by Tessa Dawn
Ciopori let out a blood-curdling scream as she plummeted toward the ground, her death imminent, the air sucked out of her body. She wanted to pray, but she was too afraid. She was paralyzed with fear. And then out of nowhere, the vampire reappeared beneath her, moving at unimaginable speed: a dark blur shooting across the sky.
He snatched her back up with a grip so unyielding that his hands felt like shackles on her arms. His hard body pressed so tightly against hers that she could feel every contour of his erection straining against her quivering stomach as they flew across the sky like a shooting star.
“Do not do that again!” he warned.
The chilling, demonic voice vibrated against her ear, and Ciopori shuddered. What was he? What male in the house of Jadon would dare to treat her so harshly? Who would defy Napolean so openly? And why did he positively reek of malevolence, death, and sin?
Ciopori quivered in his arms as awareness flooded her consciousness: He wasn’t from the house of Jadon. He was a descendant of her brother Jaegar.
Fear seized her heart like an iron vice.
And then the world went suddenly black.
eleven
When Ciopori opened her eyes, she was in an underground chamber—a large stone master bedroom—and she was chained by the wrists and ankles to a four poster bed, her torn silk robe barely covering her thighs.
She tried to lift her head and look around the room, but it was too dark to make out details. With the exception of one lit torch in the far corner and a few black candles scattered about the marble floor, the space had the quality of a tomb.
She heard the sound of an infant whimpering and strained her neck to get a look at a small bassinette just to the right of the bed, up against the cavern wall. As she turned away, her eyes began to adjust to the light, and then she saw him for the first time: the vampire who had taken her from the forest.
The creature looked jarringly similar to the males she had met from the house of Jadon, yet terrifyingly different at the same time.
His banded black and red hair fell in thick, wavy locks past his enormous shoulders, and his dark sapphire eyes seared into her like he was staring straight through her. He had a high widow’s peak at the juncture of his hairline and thin arched brows that were perpetually curved into a frown. His features were chiseled in a sharp, unnatural manner, and he would have almost seemed handsome—stunning, in fact—if an aura of evil didn’t hover about him like a swarm of bees to a honeycomb.
Ciopori struggled against the chains. “Where am I?”
The male sauntered to the foot of the bed, practically gliding above the ground as he walked. And then he stopped and smiled a wicked, soul-piercing grin. “Allow me to introduce myself, Princess Ciopori.” He stretched out his arm and bowed low at the waist in an Old World gesture. “I am Salvatore Rafael Nistor. And you are my guest.”
Ciopori’s eyes grew wide. The male was mad. “Do you always chain your guests to your bed?”
Salvatore lowered his head and briefly shut his eyes. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but I needed to be sure you would behave.” He stalked around the length of the bed then, reaching down to drag the back of his hand along her body as he went. He brushed her toes, traced her lower legs, and kneaded her inner thigh, a primal groan of pleasure escaping his throat as his fingers swept over her stomach, through the valley between her breasts, and stopped to grip her throat. “You are most exquisite, Princess. I must admit, in all my years on earth, I have never seen anything quite so...delicious.”
“Don’t touch me!” Ciopori trembled and tried to pull away.
Salvatore laughed a low, evil hiss. “Spoken like a true aristocrat.” His hand tightened around her throat, pressing down until it sealed off her airway, and then he sat beside her on the bed and leaned over, glaring into her eyes. “Unfortunately, you are in my castle now, and I am the only king in this room.” He relaxed his hand, nicked her jugular with the nail of his right thumb, and licked his lips at the sight of her blood.
Ciopori stifled a scream. She would not give him the satisfaction. “What do you want with me?”
Salvatore sat back. His eyes swept over her body, his nostrils flaring as he deeply inhaled her feminine scent. “Ah, but that is the question of the millennium, is it not?” He laughed again. And then he stood and paced around the room, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.
“At first glance, I would have to say to drink your celestial blood until I become drunk with it. And then, of course, to screw you to death when I’m finished...or perhaps at the same time.” He sighed. “Mmm, do you think I could break your pelvis with my groin, Princess?” His hand traced his lower belly and then he spun around and eyed her again with his head cocked to the side. “Yes, I’m certain that I could. A most exquisite death, no?”
Ciopori winced and looked away.
“But then, that would be such a waste of a precious jewel. You are the sister of our Dark Lord, Jaegar, himself—are you not?” He rubbed his chin as if deep in thought. “There is, of course, the more pressing temptation: to sire children with an original female, to watch my young tear their way out of your glorious body, knowing they will grow to be powerful beyond measure, but again, that would most certainly kill you. And you are far too precious to exterminate...yet.”
He glided over to a nightstand beside the bed and rubbed his hand in soft, sensuous circles over an old tattered tome, stroking the leather like a long-lost lover. “But here’s the thing: I believe that with the proper magic, you might be made immune to the curse of your sisters. You might be able to live through a live birth. You might even be able to conceive female offspring.” He bent over and kissed the cover of the book. “You are part goddess and part human, are you not? And I can feel the ancient wizard’s—Fabien’s—magic all around you. He changed you somehow, and I intend to find out exactly what he did.”
He leaned over the bed and gave her a slow, lingering kiss on the mouth, his tongue piercing so deep that she gagged.
She spat when he pulled away.
“No, Ciopori; you are not going to die right away, and unfortunately, I dare not risk getting you pregnant...at this juncture. It is my hope that in time—and with enough experimentation—you might be used to breed the most powerful vampires ever born for the whole of the sons of Jaegar. Perhaps you will be the queen ant of our civilization.” His laughter echoed off the walls, making Ciopori sick to her stomach.
“In the meantime, however...” He gestured toward the small red crib at the side of the room. “There is the immediate matter of my nephew, Derrian. His nanny recently—how shall I say?—passed away. And I am in need of a caretaker to provide for him until I can find a replacement.”
Ciopori raised her chin in defiance. “I’d be happy to watch the little monster. Bring him to me, Salvatore, so I can snap his little neck!”
Salvatore shot backward like a reptilian bird of prey. He ascended into the air and hovered directly above her on the ceiling, his eyes glowing red, the tips of his fangs gleaming in the candlelight. “Will you, now?” he growled, trembling from head to toe.
Oh goddess… Ciopori held her breath.
He descended so quickly, his motion was a blur. Then, one by one, he reached for her chains and tore them free with his bare hands, placing his arm around her waist so she couldn’t escape. Hefting her over his shoulder like an insignificant sack of potatoes, he walked right through the chamber wall into a long, dark hallway.
Ciopori gasped, terror beginning to seize her, as Salvatore stormed down the endless tunnel—half walking, half flying—growling like an angry lion the entire way.
“We will see about that, Princess. We will see about that!”
He took her through an endless maze of tunnels, weaving this way and that, walking right through walls, passing straight through heavy wooden doors, with her body in his arms as if the obstacles weren’t even there.
Dear gods, what kind of magic does this male possess?
&n
bsp; As they moved through the underground fortress, she heard male voices and shrill laughter, grunts, and groans—sounds that were as disturbing as they were animalistic—coming from behind doorways, down distant hallways, both above and below. There were many, many more males just like him inhabiting the space, but somehow, he managed to avoid coming in contact with any of them as he whisked her through the tunnels.
When they finally reached a set of pitch-black, double-arched doorways, Salvatore set her down roughly and seized the back of her neck in an iron grasp. “Open the door!”
Ciopori clenched her robe at the sides, her hands balled into two stubborn fists. “No.”
He slapped her in the back of the head so hard that her face hit the heavy door and bounced off, causing her to bite her own tongue. “Open it!”
Ciopori glared at the handles and frowned. They were made of interwoven cast iron and ivory, each one bent into the shape of a coiled snake, with several of the ivory bands painted red to give the appearance of cobras guarding the entryway. Their eyes were inlaid with dark rubies, and their tails were coated in solid gold. She cringed as she gripped the reptilian handles and slowly opened the door.
Salvatore shoved her inside, remaining close behind, and then he waved his hand to light the twelve candelabras placed evenly around the room.
Ciopori stared at her surroundings. There were two man-sized granite beds situated in the center of the space with large hand-sculpted statues of gargoyles at the head and foot of each, the creatures glaring down over the benches. The hideous monsters resembled a cross between an angry lion and a mythical lizard, with large, bulging eyes framing their faces and huge upper and lower canines distending from their mouths. Along the walls were rows of tunnels—like miniature caves carved into the limestone—and the ceiling was painted marble with ghastly renditions of snake-heads covering every square inch, all of the eye-sockets inlaid with gemstones.
Ciopori grimaced and tried to hide her fear. “What is this place?”
Salvatore crept up behind her and bent to her ear. “It is a chamber of exquisite pleasure, Princess. However, for you, I do not believe that will be the case.” He snarled, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. “Come,” he ushered, dragging her toward one of the beds.
Ciopori tried to resist, but the male possessed ungodly strength, forcing her compliance with casual ease. Attached to the wings of the gargoyles were chains with manacles on each end, and the moment she saw them, she broke away in a sudden burst of terror, fleeing toward the doors.
The vampire merely waved his hand, and her body froze, midstride. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Ciopori stifled a scream and fought back her tears. She raised her chin, summoning as much dignity as she could. “Take me out of here at once, Salvatore.” The command came out far weaker than she intended.
Salvatore shook his head slowly, his sapphire eyes glowing with intensity. “You still do not understand your place, do you?” He sauntered over to her, snatched her by the arm, and dragged her back to the granite bed. “But you will.”
As if she were nothing more than a limp doll, he shackled her arms above her head to one gargoyle and her feet, crossed at the ankles, to the other—laying her out on the bed like a pagan sacrifice. And then he cruelly removed her robe with one hard tug, ripping it to shreds.
Ciopori shrieked as she eyed the salivating creature above her, her thin silk nightgown all that remained between herself and the cold stone beneath her.
“Relax,” Salvatore hissed, “I said I wouldn’t kill you—or rape you—yet.” He took a seat on the bench opposite her, and with the wave of his hand, removed his own clothes.
Ciopori gasped. “What are you doing?” Her voice was thick with disgust.
Salvatore lay down on the stone parallel to her. “You shall see soon enough.”
With that, he took a deep breath and waved his hand. A strange ethereal music began to play in the chamber, and a dense black smoke began to rise from the floor, swirling around the gargoyles and the beds in a sultry, serpentine motion.
Ciopori blanched and blinked her eyes. The feel of evil was so thick in the darkness that her throat was constricting.
“You will want to regulate your breathing, Princess...to slow down the venom.”
Ciopori’s eyes shot open. Venom? What venom?
Before she could ask Salvatore what he meant, the room began to come alive: The walls began to undulate like the hips of a male making love to a woman, thrusting back and forth in slow, seductive gyrations, and the flames in the candelabras danced, swaying from side to side, the tips of the flames burning crimson red.
And then the cobras appeared.
One after the other.
Slithering from the entrances, the hollows in the walls, dozens upon dozens of gliding black-and-red serpents slinking out of the tunnels and dropping to the floor. Gliding toward the benches.
Ciopori screamed so loud her vocal cords burned. Her chest heaved up and down beneath her erratic heartbeat. “Salvatore!”
Oh, dear gods, please make him—
“Salvatore! Stop this! At once…” At this point, pride was a wasted emotion. “I’m sorry, Salvatore. Please, just make them stop.”
The languid vampire simply chuckled low in his throat and groaned in anticipation of what was to come.
Ciopori shook from head to toe, eyeing the floor as a large flat-headed snake slithered toward her. “Please…” Her voice was a hollow plea.
Salvatore snarled then. “You were going to do what to my nephew, Princess?”
Princess Ciopori shook her head vigorously. “Nothing. Nothing! Unchain me, Salvatore. Get me out of here.” Her cries rose in direct proportion to the approach of the snake.
And then she heard a deep, guttural groan, and her eyes flew open in shock.
Salvatore was lying on the stone, his back arched, his head tilted back, panting in ecstasy as a half-dozen cobras slithered up his naked belly and found their way to his chest, arms, and throat.
Ciopori watched in stunned horror as the first snake struck him hard, sinking long, pointed fangs into his chest right above his heart, releasing venom on a hiss. And then, as if the first snake had cued the others, they began to strike one after the other, causing a frenzied reaction in the other snakes in the room. Like a sea of red and black, the snakes began to descend upon the vampire’s quivering body, striking wildly, latching on with death grips to release their poisonous venom.
“The first strike incites the demons,” he moaned, gyrating beneath the slithering creatures, his enormous sex jutting upward with fevered arousal. He bent his head back as far as it could go, offering his throat to a giant beast that had wrapped around his arm, his own tongue practically hanging out of his mouth, swiping back and forth over the tips of his fangs.
Ciopori looked away, horrified.
She tried to pray, to chant, to remember her magic—how to push the snakes away—but she couldn’t concentrate. Oh goddess, help me! She couldn’t remember the incantations.
As a large reptile meandered up the side of the gargoyle and slithered across her shackled feet, Ciopori began to panic. Oh gods! “Salvatore! Please. Please. Stop this! I’m begging you.”
She watched in revulsion as Salvatore began to climax, shouting his release even as his body began to seize in reaction to the enormous amount of poison attacking his system. He was having multiple orgasms while enduring excruciating pain.
How is he living through it? she wondered. Sweet Cygnus, how would she?
Waiting a couple of seconds to come down from the high, Salvatore struggled to speak. “My own venom is stronger.” He hissed and moaned like a love-slave being taken by his master. “Over centuries, we have built up antibodies—”
His voice dropped off suddenly. On a sharp inhale, his sex jerked several times with another release.
Ciopori recoiled as warm tears rushed down her face. Marquis. Where was Marquis? Did he even know
she was missing? Would he come for her? Dear gods, what would happen when he found her like this, dead and mutilated from a hundred snake bites?
She whimpered in frustration—and terror—as the snake made its way down the gargoyle, slithered up her belly, drew back its iconic, flared neck, and stared at her with dark, piercing eyes, its tongue darting in and out. “No,” she pleaded beneath her breath, trembling like she was about to come apart. “No, no, no…please…” She struggled frantically against the chains.
And then it struck right above her collar bone, its fangs sinking deep.
Ciopori cried out in horror and mind-numbing pain as the venom passed through the bite, and her heart immediately constricted in her chest. Then just like they had with Salvatore, the remaining snakes descended upon the stone. A hard strike to her inner thigh made her jerk even as a third set of fangs entered her stomach. Her cries were primal and unrelenting; her terror hovered on the edge of madness; her soul pleaded for a merciful, swift death.
And then a deep male voice thundered through the chaos. “Retreat!”
The snakes swayed back and forth, hissing their displeasure, their hypnotic heads weaving back and forth with the threat of another strike, yet slowly...one by one...they began to draw back, even as the three already attached withdrew their fangs.
Ciopori sobbed in pain and desperation.
And then Salvatore held up his hand, and the snakes turned back toward Ciopori, renewed hope gleaming in their demonic eyes. He leaned over her trembling body until she could feel his rancid breath against her face. “Will you take care of my nephew, Princess?”
“Yes,” Ciopori sobbed. “Yes!”
“Good care?” Salvatore asked.
Ciopori gasped for air as her tongue swelled and her throat began to close in reaction to the venom. “Yes…oh, gods…please…”
Salvatore smiled then and bent over to press a soft kiss against her lips. “You do realize you are dying? Rather quickly, I might add.”
