“Dante,” Aliya gasped, palming the spider. “What is it?”
The familiar … it’s very old. Dante hesitated as he crawled into Aliya’s sleeve. As in an Ancient.
Victoria’s curious gaze jerked to the spider. “What’s an Ancient?”
Drawing a slow breath, the high priestess responded to her question with a stuttered one of her own. “May I ask about your familiar? How old is he?”
Victoria frowned, wondering why Leto wasn’t being more forthcoming with their guests. Then she realized that Aliya wouldn’t be able to hear him, as she’d been able to hear Dante. “Leto was my grandmother’s. He does seem to have had a long life, doesn’t he?” Victoria said as she stroked Leto’s soft fur. He purred, but continued to stare at the high priestess and her familiar, his green eyes unswerving. “I wouldn’t have made it far without him. Why do you ask? And you never answered my question. What’s an Ancient?”
“Ancients are few and far between in our world,” she began. “An Ancient means that a familiar can live far beyond their normal years. Age can always be extended by magic, but it isn’t infinite, and only very few live beyond the lifetimes of their companion witches. Those who do are believed to have special gifts, carrying the spirits of ancient witch kings and queens.”
Victoria snorted as Leto stiffened beneath her fingers. “And Leto? You think he’s one of them?”
“Perhaps.”
She snorted again, earning a soft hiss from the feline crouched on her lap. “He belonged to my grandmother, but I’m pretty sure she got him when she was a girl, so I know he’s old, but he’s not ancient.”
“If you say so,” Aliya said, but seemed unconvinced.
In a smooth motion, Leto stretched and jumped to the floor, his gaze intense, with a long meaningful look directed at Aliya and her familiar. He sauntered away as if he didn’t have a care in the world, leaving Victoria to offer excuses for his rudeness.
“I’m so sorry, not sure what’s gotten into him lately.” Victoria shook her head and shrugged. “He doesn’t like strangers, especially since we’ve been here in Paris. Maybe you’re right about him. He is kind of a grumpy old curmudgeon.”
“No apology needed,” Aliya said, rising. “It’s late anyway, and we should get going. Please call in tomorrow and we will see how we can expedite your training. It’s imperative that we start at once, given … what you are.”
Victoria tensed at the wording, but she knew it wasn’t malicious. “Thank you, Aliya. Thanks for listening, and well, for everything.”
“It’s my honor,” she said.
As her guests took their leave, Victoria eyed the black limousine pulling away and noted that, like the vampires, the witches also liked to travel in style and comfort. She grinned. Well, at least she didn’t jump on a broom and fly off … although Leto had told her that witches couldn’t fly. Go figure, but one day, she intended to put that theory to the test. It was all physics and probability, really. That, and a really great spell.
Sensing the soft whisper of movement behind her, Victoria leaned back just as Christian’s arms curved around her shoulders, drawing her to him.
“How did it go?” he murmured.
“Good, I think. I have a meeting with them tomorrow to talk about my magical education.” She laughed, already breathless at the feel of his lean body braced against hers. “I’m quite excited,” she told him. “I’m going to meet more people like me and learn about who I am.” She paused, her humor fading slightly. “And maybe figure out a way to work this thing out between us.”
“It’s good to see you happy,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I know it’s been difficult the last few weeks.”
“Just a little,” she said under her breath, earning her a playful swat on the arm as he turned her to face him. His slate colored eyes bore into hers. She almost shivered from the intensity of that look, her knees turning to putty as warmth suffused her entire body. The attraction between them hadn’t waned a bit. If anything, it’d grown stronger, more combustible, and infinitely more treacherous. She licked dry lips and swallowed, watching an answering flare burst in his eyes.
“Stop staring at me and kiss me already,” she said, her voice hoarse. Christian obliged, bending his head and brushing his warm lips across hers, but she pulled away until only their fingertips were touching.
“Not that way, the other way,” she said breathless. This way.
Her mental voice was a gentle coaxing caress. Christian’s eyes burned silver as she slipped past the doors of his mind, her essence twirling around his consciousness, so seductive, it overtook them both in seconds. Desire was like liquid heat, touching everywhere inside of them all at once. Christian gave as good as he got, returning her phantom caresses until she slid her hand up his arm and he broke away, the physical friction of her fingers ratcheting the tension to excruciating heights.
What’s wrong? Victoria asked.
Christian didn’t answer, his free hand moving to cradle her jaw, his thumb brushing across her lips. She could see the simmering want in his eyes, feeling it in the pulse of his fingers on her face. She knew that all he wanted to do was to pull her into his arms and kiss her for real—kiss her until neither of them could speak. But it was far too risky. As torturous as the mental kissing was, it was the safest thing for them.
The reality was neither of them could be trusted when things got heated—her perfidious blood couldn’t be trusted—so they’d had to settle for something more controlled, less threatening. But as intense as the mental thing was, nothing could surpass the feel of physical contact, the feel of skin on skin, or the taste of his lips. She exhaled sharply, tearing her gaze from his, but Christian wouldn’t let her go. Instead, he drew her closer, his hand splaying against her back, his natural vampire magnetism compelling despite himself.
“Christian—”
I want … His gaze dropped to her lips recklessly. More.
Victoria blinked, responsive, her mind going blank for a dizzying second as an overwhelming surge took over her entire body, making her center hot and her knees weak. Her blood pushed hungrily beneath her skin, its desire almost as strong as hers. She wanted to say no, but everything inside of her screamed yes. It’d only be for a second. They were both in control.
Yes, she thought, sliding her palms up his chest.
Desire and hunger spun into the perfect storm as Victoria wrapped her fingers around his nape and held his head captive to hers. Christian’s lips and mouth recreated every scorching step of their earlier mental exchange. His kisses grazed her cheek, nipped at her jaw, her ear, inhaling her scent and descending lower, pressing into the taut column of her neck as she arched toward him, lost in the near-forgotten feel of him. His tongue drew a hot path from her collarbone to the tops of her breasts and back up again, leaving a scorching trail wherever it touched.
Her blood was singing, the heat spiraling under her skin as Christian pressed forward, his teeth grazing her flushed skin. Despite herself and the vague warning at the back of her head, she arched backward, feeling her pulse humming beneath his lips, louder and louder as if inviting him in—daring him to do what he was made to do—consume her blood.
All her desires coalesced into a single, insistent command.
Take it.
The only thing that drew them out of their manic, seductive haze was Leto’s crazed hissing and the vicious swipe of his paw against Christian’s leg. Christian jerked out of her embrace with a harsh curse, and Victoria blinked with wide, dazed eyes, confused by his sudden withdrawal, her gaze sliding to Leto, who stood by, fury vibrating in waves off of him.
That was too close. His mental voice was a shriek. What were you thinking?
Staring at them both, Christian stumbled backward, his lips stained crimson, to collapse on the foyer staircase. Victoria’s heart stopped.
“Oh my god, is that—” she whispered, terrified. “My blood?”
“No,
it’s mine,” he said shakily, tasting the blood on his lips. “I think.”
“What happened?” she said, her fingers fluttering to her neck to feel for broken skin.
They hadn’t ever lost this much control, not to the point that Christian would willingly put either of them at risk. They both knew what her blood had done in New York when it had possessed him. But they had always been able to stop before. She shivered and met Christian’s eyes.
“Don’t you realize how close … I … you …” he whispered brokenly, unable to finish his sentence. “If it weren’t for Leto, I don’t know what would have happened. We were both in so deep. I wanted you so much that I barely even knew what I was doing. I think I was compelling you. You felt … malleable.”
Victoria blinked. “But your vampire compulsion doesn’t work against me. We tried it, remember?” she said, walking toward him and sitting down on the step at his side. She studied his face, noticing that he was keeping his mouth tightly closed. His body flinched at her nearness, as if he was struggling to hold on to his control. She slid to the far end of the step, putting some distance between them. “Right?”
“Yes, but this was different. This time you wanted it as much as I did. For the compulsion to work, you have to take it in. You have to want it to work. And you did. Your mind is too strong for it to work on its own. I compelled you, Tori. There’s no other explanation for what just happened.”
Her heart plummeted as cold realization set in. “My blood.” She sighed. “It must have been my blood. I mean I could feel it flexing inside of me, but after a while everything just felt hot, and well, that’s what happens when you touch me, so I didn’t really think anything of it.”
“Didn’t you feel my mouth on your neck? My teeth?”
She flushed. “Yes, but you always do that, and you don’t do anything.”
“Tori, I was seconds away from ripping into you. If Leto hadn’t warned us, I don’t know what I would have done. Who knows what your blood would have done?” He broke off and Victoria knew he was thinking about the last time he’d drunk her rogue blood. Now, it’d be a coin toss as to whether the blood would have killed him, had he taken it, or let him live like the last time.
She swallowed and wrapped her arms around her middle. “Why would it let you compel me?”
“It wanted me to take it,” he said. “I saw it flash in your eyes in the seconds after I kissed you. There’s no other way you would have given in to the compulsion. Your magic would have warned you that a vampire was trying to compel you, and there’s a reason it didn’t.”
Christian grimaced as a spasm rocked his shoulders. He raised stormy eyes to hers and she could see that they were turning feral, his hunger eating away at him until it would be the only thing he could feel, the only thing he could see. His face sharpened, the sculpted, angular planes almost razor-like, and his features took on a predatory quality. Heat bloomed in the pit of her stomach. God help her—he almost bit her, and still, she wanted him. He made her forget how to breathe, especially when he was hungry. She sighed and mentally caressed his cheek. He flinched away from her fragmented touch.
“Go,” she whispered. “I’ll be here.” Christian disappeared within seconds with an apologetic twist of his mouth.
Leto walked over, rubbing against her legs. Victoria hadn’t noticed his constant purring since she and Christian had pulled apart, but it helped to diffuse the rattled emotions swirling within her. She stroked his fur and felt herself calm even further. She stared into the green eyes that mirrored hers.
He’s right, you know, Leto said, somber. About the blood.
But why would my blood want me to succumb to his vampire power?
It’s a powerful curse you bear … all it wants is its own freedom, and it nearly had that within its grasp, Leto said. Distracting you both was clever. You need to be careful, Victoria.
She narrowed her eyes at her familiar. What do you mean it wants its own freedom?
Darkness always seeks escape from its chains. The Cruentus Curse will do anything it can to twist you … to make you its instrument instead of its master.
Couldn’t I have been born a normal witch? She sighed. You know, without all of this crazy, surreal existential blood curse crap?
Leto stared at her. You cannot run from who you are.
I know, she said with an eye roll. I wish I could find a way to stop torturing Christian like this.
It’s his nature, Victoria. He is a vampire and you are a witch. You knew that this was never going to be easy. I warned you, but you chose not to listen.
Victoria bristled at the blunt reprimand. He loves me, Leto. And I love him. I am going to find a way to make this work, with or without you.
They stared at each other in silent standoff. She knew he didn’t approve of her relationship with Christian, even if he’d reluctantly come to accept it, but he was out of line. It was her life, regardless of her stupid bloodlines or his unsolicited opinions on the matter.
Leto’s moods had become unpredictable since they’d arrived in Paris. One minute, he was the normal snide cat she knew, and the next, he was a stranger condemning her with blazing, unfamiliar eyes. She figured that it had to do with Gabriel’s torture and its effect on him, but the erratic behavior unnerved her, which was one of the reasons why she hadn’t pushed him earlier with Aliya and Dante.
Someday you will learn that there are greater things than this childish infatuation, Leto said and stalked off. She stared after him in disbelief even after he had rounded the corner to the living room.
“Childish infatuation?” she repeated in an aggravated mutter. “What does that even mean? Why doesn’t the talking animal make sense?”
The talking animal can still hear you.
Then do me a favor and talk to your familiar friends so we can figure out how to stop my rogue blood from trying to get my boyfriend to kill me.
FOUR
The Art of War
Lucian crashed his fist into the glass countertop in a rage, watching the glistening cracks shatter outward in a concentric shape. He wanted to smash the whole thing to pieces. The Council was treading way beyond its authority, and if they thought that antagonizing him or the House of Devereux was the best course of action, then so be it. In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have let Enhard die—arguably, he’d been one of the few more rational influences over the Council, and many of his colleagues had followed his lead in his respect toward the House of Devereux.
His House was powerful in its own right, but noble blood remained noble in the vampire realm, and Lucian took full advantage of it, just as he had in his human one. Still, he wasn’t naïve. He knew that despite his aristocratic lineage, squaring off against any Elder would be suicide. For such mature vampires, their age gave them considerable advantages, like strength and speed, infinite regenerative powers, and invulnerability to most forms of damage. Another Elder could kill an Elder, but that was unlikely. The only vampire immortal stronger than an Elder would be the Reii, the original vampires. But it wasn’t like Lucian knew any of them.
Like most modern vampires, he was skeptical about their existence. The Reii were more myth than reality. Choosing to slumber the centuries, it was said that they remained in seclusion because the weight of immortality had become too much to bear. Lucian snorted. He would never tire of power and immortality. If he were Reii, everyone would know of his presence. He thirsted for power so much that it consumed him.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
“Yes?” he said, pouring himself a brandy. A tall, thin vampire walked in, Kristos, one of Lucian’s most trusted advisors. He looked at him expectantly. “What is it?”
“My lord,” Kristos said, bowing. “We have found the girl you’ve been looking for.”
“What girl?”
“Le Sang Noir, my lord.” Lucian’s eyes jumped to Kristos’s face, a muscle beginning to twitch in his jaw. He was sick of thei
r incompetence. He’d already found the witch from the prophecy—Christian had taken Victoria from right beneath his nose and she remained under his protection. It was over. He gritted his teeth, suppressing his desire to heave Kristos across the room.
“Le Sang Noir is finished,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “It doesn’t exist. It’s a myth, a fable, a lie.” Spit flew from his mouth as his fury echoed in the room. He would rather them believe it was an urban legend than discover that his brother, Christian, had been the one to find and wield the power from the prophecy. Kristos shrank back from Lucian’s anger, but stood his ground.
“I insist, my lord, you need to see this witch,” he said even as Lucian glared daggers at him. His black eyes glittered in response and Lucian paused. The urge to inflict damage hadn’t gone away, but killing Kristos wouldn’t solve anything and would leave him without allies. He massaged his brow and studied the contents of his glass.
“Kristos,” he explained. “Le Sang Noir has already been found. The power is useless. No one can harness it. It’s too late. The witch you found is not the one from the prophecy. This, I know. I have seen it with my own eyes.”
Kristos remained wary, as if he didn’t want to antagonize Lucian. “Perhaps not, but I have not seen this level of power in a long time. Her magic could be useful if she is rogue. No coven, no family.” He pressed on. “She kills without words. I saw her slay a handful of dark creatures with a single look. Her face was so pale and her blood as black as her eyes.”
“What did you say?” Lucian said, spinning in a reaction so quick that he had Kristos’ neck in his hand against the wall in a heartbeat. His snarling face was inches from his. “What did you say?” His voice was deadly soft.
“I saw her slay—”
“No,” Lucian interrupted him. “About her blood?”
“She had a wound,” Kristos choked, barely able to speak from Lucian’s death grip. “Her arm was dripping blood. It was black.”
“Could it have been a trick of the light?” Lucian said, loosening his hold on the vampire.
Bloodcraft Page 4
