish to come with me, do you not?”
Sheridan nodded jerkily. She licked her lips. This man was way too beautiful for words. “Yes, I’d love to come with you.”
Xethre smiled, triumphant. Ah, yes, good ol’ Glamour. It never failed to work. “Terrific.” Xethre held out his arm for Sheridan and once she took it, began to walk in the direction of Regio’s. “I’m so glad you saw things my way.”
Sheridan remained silent. For the life of her, she couldn’t think of one thing to say to that.
Chapter Two:
Sheridan blushed when her stomach growled loudly. Damn, she should have eaten before she had gone up on stage. She looked up and noticed that the gorgeous man sitting across from her was smiling broadly. Shoot, it seemed that he had heard her rather indelicate stomach rumblings.
Sheridan almost groaned with relief when a large pizza was placed before her. The aroma of cheese, sauce, crisp bread, pepperoni and mushrooms wafted up toward her and made her stomach
clench painfully. She bit her lip and cast another shy look in her mystery man’s direction. Would he think her a pig if she just dug in?
As if answering her mind’s question, Xethre nodded. “Please, just eat.”
Sheridan didn’t need any further prompting. She dug in. “Oh my God, oh my God.”
Xethre laughed. “I take it that it is good?”
“So unbelievably good. Regio’s has the best pizza.”
“Yes, so I’ve heard.” Xethre said quietly.
Sheridan took a swig of her beer and found her brows drawing together. Not that the food wasn’t fabulous … and the view even better, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember accepting this man’s invitation to dinner. In fact, it was most unlike her. She NEVER accepted dates with men from the club. It was a strict rule of hers. Dating patrons was never a good thing. But here she was, at dinner, with the beautiful man who had watched her show tonight. She had to have accepted his invitation, but when? Hmm, it was a mystery, much like the man himself.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Sheridan asked around a mouthful of pizza.
Xethre inclined his head. “Of course.” He took a slice of pizza, dripping with cheese, and placed it on his plate. His eyes devoured hers. He watched as she shook some hot pepper flakes, oregano, salt and pepper onto her pizza and scooped it up. He took in the play of light across her face and the motions her mouth made as she chewed. Her eyes closed briefly as she savored the first bite and he could almost imagine what the pizza tasted like. Her face was so expressive.
Xethre was enthralled. His target was vastly intriguing. The more time he spent with her the more he felt that the Council had left out a lot when they had briefed him. He felt her aura pulling at him. She was an innocent, totally pure. He knew that her blood would be beyond sweet—the blood of innocents always was. But it was this same innocence that gave him pause. When was the last time he had encountered purity in its rarest form? There was that novice in 1731, but even she had exhibited a wild streak that defied her innocent nature. She hadn’t been meant for a cloistered life, and so she had decided when she had begged Xethre to Turn her. Xethre, of course, had declined. He could not turn her without the Council’s permission. In the end, the Council had deigned her an audience and had agreed to Turn her. But it had not been Xethre who had bitten her, but a rival—Pathos. Pathos had bitten Xethre’s novice and she had become his companion for the next hundred years or so.
