by Leia Shaw
“No. Absolutely not.” It occurred to her that he could force her and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. She took several steps back. “Not only is it gross but I don’t want to be a vampire.”
“It’s not so bad,” he said with a shrug, as if they were talking about a bad haircut. “You’ll have speed and strength, which will only grow as you get older. Besides, you won’t be a full vampire. Still only a quarter, but your vampire genes will activate.” He paused. “I think.”
Great. She was a fucking science experiment. “Look, buddy. You won’t sell me on the blood drinking so don’t waste your time.”
He nodded slowly and pursed his lips. “Then I’m sorry I have to do this.”
Fear tightened her chest. He wouldn’t!
In a blur, he grabbed her and threw her on the bed. Before she could even sit up, he’d sped to the cup of blood then returned to straddle her chest. His knees pinned her arms to her sides.
Panicked, she thrashed and squirmed, but it was useless. Marcelo had effectively and easily immobilized her. Her only power was to keep her lips together and spit out the blood as soon as it entered her mouth.
“Lo siento mucho, princesa,” he mumbled.
With one hand, he pried her jaw apart as he poured the blood into her mouth. It was sickenly thick and salty. She sputtered and coughed, trying to spit it out but he cupped her mouth and held it closed.
Eventually, she had to swallow. He uncovered her mouth and handed her a tissue from his pocket.
When he climbed off of her, she sat up, coughing and gagging, glaring at him with fervid rage.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. And damn him, he looked like he meant it.
“You bastard!” She wiped the blood from her chin and neck.
“Get some rest. Tomorrow night you will feel the difference. I will come back then.”
He disappeared before she could tell him to fuck off.
Chapter 17
Sage awoke in agony. The skin on her chest felt like it was on fire. She clawed at it, wrenching her locket loose. When it burned her hand, she shoved the necklace into her pants pocket.
A strange sort of buzzing began in her ears. Then banging, and thudding, and voices, and growling, and then everything jumbled all together, growing so loud she clutched the sides of her head to make it stop.
Something pricked her lip.
“Ow!” She dabbed her tongue along her bleeding lip. What the fuck?
Though she felt a little whoozy, she got up from the bed and looked in the vanity mirror. A thin layer of blood painted her lips. She opened her mouth.
Fangs! They weren’t as big as the other vampires she’d seen, but they were definitely there. And they were sharp. When she poked them with the pad of her finger, a drop of blood rose to the surface.
I’m a freak.
Tears flooded her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She allowed herself a moment of self-pity before swiping them away, along with any hope of having a normal life. Her future was filled with anxiety and fear.
Now she was more than willing to give herself to James, even just to feel the safety of being in his arms one more time.
What was that saying she’d heard so many times? You don’t know what you got till it’s gone.
Yeah, now she got it. She’d always been alone, but she’d never felt so lonely.
With a deep breath, she sucked back her self-loathing and replaced it with determination. Narrowing her eyes at her reflection, she backed to the other side of the room then ran forward at full speed. Her reflection blurred.
Super speed? Check.
She peered around the room then zeroed in on the thick, wood bedpost. With a smirk, she wrapped her hand around it and squeezed. It popped and cracked then crumbled to the floor.
Super human strength? Check plus.
Marcelo appeared behind her. He didn’t scare her this time because she could feel his energy enter the room she before spotted him.
Quick as she could, she spun around and punched her fist into his stomach. He flew back into the vanity. She launched herself on top of him and they both rolled onto the floor.
In a matter of seconds, she got the upper hand. Straddling his chest, she wrapped her hand around his throat.
“Hello, Marcelo,” she said with a sneer.
When she tightened her grip, cutting off his air, he knocked her hand away and pushed her. She soared through the air and landed awkwardly on the bed.
Marcelo descended on her before she could recover. He locked her wrists in one of his hands while using his body weight to hold her down.
“I see you’ve transitioned well,” he said.
She wasn’t sure if he was laughing at her or praising her. “Go to hell!” she tried to yell but it came out more of a rasp.
“I know you’re angry with me –”
“Angry? I hate your fucking vampire guts!” It would’ve had a better effect had she been able to access her lungs. She wriggled under his body, trying to loosen just one leg from under his.
“I’m here to help you.” When she continued to struggle, he told her, “You can do what I say and live or you can waste your energy fighting me and allow your father to kill you.”
“Screw you!” Miraculously, she got one leg free and managed a swift kick to his left hip, rolling him off of her. She leapt to her feet.
Patiently, as if he were dealing with an unruly child, he rose from the bed and stood in front of her. “I’m sorry about the blood. But what’s done is done.”
Sorry? Fuck that. She still had a lot of pent up anger to release. Aiming for his head, she did a roundhouse kick, but he ducked it easily.
“I’m your only chance for survival,” he said.
She punched at his chest, but he dodged that too. Every time she struck, he blocked her. She was fast, but he was faster.
“Stop fighting me, princesa,” he ordered as she aimed a side kick at his groin. He caught her leg and held it firmly though she balanced easily on one foot. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I must.” With one quick twist of her leg, he knocked her off balance.
She spun in mid-air and almost landed on her feet, but didn’t quite make it.
A growl tore free from deep down in her chest when she landed hard on her ass. Too angry to think logically, she ripped off the closest bedpost, creating a makeshift wooden stake.
Marcelo rolled his eyes. Acting on pure rage, she jabbed at him with the stake. Too easily, he twisted it out of her hands.
Next thing she knew, her back slammed into the wall and an enormous hand wrapped around her throat. He didn’t squeeze but the threat was there.
She clawed her fingernails down his bare arms, tearing through his skin, but in a matter of seconds, he had both her wrists locked in his grip.
“You fight well, princesa. You were trained by a vampire, no?”
“Let me go!” She squirmed then thrust her knee into his groin.
He grunted but didn’t break his hold. Instead, he pressed his thighs against hers, crushing her so she couldn’t move.
“Are you done?” His dark eyes pierced hers.
Her lungs burned. Sweat dripped down her forehead. She’d wanted payback, but a few gashes on his arms would have to be enough. She looked down at the scratch marks to feed her satisfaction and they healed before her eyes.
Fucking vampires!
“Are you done?” He shook her a bit to get her attention.
She nodded in surrender.
“Then retract your fangs,” he ordered.
Perfect. He was as bossy as James. Was becoming a pushy, overbearing brute some kind of side-effect of turning into a vampire?
She rolled her eyes, but obeyed. With a deep breath, she sheathed her new pointed weapons.
“You are going to be the Queen of the Underworld,” he said once he released her. “You should be able to control your temper.”
Why did she feel like she was being scolded? And worse, why d
id she feel somewhat ashamed?
“Cadmael cannot know you’ve fully turned until you’re ready to kill him.” He caught her gaze and held it firmly. “You must control your fangs. Do you understand?”
She scowled. Wasn’t she, the future queen, supposed to be the one giving orders? Normally, she’d have been eager to remind him of that, but she wasn’t a complete idiot. A sorcerer, centuries older than she, was going to try to kill her and all she had to defend herself was a new body she didn’t have time to adjust to. She needed all the help she could get.
Marcelo looked her over then shrugged as if she were barely passable.
She sunk onto the bed with a sigh. “You said I wouldn’t be a full vampire. Does that mean I won’t need blood?”
“Do you need it now?”
A shudder traveled down her spine. She was still repulsed by it, especially after the force-feeding the night before.
“You would thirst for it by now if you needed it.”
She nodded, relieved. The the fact that she didn’t need to slurp plasma smoothies to live felt like a bit of a consolation. “So how does one become a full vampire?”
“You must die with vampire blood in your system.”
Sage held in a gasp. “Then you are dead? James said –”
“Different people prefer to see it different ways.”
Of course no one wanted to be thought of as the walking dead. Least of all James, who would rather forget he was a vampire entirely. But wasn’t the ability to feel part of what defined being alive? Happiness and sorrow, anger and pride – wasn’t that all part of life?
She didn’t feel dead. Marcelo didn’t look dead, or act dead. They were all very much alive.
Though perhaps not for long. A heavy sense of dread weighed on her.
“Will you help me kill him?” she asked Marcelo.
“I cannot, princesa. In order for the Underworld to recognize you as their leader, you must defeat him on your own. But you have the element of surprise on your side.”
He stepped in front of her and took her hands in his. “And you are more powerful than him. I can feel it.” He brought one of her hands up to his line of vision and studied it.
Puzzled, she looked to see what he was doing. Her normally short and brittle fingernails had grown into long, lean cat claws.
He took one of his claws and began filing hers into a pointy tip. Grooming her?
She tried to pull away, but he held her firmly then said, with an arched brow, “I am giving you an extra set of weapons, princesa. Surely you do not refuse.”
As Sage watched this vampire, who’d been a terrifying stranger only days before, comfort and encourage her, she couldn’t help but feel a little warm and fuzzy inside. She didn’t have Erin or James, but maybe Marcelo was as close to a friend as she would get in the Underworld.
“Don’t call me princess,” she said. “Call me, Sage.”
“Actually princesa, soon we will all be calling you queen.” He chuckled when she cringed.
She didn’t feel very queenly. Maybe that part came with a crown. “Aren’t you scared I’m going to end up like him?”
A frown settled on his face.
“Seems likely, doesn’t it? You don’t know me very well. Maybe you’re stacking your deck on the wrong person. Did you think of that?”
He released her hand then picked up the other and resumed the filing. “I guess I didn’t. Do you think you’ll be like him?”
“Of course not,” she lied. Could he hear her voice tremble? She lifted her gaze to see him peering down at her.
“We don’t get to pick our parents, querida. Only how we allow them to influence us.”
“Ah, the old nature versus nurture. But no one ever stops to consider, what if you have both working against you? What if nature screwed you over one way and humanity did the other?”
He opened his mouth to answer then froze and cocked his head to the side. “It’s time.”
She let him fasten a pair of handcuffs on her wrists, locking them behind her back.
“These were supposed to be silver but I switched them to a steel pair. You should be able to break them easily.”
She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders in an act of false confidence. She was a good faker – and possibly as insane as her father. Marcelo had no idea what he was getting into.
He grasped her shoulders and looked down at her trembling body. “In the end, querida, it comes down to choice. And those who have the strength to defy the odds are the ones I’ll place my bets on.”
Chapter 18
Cold memories flooded James when he looked at the old stone church in front of him. He couldn’t hold back a shudder. Though the building looked much different than it had more than a century and a half ago, there was no mistaking the doorway to the Underworld. He could sense the change in atmosphere. It felt like a cold ripple under his skin.
Fucking hell. He couldn’t believe he’d come back to this place. But Sage was stuck in a plane halfway to hell and he was her only hope for survival.
He pushed aside the vines that grew along the stone wall. His memory took him back to the last time he’d done that very same thing.
It had been mid-afternoon in springtime and he’d been sweating under the canvas armor wore. An average-sized man with short blond hair and suntanned skin stepped ahead of him and held his hand out toward the door. A bright smile lit up his face. Why the dragon was happy to send an army of zealous soldiers into the Underworld – which he was supposed to be protecting – was beyond him. But he was thankful the dragon could be bought with gold.
His soldiers were nervous. He couldn’t blame them. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end too. It was a warning they all ignored. But since he was their leader, he had to go first. So he took the first brave step across the threshold, his loyal army on his heels. It was that step that led to his eternal transformation.
And now, here he stood, willingly, in front of the portal to do it all again. He hadn’t needed directions to the place even though it had been so long ago. This part of the country had changed little since the eighteen hundreds. And since he’d been through the gateway once, he didn’t need the dragon to open it again. It also meant he could see the door, which was invisible to nearly everyone else. It was subtle – just a shimmer against the side of the church building. A haze like you would see on a very hot day. All he had to do was walk through it. So why did he hesitate?
Sage is there, he reminded himself. Probably locked in a cell somewhere, terrified and alone. Or worse, surrounded by horrifying creatures, guarding her. Maybe worse than guarding her. Or maybe she was already dead.
The chilling thoughts were enough to push his feet forward through the energy-charged doorway. He knew he was one step closer to hell when the temperature rose at least ten degrees with that single step. Though the scenery didn’t change much from the Northern Wales location of the entrance, the overall feeling of the Underworld was…death.
Briefly, he assessed his surroundings, sensing for nearby threats. Too much in a hurry to spend long worrying about, he took off toward Cadmael’s castle. He felt nothing in particular but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
He ran at full speed, pushing his body hard. It didn’t take long to realize he shouldn’t fed first, but it was too late for regrets. About halfway across the desolate terrain, he intercepted Sage’s scent.
He stopped mid-stride and froze, relishing the fragrance. Even in the darkest parts of the world, she still smelled like fresh rain. He breathed it in and pictured pulling her into his body, safe and secure. The first thing he would do when he found her was take her off-plane and deliver her to Maddox to keep safe –somewhere she couldn’t get away, even if it meant chaining her to a bed.
Then he would come back and finish the Dark King.
The sudden image of Sage tied-up naked on a bed – his bed – flashed in his mind. When he found it only made him run faster, he welcomed it.<
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***
Marcelo escorted Sage into a stone dining chamber that had the same medieval feel as the front hall. Dozens of men filled the hall, drinking and talking, some growling and grunting. It hit her hard just how much shit she was in. Her knees started to quake.
Were they there purely for entertainment or were they awaiting her defeat of Cadmael, like Marcelo was? She bit her lip and choked back her nerves.
Marcelo pulled her roughly by the upper arm, partly to stay in character and partly because she was sort of dragging her feet. Cadmael sat at the head of a long banquet table, looking eager to drain her. The sight angered her more than she’d expected. Talk about daddy issues. Fucking nutcase.
“Daughter.” He nodded toward her in a gesture of greeting.
“Evil father,” she retorted.
Even with her life in the balance, she still found time to be snarky. James would have sighed and rolled his eyes. Would she kiss him again if she knew it would be the last time? The thought brought a smile to her lips, despite the march toward her doom.
Marcelo pulled her up the three steps leading to the platform where Cadmael stood behind a thick wood table. She looked around the room and studied the faces staring up at her – the faces that made up the Underworld, which people both hated and feared. What would happen to them if she succeeded in killing the Dark King?
The cold feel of Cadmael's hand on her skin pulled her attention to him.
“Come now.” He tugged her forward as she gave Marcelo a last fleeting glance. “Let's do this quickly. I won't drag it out.” He faced the crowd and declared, “This is my sole heir, and as you can see, she will not be overthrowing my rule. I know some of you had hoped the foretelling would be true, but you will see tonight, I will not be overtaken so easily.”
So he knew there was discord. Interesting. While he gave his speech, she busied herself breaking the handcuffs behind her back then gathered light into her free fists.
Cadmael grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. His fangs lengthened as he leaned in towards her neck. Did he really think she wouldn’t fight? Why did everyone always underestimate her?
