by PG Forte
“The hell it’s not.” He studied her face for a moment then kissed her again. “If you want me to stop seeing you, tell me. If you want me to leave right now and not come back, tell me that too. I’ll go away and never bother you again, if that’s what you really want, Elise. But that’s the only reason I’ll do it. Not for the sake of some stupid feud and definitely not because it’s what someone else thinks I should do.”
“Not even Conrad?” She shook her head at his surprise. “What? Don’t tell me you haven’t even thought about that possibility, sugar. He’s the one who started the feud. What happens when he orders you to leave me alone? How are you going to protect me then?”
Marc frowned. Defying Conrad’s wishes should have been unthinkable. It wasn’t. He was getting damned tired of all his plans being overthrown for fear of what Conrad would think. “Let me worry about Conrad,” he said, mostly certain Conrad could be reasoned with. Look how willing he’d been to let Julie take up with Brennan, or all the men Damian had brought home over the years. Anyone could see he hadn’t been thrilled with that, yet he’d allowed it just the same. On the other hand, none of them had been vampires from rival families, either.
Elise’s eyes narrowed. “I guess it’s true what everyone’s been saying about you after all.”
“Which is what?” Marc asked grimly, barely keeping his temper in check. He was pretty sure he knew what was coming next.
“That you’re Conrad’s flavor of the week; the boy who can do no wrong.”
Yep. There it was. He growled angrily. “That’s not how it is.”
“It won’t last, Marc. You have to know that. But that’s no reason for you to go out of your way to annoy him. You should enjoy it while you can.”
“I told you. Leave Conrad to me. I think I know him a little better than you do. If any problems come up, I’ll deal with them.”
She looked like she was getting ready to argue again so he sealed her mouth with his, putting an end to their conversation. He deepened the kiss, nipping lightly at her lips, until she was arching away from the door, eyes closed, fingers trembling as she clutched him closer.
He couldn’t keep from smiling as his arms tightened around her. He loved the way she responded to his kisses; loved the way her body felt against his, so warm and solid; loved the way she trembled at his touch. But it wasn’t enough. He trailed the tips of his fangs down the length of her neck, to the place where her pulse beat hot and fast.
“Tell me you want me,” he ordered, inhaling her scent, practically tasting the rich essence that lay just under her skin. “Tell me you want me to stay, to spend the day in your bed, and that you don’t care what anyone else has to say about it.”
“I do,” she whimpered in reply.
“Say it. Tell me you’re mine. All mine.”
“Yes.”
Still not enough. Marc lifted his head and fixed her with his gaze. “Say it.” Her lips were red, parted, their softness a perfect contrast to the sharp, white points of her fangs. Her eyes were glowing copper-bronze orbs, liquid with heat. Was that a trace of fear flickering within them? He couldn’t say for sure. Still he gentled his voice and repeated softly, “Tell me, Elise. Let me hear the words.”
She licked her lips, struggling. He waited. “Yours,” she managed at last. “All yours.”
Close enough. He lowered his mouth to her again, fangs slicing swiftly, painlessly, into her neck. She cried out softly. As the taste of her flooded his senses, Marc hardened.
Mine. All mine. Yes.
Dawn tinged the sky as Damian made his way home, but he paid it no mind. He wasn’t at all concerned about the lateness of the hour. At his age, he was more than strong enough to be able to function at close to normal capacity no matter what time of day it was. And given the surfeit of blood he’d consumed over the course of the night, a few extra minutes exposure to sunlight didn’t even rate a second thought.
There were, however, other circumstances that did concern him. He paused in the mansion’s entry hall to scent the air, searching for any hint of danger, any sign of impending ambush. With two Lamia Invitus in residence, only a fool would proceed without proper caution.
Satisfied that the coast was clear, he headed for his room, his muscles protesting as he climbed the stairs. His body felt pleasantly and thoroughly used, aching in all the right places.
Once inside his room, he slipped off his shoes and let down his hair. Perhaps he wouldn’t even wash before bed. As tired as he was, he’d no doubt sleep soundly, but it was early evening that was still the most difficult part of his day. If he could wake up tonight with the scent of so many strangers lingering on his skin—how could that not help to ease the craving with which he usually awoke? The craving for that which he could no longer have.
He turned to his bureau to retrieve his hairbrush. He might be willing to put off bathing before bed, but failing to give his hair its customary one hundred strokes—that was simply too uncivilized to contemplate. As he reached for the brush, a slight motion in the mirror caught his gaze. He turned around, scarcely daring to believe his eyes. “Conrad?”
“You failed to return to the party as I’d requested,” Conrad said as he rose from the chair in which he’d been seated. “Imagine my surprise to learn you’d gone out instead.”
The husky edge to Conrad’s voice set Damian’s heart racing. His body, so recently sated, ached with need. An all-too-irrational hope took root in his soul. “Wh-why are you here?”
“I believe my questions take precedence,” Conrad replied as he crossed the darkened room. “Where have you been? I won’t ask what you’ve been doing, since that, at least, seems obvious. You stink of blood and sex.”
Damian shrank back against the bureau as his knees went weak once more. After all this time, how was it Conrad still had the power to affect him like this? He curled his fingers around the dresser’s edge, determined to hold himself erect by whatever means necessary. “Sí. I imagine I do. It’s hardly the first time and, strangely, I don’t recall it ever bothering you before.”
If anything, the reverse had once been true. For ages it had seemed as though nothing excited Conrad more than the knowledge there had been others before him. Damian’s heart tripped and faltered, recalling the hours of furious lovemaking that had so often followed; of a passion so intense he doubted anyone human would have survived it.
“Did I say I was bothered?” Conrad replied, stopping right in front of him; just out of reach, yet still so close it was all Damian could do to keep from lunging at him. “I was merely making an observation. I’ll tell you what does bother me. That would be you telling Julie you intend to leave, agreeing to take her with you. You know that can never happen.”
Damian’s temper flared. “Why must you twist every circumstance around—and always to my disadvantage? What makes you think I said anything of the kind? If you must know, I told her you would not allow her to leave. And I never said I had any intentions to leave here either. She asked me if I ever thought about it—that was all. It seemed a simple-enough question. Should I have lied and told her no?”
“If that’s true, then what made you go out tonight?”
The abrupt change of subject caught Damian by surprise. He shrugged. “I was hungry. Why else? On a night like tonight… Well, you know yourself there’s always plenty of food available on the street. Why should I not take advantage of such an opportunity?”
Conrad’s eyebrows rose. “You’re saying there was not enough for you to eat here? Why should that be? You run the household, do you not? Perhaps you’ve grown tired of the task? If you’d prefer for me to give the job to someone else, you need simply say so. I’m sure I can find someone willing to take it over for a while. Armand, perhaps.”
Damian stared at him in dismay. “You’d humiliate me like that?” Oh, why was he even asking? What wouldn’t Conrad do, if it suited him?
“It was not my intention to humiliate you,” Conrad growled.
�
�Yet you would replace me, demote me, force me to stay on in a diminished capacity?” Damian couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. “Was that not why I left the first time?”
Conrad’s eyes flashed. “Was it? My memory must be at fault. I thought it was for quite a different reason.”
“There were several reasons,” Damian answered stiffly. “As I recall.”
“Well, whatever your reasons are this time, you will put them from your mind,” Conrad ordered. “We had an arrangement, Damian. I will ask that you honor it. You will leave me again only if and when I decide it can be done without causing disruption. Are we in agreement?”
Damian looked away—as much to hide his relief as anything else. What would he do if Conrad insisted he leave? How could he live through that agony again? “I already told you I have no plans to leave. Why can you not take me at my word? Did I not come back to you of my own free will, and as a friend, besides? Did I not promise to assist you in any way I could? One might think that would still carry some weight with you.”
“Of course it does! When have I ever suggested otherwise? And I would gladly let you go again if things were different.” Conrad shrugged. “But, since they are not… Surely you can see how important it is that you stay? You must realize how much the twins still need you?”
Damian glared at him. “Gladly? Yes, I’m sure you would. But, do not attempt to use the children as bargaining chips, Conrad. You insult us all. You know in what regard I hold them. I would never knowingly do anything that might endanger them or cause them distress.”
“Then we need say no more on the subject,” Conrad replied, adding after a moment, “Why do you not simply put on more staff if we’re short on meals? There should be no need for you to resort to scrounging for food in the street.”
So hunting was forbidden now too? What next? “Well, if it matters so much, why do you not simply stop inviting people to stay indefinitely? Then there’d be no need for extra meals and we all could grow fat and lazy and never get any exercise at all.”
“I assume this is in reference to Georgia’s visit? Did I not already explain why I need her here? I told you both about the danger we’re facing. Were you not listening?”
“I heard what you said. Although I doubt it’s your only reason.”
“What other reason could I have?”
Damian shrugged. “Say what you will, Conrad, but I know you. And I know you enjoy the lady’s company far more than you pretend.”
Conrad shook his head. “I never claimed I wasn’t fond of Georgia. I care very deeply for her. It is you who’s always had a problem with her.”
“And with good reason. She’s dangerous—you’ve admitted as much yourself. Your decision to invite her here puts us all at risk. Especially the twins.”
“The twins were already at risk. Bringing them here— But, no, let us not get into that again. This is my house, Damian. And it is for me to decide how best to protect it.”
“Sí. Your house. As I recall, you already made that point tonight. Quite effectively.”
Conrad sighed. “What would you have had me do? Should I have let Georgia attack you? Would that have suited you better? Or would you have preferred me to attack her, in your defense? You must know what would be the outcome of any battle waged between us now. Only one of us could survive it. Would you ask me to kill her—or perhaps die at her hands—for no better reason than because you cannot keep a civil tongue in your head?”
“Oh, no, by all means, why not offer her a carte blanche, instead?” Disgusted, Damian turned away, glaring at Conrad in the mirror. “Perhaps you’d like her to run your household for you? I daresay she’d quite enjoy it!” Let him go back to the bitch then. Why should I care what he does? They deserve each other. And as for what he deserved…
He faked a yawn. “I am suddenly feeling quite fatigued.” He stretched sensuously, allowing his memories of the evening that had just passed to filter onto his face, and into his voice. All the men who’d had their hands on him tonight. All the pleasure he’d received at those hands. “These nights of debauchery do take their toll. So if there’s nothing else you wish to discuss, I will ask that you restore me my privacy, por favor, so that I might get some much-needed sleep.”
“Are you attempting to eject me from your room?” Conrad’s voice was laced with anger and disbelief and… Yes, with something else, as well. Something that sounded a lot like desire.
Damian cast a quick glance at the mirror. Heat darkened Conrad’s eyes. Bueno. Let him know what it’s like to hunger and yearn, to look but never touch. “It would hardly be my place to do so.” He dipped his head submissively. “After all, señor, this is your house.”
“Careful, my friend.” Conrad moved a half-step closer, crowding Damian up against the front of the bureau. “You try my patience with these little games you play.”
Damian’s heart pounded fiercely. So close. So close! Oh, if only he would touch me now as he used to… He banished the thought and forced himself to speak calmly. “You know, Conrad, I also recall this arrangement you spoke of earlier. Did you not promise, as part of it, that I might have my own rooms and the freedom to comport myself as I pleased within them?”
Conrad stilled. A soft snarl rose from his lips. Damian trembled at the sound. He held his breath and waited. Had he gone too far this time? Did he even care? Perhaps a quick death at Conrad’s hands would be preferable to whatever interminable fate awaited him otherwise.
Still snarling, Conrad leaned in even closer. “Don’t push me too far.” Then he was gone, leaving Damian light-headed, shaken and aching with frustrated desire.
Raucous birdsong penetrated his consciousness and he could not repress a shudder. The noise, and the watery, gray light filtering in from beneath the curtains reminded him all too vividly of those harrowing weeks when Conrad had gone missing. Of the hours spent pacing the floor or in prayer to half-remembered deities. Of the fear that had haunted him, night and day.
Never had he felt himself more inadequate to the tasks he faced, or more alone. Small wonder he’d wanted the twins here, close at hand, where he could at least hope to be of some use to them if disaster struck. He was, after all, still human enough to find comfort in proximity—and coward enough to consider dying in defense of his loved ones a far better fate than the hell of attempting to live on without them.
In hindsight, he couldn’t help but wonder at some of the bargains he’d tried to strike with Heaven during that time. What had he been thinking when he’d sent his rusty prayers aloft? Had he thought at all about what it might mean when he’d vowed to happily forego any other hopes he might harbor for the future if he could just get Conrad back again—alive and reasonably whole? Had Heaven heard and answered his prayers? Might it now be expecting him to keep to his side of the bargain?
He rubbed absently at his chest, as though to ease the aching in his heart, and wondered if it was a blessing or a curse that he could still recall, all too vividly, how this long journey had begun and how very different things had once been…
Chapter Fifteen
Sevilla
Fifteenth Century
Damian had no sooner finished bolting the door to his room when he found himself seized by the shoulders and spun roughly around. “What are you playing at tonight?” Conrad snarled, shoving him hard against the door. “This is your room.”
Confused and severely annoyed—his head was still ringing from its impact with the heavy, oaken door, damn it—Damian glared back at him. “Sí. My room. As requested.”
What is wrong with the heavens this evening? Can they not simply make up their minds? Did the powers above really intend to grant him his heart’s desire, or had he been hoping for too much? Perhaps it was their plan merely to punish him for his presumption.
To be fair, he had not immediately seen the Hand of Providence at work in the night’s events. When the duke first expressed a desire to retire early Damian had assumed His Excellency was in an
amorous mood. He expected he’d be spending the rest of the night sequestered with the duke in his chambers, attending to his every need.
With thoughts of Conrad filling his head, and the man himself nowhere in sight, it had not seemed altogether the worst option. At the very least, Damian hoped to take refuge in fantasy. If he were to pretend it was Conrad he was bedding rather than the duke, he might find some small measure of relief from the seething tension that had been making sleep impossible.
But His Excellency had begun to snore before his servants had even finished undressing him, which was when it occurred to Damian that perhaps his prayers had not gone unheard after all. As soundly as the duke was sleeping, it seemed highly doubtful he could have any further need for Damian’s services until mid-morning, at the very earliest.
Suddenly, the night was his own and Damian knew just how he hoped to spend it.
He’d been going in search of Conrad when, miraculously, Conrad found him—right outside his own chamber door. It was then Damian knew for a certainty that Heaven must indeed be smiling down upon him; until a moment later, when his faith was once again shaken by Conrad’s anger. But only temporarily. Because, what reason could there be for Conrad’s fury, save that he wanted Damian and felt himself scorned?
If that was the case, then bueno, they were of one mind, for Damian wanted Conrad as well. Kissing him had seemed the quickest way of getting that point across and, Dios mio, the man could kiss! As far as Damian was concerned, in that single moment they had both as good as declared themselves. The rest was merely a matter of working out the details.
So then, why was Conrad still so angry? “Tell me,” he demanded. “If you were this close to safety all the while, why would you have risked exposure by dallying with me in the hallway for as long as you did?”
Damian shrugged. “I did not think you would be amenable to the idea of changing locations.” He was surprised it needed to be said. “As I told you, I assumed your plan was to use the threat of discovery to try and frighten me. Since privacy would have removed the greater part of the danger, I had to also assume any place more secluded would not appeal to you.”
