But if separated . . .
Who was Dominion?
Head down, hands in pockets, I used the stairs to get to the hotel room.
Lucas and I had once shared a fondness for the use of code amongst other things, including our love of The Ritz.
I’d traditionally stayed in one of her more sumptuous suites, The Arlington, with its luxurious if not modest décor and a good view overlooking the courtyard. I’d failed to persuade him that the Prince of Wales suite was preferable, but Lucas’s simple tastes had won out.
This was easily Piccadilly’s finest London hotel, built in the neoclassical style of Louis XVI, with its exclusive Parisian architecture mirroring Paris’s most famous street the Rue de Rivoli.
I took in the room.
Though Lucas had delivered on his promise to bring Ingrid here and safely ensconce her in this, the Arlington suite, he himself conveniently wasn’t here.
There was an open box of tissues on the coffee table. An uneaten sandwich resting on the oak Chinese cabinet, and next to that a plate of untouched strawberries. An uncorked bottle of Champagne rested on ice.
Ingrid’s cheeks flushed when she saw me. “Lucas told me not to open the door to anyone.”
Classical music filled the room, the notes tumbling out from discreetly hidden speakers.
“Was Lucas planning on coming back?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“You okay?”
Ingrid, the only person I trusted right now, standing there as beautiful as ever, her hair tussled, her eyeliner smudged, vulnerable yet ever resilient.
The small gash on her neck where Sunaria’s knife had rested was not the only evidence of her assault.
“Lucas . . . he’s fine now,” I said, stating the obvious.
“I can’t get the image out of my mind of what Sunaria did to him. I couldn’t help him.” A lone tear fell, threatening others. “I suppose this is where you tell me I’m safe and she won’t hurt me again?”
I strolled over to the Chinese cabinet and lifted the bottle of Krug Grand Cuvee out of the ice bucket, pouring the Champagne into the crystal flute beside it.
“Lucas told me all about Sunaria,” she said.
“Let’s not talk about her.”
Ingrid sucked in her breath. “You didn’t have her knife against your throat.”
“Trust me it felt like I did.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry.”
Ingrid looked away.
“You need to leave,” I said. “It’s time to go home.”
“What? Why?”
“I’m grateful for all that you’ve done.”
“William, please . . .”
“Being with me is too dangerous for you.”
She hesitated. “You and I, we’re working together, we’re making progress—”
“I have to face this next part alone.”
“I’m not going.”
“There’s something else I’ve been keeping from you.” I offered her the glass.
She gestured she didn’t want it. “I’m not going to like it, am I?”
I put the glass down. “It’s about James.”
“Oh.”
“There were so many reasons I couldn’t tell you.”
“Is it about Lola?”
I waited for her to say it.
“I know,” she admitted.
“What gave it away, her name?”
She smiled but it quickly faded. “James was in the shower and his Blackberry went off. I glanced at the screen. I wasn’t spying or anything, just kind of did it on autopilot. The text was from Lola, and it was pretty obvious.” Ingrid gestured she wanted that drink now.
I handed her the glass. “He’s an idiot.”
She took a sip. “I can help you find the scrolls.”
Moisture on the Champagne bottle had formed into drips, and was trailing over the label and down into the ice.
“You don’t think I’ll fight for you, is that it?” she asked. “I should have been stronger with Sunaria, but she . . .”
I approached her and brushed a few stray auburn stands out of her eyes. “This is not about me not loving you enough.” I took her hand and kissed it. “I love you more than life itself.”
“But—”
My fingers pressed against her lips to hush her.
Her sigh was filled with hope for this moment, and for everything that it promised to be as though those words of me leaving could be undone.
Although it wouldn’t be easy to leave her, the door was merely a few steps away and all I had to do was walk through it.
Simple and effective.
“William, I want to remember everything. I want my memory back,” she said it insistently, locking her gaze with mine.
“Ingrid, we’ve been over this.”
“I need a moment.” She sauntered off toward the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
Sunaria’s words ate away at me.
I wanted to forget them.
My attention was drawn to the fireplace and the reproduction hanging above it, an 1842 oil on canvas, Odaliske and Sklavin, painted by the French artist Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres. He’d mastered the art of hidden brush strokes, conveying perfectly the young female Turkish slave languishing upon a soft bed while soothed by a nearby musician’s lute. The Odaliske’s expression was so relaxed, revealing she’d accepted her fate, perhaps aspiring to one day rise to the dizzying heights of the Sultan’s Imperial Harem.
A different culture, a different time.
The way Ingres had captured the woman, conveying every curve, her soft blush, her delicate refrain, he could never be blamed for falling in love with her.
The bedroom door opened.
Ingrid was dressed in a daringly revealing low tight black corset emphasizing her waist, complemented perfectly by the thin garter attached to black silk stockings, over a lace trim thong; perfecting this tour de force were her high stilettos, forcing her shoulders back and providing her with a proud, almost defiant gait.
I drank in her beauty.
All this time she’d been wearing this beneath her red dress.
Her expression changed as though realizing that which she desired most may just happen. “I need you to help me reach that part of me I can’t get to.”
“I’m inside your mind and all I’m hearing is bargaining.” I hoped my fierceness might dissuade her.
“I am ready,” she’d chosen her words carefully and yet it had sounded more like a question. A soft blush arose on her chest. “You once told me you’d know when I was ready?”
“Ingrid—”
“Let me have this,” she said. “Have you.”
Ingrid’s eyes burned with a desire of which I’d never seen in her before, a yearning so intense that questioning she was ready seemed wrong, as though the responsibility fell on my shoulders to guide her along a pathway that would lead her to fulfillment.
In this moment, there came the true lure of forgetting.
With a tilt of my head I said, “You can promise me your complete submission?”
Her lips trembled. “Yes.”
Slipping out of my jacket, I threw it across the back of a chair and then rolled up each shirt sleeve, taking my time, exaggerating the quiet, giving her time to think her way out of this.
The stillness of the room reflected Ingrid’s thoughts and what she truly wanted won out.
“No going back,” I said.
She caressed her fingertips over her parted rouged lips, an unconscious, feminine gesture of readiness. “Free me, William,” her voice was a whisper.
And yet, she was the one freeing me.
The way she’d reapplied her make-up provided her with a gothic air, tussled hair, teased curls spiraling downward. She raised her head high, perhaps in that moment realizing the effect her appearance was having on me.
With one look I reminded her that this dark incantation would be led by me alone, forcing my expression to be that of determined master,
driving out all empathy so I could take Ingrid as far as she needed to go, and further if necessary.
“Only with complete submission comes freedom,” I told her.
She lowered her gaze, letting me know she was ready with that one subtle gesture of obedience.
I bit into my wrist and blood poured into one of the Champagne flutes.
The moment of no return . . .
Ingrid’s mouth quivered in anticipation as she sipped from the glass, and then lowering her head, her hair tumbling over her face, the effects to taking hold.
I took the glass from her and pointed to the bedroom.
Once inside, I shut the door behind us . . .
The rush of excitement surged through Ingrid’s veins causing her body to tremble, but there was no time for her to savor what the supernatural elixir bestowed and as she turned her head toward me expressing her longing, she revealed she knew all that had transpired so far would pale to what was to come.
Her eyelids closed when I bruised her lips, sharing a smoldering kiss, punishing her with passion.
Soft musical notes came and went, taking her with them and delivering an uncommon enchantment unlike any other. She lost herself in the music, extracting from this moment the rush from giving herself over to me.
I easily controlled her, edging her on with whispers, easing her into that deepest place within her and shining the light it was due, revealing the secrets she’d chased after for so long and bestowing all that she was capable of experiencing.
Notes lifted and fell, dancing around us and sharing joyfully in our illustrious encounter.
Ingrid’s face reflected adoration for me and for all that I was bestowing unto her.
More of the scarlet drink was given, a daring amount that a mortal would never be allowed to receive in any other circumstance, and her breaths became shallow; her skin dewy from perspiration.
She was shaking now, seemingly in a controlled frenzy, focusing hard, pouting her concentration. My approval fired her tenacity.
Upon the bed now I wrapped my fingers around her throat to slow down her tempo. “I love you. And now you know that,” I told her.
She was motionless, her eyelids closed and her face relaxed, her arms resting by her sides, her mind drifting.
I too let go, experiencing the energy that had intensified around us, and inside of us too.
Eyes closed I went with her . . .
With Ingrid’s hand in mine we drifted across time and space, disappearing into the nothingness as we braved to become one with everything . . .
With each other.
“I remember,” Ingrid whispered and she intertwined her fingers with mine. “Jadeon?” She let out a moan, seemingly spellbound, the preternatural blood surging within her and prolonging her . . .
Losing myself completely, recalling the image of the way she’d stood in the doorway, her head held proudly, showing off with a delicious self-assurance. Taking full control, I let Ingrid know she was mine, finally crossing that near impossible bridge to her soul.
The music an unfailing classical backdrop to all that had unfolded, where new memories were being forged, and for the first time I believed they might just push out the nightmares of my past.
All that I wanted was her.
Ingrid’s auburn locks whipped from side to side as the building ecstasy stole her breath away, sweeping over her and causing her to tremble against me.
Her imminent emotional liberation was fast approaching, her freedom from those last remnants of her resistance.
She arched her back, staring at the wall behind her but not seeing it.
My fangs betrayed me as they grazed her neck, delivering scarlet droplets upon my tongue, carrying her secret desire on a wave of intimacy; Ingrid’s silent words found me.
“Turn me,” she was saying. “Make me yours.”
Chapter 32
THE ARLINGTON SUITE was still now.
The linen Ingrid and I lay upon was now crumpled beneath us.
I pinched the stem of the ripe strawberry, dipped it into Ingrid’s Champagne and pressed it gently to her lips.
I had no idea how much time had passed and I didn’t care.
She sipped the bubble rich wine in between bites of fruit and I kissed her pink-tinged lips, sharing in the mergence of tastes.
I reached over to the ice bucket resting on the bedside table and lifted out the Krug and topped up her drink, then rested the bottle back into the cooler, crunching it into the ice.
She sat up, resting against the headboard. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my future.” She put her glass down. “It terrifies me I’m even considering it.”
“Maybe that’s your answer.” I climbed out of bed and began to dress. “I have to find Dominion.”
“William, we should talk.”
I knelt on the side of the bed and kissed her forehead.
“Fabian thinks we make a good team,” she said.
I buttoned my shirt. “What you’re essentially asking Ingrid, is for me to . . .“ I refused to say the words.
“Turn me,” she muttered.
“This discussion is over.”
Someone was swiping a key card at the front door, trying to gain entry. Though Ingrid was oblivious to the imminent intrusion.
“You’re perfect just the way you are.” I shot my finger to my lips gesturing for her to be quiet. “Wait here.” I headed into the living room.
It was Lucas.
He held up a small bottle and said, “Pain killers. For Ingrid.”
“How are you feeling?” I asked him.
“Fine.” He looked away, seemingly still rattled. “I thought I’d give you two time to talk. That’s why I took a little longer.” He peered passed me. “Hey there.”
Ingrid stood in the bedroom doorway, dressed now and pulling a comb through her hair.
She approached Lucas and took the medicine from him. “Thank you for getting me that.” Ingrid tucked the tablets into her handbag. “I’m going to pop home and get some fresh clothes. Call me, okay?”
“Of course.” I tried to hide my frustration of not wanting to waste any time and start interrogating Lucas.
Lucas’s eyes glazed over, as though realizing something was wrong.
Ingrid opened the door. “William, I don’t suppose you want to come with me?”
“This shouldn’t take long,” I said.
“Sounds ominous.” Lucas strolled over to the bedroom and his expression changed when he saw the disheveled sheets.
The door clicked shut. Ingrid had gone.
Lucas considered the bed. “Was that wise?”
“How’s Jacob?” I asked.
He shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Jacob’s been rather elusive lately,” I said. “We haven’t seen him for a while now.”
His downcast eyes continued to regard the bedroom.
“Lucas,” I said, “what exactly did Jacob promise you?”
“William, please.”
“Let’s take a wild guess. Jacob promised you’d get Orpheus back.”
“What did Sunaria tell you?” he asked.
“Still trying to figure that out.”
“You can’t trust her.”
I leaned back against the doorframe and folded my arms. “Start talking.”
He caressed his throat. “Sunaria nearly killed Ingrid.”
“Take your eyes off the door.”
“Orpheus, I owe you everything. You turned me, after all.”
“You were the one secret I thought I’d managed to keep.”
He strolled over toward the mantelpiece, pausing briefly to examine his lack of reflection in the mirror hanging above it.
I followed him in.
“Jacob only wants what’s best for you,” he said.
“How long have you and Jacob been close?”
“A while.” He glanced back at the mirror. “Jacob’s wisdom became something I couldn’t live without.”
&
nbsp; “So you’re for Dominion’s rule?”
“Most ardently.”
“You believe he can save us?”
“Yes.”
“I know about Paradom,” I said.
Lucas raised his chin as though his thoughts were racing.
“I know he’s joined with Dominion.”
Lucas frowned. “Who told you that?” Then he realized. “Sunaria believes that?”
“Is it true?”
He ambled over toward the Champagne and lifted it. “So many luxuries that we can easily afford . . . but not partake in.”
“Is Paradom joined with Dominion?” I asked again.
He dropped the bottle back into the cooler. “No.”
“Is that another lie?”
Silence filled the room and I let it, hoping that he too would feel the weight of those words.
He slumped down onto the edge of the bed.
I gripped both of his wrists and pushed him back. “I need the truth. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get it.”
“You’re hurting me.”
“Have you been spying on me for Jacob?”
“Guarding you. Protecting you.”
“You need the scrolls for Paradom, not for me.” I said.
He shook his head. “For you. Of course for you.”
I tightened my grip. “Is Jacob still a member of the Stone Masters?”
He held back for a moment and then whispered, “Yes.”
I was stunned.
“Both Fabian and Jacob believe that mortals and vampires must rule together,” he said.
“Are you a Stone Lord?” I let him go.
“My directive comes from Fabian. My orders were to protect you at all cost. You discovered it was mercury that Sovereign was using on us. You saved us, William.”
I took a step back.
Lucas stood up. “I understand that you don’t know who to believe.”
“Sunaria warned me that if I didn’t kill Dominion, she’d kill Ingrid.”
“Dominion’s our only hope.” Lucas closed the gap between us. “You must see that?”
“Vampire and mortal rule seems an obvious answer. But I need to talk with Dominion—” I shook my head— “Paradom. I need to find out his agenda.”
“Paradom isn’t Dominion,” he said defiantly.
“Why am I being led to believe that?”
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