Bound to the Vampire

by Selena Blake

  “Then you have lots to catch up on,” Shade said with a smirk. With an arm around Izzy's shoulders, he led her toward the hotel. Ceara offered them a quick smile, grabbed her beach towel and reached for Maxim's hand.

  Dameon watched the other two couples walk away before he took his seat again.

  “Moonbeams?” Valencia scoffed.

  “Isn't that the kind of language you ladies love?”

  She murmured something under her breath.

  “What's that, Val-dear?” It wasn't like her to mumble or hold her tongue but he was realizing that though she shared the same face and the same body, she was very different from the woman he'd known two centuries ago.

  “Not from you.”

  “From me?”

  “That's not what I want to hear from you. We had our moonlight and roses. Our honeymoon time, as you call it. It didn't end well.”

  Whose fault was that? Was there any fault to be had? Many sleepless days he’d wondered if perhaps they just hadn't loved each other enough or trusted each other enough.

  But that wasn’t true.

  “No. It didn't.”

  But it wasn't because of lack of love. Or trust, on his part. He'd trusted her with his heart, his soul. And he'd loved her more than anything else: his family, his position, his immortality.

  She turned and looked right at him, those blue eyes pegging him like darts to the dart board.

  “Why did you cut your hair?” he asked and resisted the urge to finger the silky strands brushing her cheek.

  “Because I wanted to.”

  “It's so severe.” Perfectly chiseled, cropped right above her chin. A bob so sleek she could have been a hair care model. Not a hair out of place. He wasn't surprised; there'd always been something other worldly about her. From that first moment he'd laid eyes on her.

  “It matches my mood,” she said and turned away. But she didn't move away or flash. That was progress he supposed.

  “You surprise me, Valencia.”

  She turned his way again.

  “Why is that?” A delicate brow lifted a fraction in question.

  “All your money, your grace, you could be anywhere in the world, do anything and yet you choose to sit here and sulk like a child.”

  Her eyes widened and those darts turned to daggers.

  “You don't think I have a right to sulk? After everything—”

  “Once upon a time. Yes. We both had reason to pity ourselves. But it's been centuries Valencia. Why haven't you found happiness again?”

  “It didn't work out so well for me last time, now did it? Every time I think about...” She trailed off and finished her cocktail rather than her sentence.

  “Think about what?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I want to know. What do you think about?” He touched her wrist and her gaze zeroed in on his hand but she didn't speak. Didn't move, kept her body straight on the seat.

  “Valencia, Dameon,” Latham said as he strode up. Somehow he always appeared casual even though his every movement was full of purpose. He seemed more relaxed than yesterday. “I trust you enjoyed the dolphin excursion.”

  Dameon nodded. “It was lovely. Such a marvelous world. We’re sorry you missed it.”

  “Selma was a terrific hostess, Charles.”

  “Excellent. We're going to be closing the outside terraces in an hour. There's a storm coming in that we need to prepare for.”

  Dameon noticed several staff members alerting the other guests.

  “We'll be sure to clear out before then,” he told the god.

  “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  “Thank you,” Valencia murmured.

  They watched him walk away and Dameon knew she was about to bolt. He was coming to realize that when she felt backed into a corner she escaped.

  How different she was from the woman who'd once come out wielding a deadly blade.

  “Come on. I'll walk you back to your cottage.”

  “How do you know I have a cottage?”

  He smiled down at her as he stood. “I know a great many things, Val-dear. And I pay well for information.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “What else do you know?”

  He held out his hand to her. “Walk with me and find out.”

  She glanced between his face and hand and back again, silently pondering.

  He could see the wheels turning in her head and though she still had a mental shield up, he could almost read her thoughts.

  She didn't trust him but was wondering what he had to say. Curiosity was ingrained in her even though she tried not to show it now.

  She reached for his hand. Cool, satiny soft skin slid against his. He tightened his grip and helped her from her seat. This time he was prepared for her touch. At the dance their connection had thrown him for a loop. But touch was a funny thing. So was scent. And when combined— “So. What is it you think you know?” she asked, meeting his gaze head-on.

  There she was. The vixen who'd stolen his heart with such ease. She could have been a surgeon, what with the way she'd relieved him of the blood-pumping organ and the way she'd wielded a blade.

  But she didn't pull her hand away which he found extra interesting. Half an hour ago she’d been so distant and he’d been sure that he’d have to fight for her touch again. But now…

  When had she become such a contradiction and why did that turn him on so much? He usually couldn’t be bothered to chase. He was much more at ease with setting traps.

  Was she done fighting their natural lure? It was exhausting. Staying away from her all these years had been possible only due to his iron will. Today he'd let that tenacity shift from fight to conquer.

  “You have a coven of your own now. Filled with misfits and orphans and whoever else strikes your fancy.”

  She nodded as they strode along the wooden boardwalk toward the jungle.

  “You don't deny it?”

  “No.”

  Once upon a time her family had been about place, status. They'd been royalty in the vampire world and they had no time for those beneath them. That Valencia not only aligned herself with these people but counted them amongst her friends was a sign of her character. But then he'd always seen that side of her...right until the moment where she'd gutted him in front of their family, friends and the whole of the vampire elite.

  “I applaud you for it,” he said softly, guiding her around a leaning palm tree.

  “You do?” She turned toward him, brows lifted in surprise.

  “I do. Word is you've helped countless females. That's to be commended.”

  “Not everyone would think so.”

  “Those people aren't the ones who matter, are they?”

  She paused, a wistful look on her face. The softening of her lips was so contradictory to the cool set of her mouth at her party. There she’d been a queen, surveying her court, holding herself apart from everyone. But here, now, she was real, touchable again. She was the Valencia who showed emotion, who didn’t deny her true nature.

  “No. They're not the ones who matter. Not anymore.”

  But at one time, they had; that's what she meant. And he understood all too well. The expectations. Too many expectations.

  He wanted to say something more, to let her know he understood what she'd been through. But he didn't. Not really. Her life had been vastly different from his even though they shared so much.

  The quiet as they strolled through the tropical paradise was peaceful, washing away the turmoil of the last week of his life.

  It'd so long since he'd enjoyed a quiet, peace filled moment that he honestly couldn't remember that last time. He wouldn't be surprised if it had been before their wedding day. It seemed as if his life was divided by that day. Those six months with her had been everything. And every day after had been tumultuous.

  Fighting not only with the wolves and other covens, but within his family.

  But all that was done. Over. Blessedly finished.
>
  Chapter Ten

  Dameon sighed, torn over the peace he felt and his need to talk about the events that had pushed them apart. The indecision wasn’t like him and he hated that. Deep down he hated feeling soft and weak especially after the pain he’d endured. But seeing her now made him realize that she’d seen pain. She’d more than her share.

  For a long time he’d glossed over that. But there was no glossing over the fact that his father had secretly had her parents murdered. There was no shying away from the fact that she was the very last of her bloodline. He’d ignored too much for far, far too long.

  His stomach rolled. It was inexcusable. His inaction had caused her pain and he hadn’t stopped any of it simply because she’d hurt him once. Once in all the time he’d known her.

  “Why the sigh?” she asked softly as they wove their way toward the beach front cottages.

  She'd heard that? Of course she had. Since that first moment, they'd had the kind of connection that most people only dreamt of. The kind of connection that legends were made of.

  A bolt of lightning zinged across the sky overhead. Silently he counted the seconds until the thunder rumbled across the ocean.

  She squeezed his hand when he didn’t reply.

  Gods he missed this. The ease. Never before her and certainly not since had he felt so relaxed with anyone else. Their relationship had been primal, yes, but spiritual too. Somehow whenever she was near, things made sense. Life was easier. Decisions, simpler to make. Which made their history all that harder to come to terms with.

  “A little bit of everything.” Why had she stopped him before in his room? Was she so worried what her friends would think? It seemed like they all approved of their fearless leader finding a little happiness.

  Was she still upset about his demand that she marry him? It was unlike her to let things fester. At least, the old Valencia would have called him out about it. She would have taken him to task for calling her his wife at the Masquerade.

  She paused and he felt her gaze. Then she pulled her hand from his and the connection, never mind how tenuous, was lost. He wasn't having that. Not after the progress they'd made.

  He reached for her hand again and for just a moment, he was able to read her thoughts. Chaos. Uncertainty. She thought he was keeping secrets.

  If there was any hope at a future together, they needed to talk. Clear the air. He was tired of waiting, of warming her up to the idea of him, them, together again. Together at last.

  “I'm not keeping secrets, chérie.”

  She huffed out a breath. “I don’t believe that. You and your father are so good at keeping your secrets until the moment they’ll do the most damage.”

  Her language confused him. She’d spoken in the present tense, as if… “Surely you heard the news of my father.”

  A swift breeze tunneled through the foliage and lifted her hair.

  “No.”

  He frowned.

  She looked down at the ground and he caught that hint of insecurity again. “I try to stay out of that...business.”

  She’d cocooned herself; it explained so much. He wished he'd been able to do that. If he'd really wanted to, he could have. Just like her he could have left his family, his station behind. But did that really work? Was it truly possible to leave your past behind?

  It seemed it hadn’t worked so well for her. On one hand, she’d thrived as a businesswoman. She’d created a comfortable life for herself, surrounding herself by true friends. But at what cost? Her family was gone. Her family home, lost. But maybe that wasn’t so bad at all. Though she’d lost much of her vibrancy, maybe she was happy underneath it all.

  If that was the case, why did he sense a bone deep chill in her? Why did she seem one fake smile away from cracking into a million pieces?

  His father had been the root of his pain, the source of so many problems. And now he knew that his father had been the source of her pain as well.

  Never again.

  Dameon couldn't stop himself from touching her, from reaching for her and cupping her cheeks between his hands the way he had a thousand times before.

  Eyes locked with hers, he implored her to understand. “He's dead.”

  Strange words for an immortal, but true nonetheless.

  Her breath hissed through her teeth. “Dead?”

  The disbelief showed on her face, in her eyes, the drop of her jaw, the lift in her perfect dark brows.

  He nodded.

  She dropped her gaze to his chest and her mind opened to him. The implications of what the news meant swirled through her mind.

  “How?” she asked, her voice…relieved.

  “By my own hand.”

  Her lovely blue eyes went wide and she leaned back a fraction, but he didn't sense any fear in her. Rather, shock. Stone cold shock chased away every other emotion in her mind. And in an instant, it was replaced by regret. She was sorry he’d had to do such a thing. If he wasn't mistaken, she leaned into his touch.

  “Why?”

  “We fought all the time, my father and I. We fought last month. He insisted I produce heirs. He'd been insisting for years. I always told him no. And that was the end of it. He was just a figure head and he knew it. But what I didn't know was he was making alliances behind my back. He found out about our bond and he tried to use it against me. He wanted me to... never mind.”

  “No. Tell me.” It wasn't as if she didn't know how depraved the vampire world could be. And as alarming as the story was, she knew it was the truth. His father had been the king of ruthless bastards.

  “He planned to kill you, to kill our bond. Then I'd be free to produce heirs with someone else.”

  Valencia felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She'd given up her life, her station to rid herself of that world. She'd tried to live quietly, not in the vampire world, not with the humans either. For so long she’d lived in between, in a place of limbo, but she'd made a success of herself, reinventing herself dozens of times over.

  But she had never lifted a finger against the LeBeaus. And that imbecile wanted her dead.

  She choked on a gasp. That kind of cold hate was something she kept locked so deep she'd thought it was gone. But it filled her anew.

  “I couldn't let him do that. I'd bought his lies for far too long. I was too happy with my station, I'm appalled to say. But I couldn't let him get away with harming you.”

  “Do you—” She licked her lips and forced the words out. Her heart, her soul, her life hung in the balance of his answer. “Do you want to stay bound to me?”

  Was that why he wouldn't let his father kill her? Because he wanted to keep the connection? Did he still love her? And if he did, why did he say all those things the eve of their wedding? Could love last that long, unnurtured?

  She knew even as she thought the question what the answer was.

  Yes.

  Even after his betrayal, deep down she still loved him. It was sick, positively ridiculous, but it was forever. Their connection remained unbroken even after all the time, the space, the distance, the wars, and the fighting. It had somehow survived complete heartbreak.

  But he hadn't answered her question and that, in itself, was her answer.

  Her eyes flooded and she blinked back the tears. But she wasn't fast enough. A drop hit her cheek.

  She back peddled through the sand. The instant the connection was broken she flashed inside the cottage. The tears refused to be held back and a sob tore from her throat. Outside, thunder boomed and then a deluge of rain hit the tin roof. She stumbled into the master bathroom, her hands holding her up against the vanity.

  She heard Dameon over the rain, pounding on the front door and shouting her name. She wanted to scream but her throat wouldn't work. She could hardly breathe as it was. Her throat burned like she’d swallowed acid.

  How had she managed to screw up again? A few days in his company and he'd effortlessly stepped back into her heart. Worse, she'd started to hope. That tiny littl
e kernel wasn't as tiny as she'd hoped. It was massive. It was...

  She was so cold. So cold. Like the kind of cold that went soul deep.

  How stupid could she be? Why had she let him in? Why hadn't she escaped the moment she'd heard his voice again?

  That wicked voice.

  It tempted her. It teased her. It weakened her.

  Sniffling, she bit her lip and stumbled to the shower and turned the hot water on. How would she survive this time? He didn't want her dead but he didn't want to be bound to her either?

  She didn't bother to undress. Merely kicked off her flip flops and stepped into the spray. The hot water pelted her, washed away her tears, but she made more. Always more.

  And then it happened. Her throat opened up and she screamed. Loud. Long. No words, just sounds. Pain and sadness and hope left her in a shrill cry that would be heard around the island. It seemed the gods heard her.

  Outside lightning lit the sky a brilliant blue and thunder clapped in a show that rivaled her own display. The dark bathroom was bright with Mother Nature’s fury.

  She collapsed against the tile wall and let the sobs take her.

  Over everything she heard Dameon calling her name. He sounded close. Too close. It was just her brain playing tricks.

  She should have listened to her brain, not her silly heart. But she'd so wanted to believe. Believe in him. Believe in them, that time and circumstances had changed. His father was dead. Dameon had come back into her life with a flourish and she'd hoped. She'd believed that she could have what her coven mates had found.

  Happily ever after.

  Love.

  Passion.

  What had she done to deserve this? Why insist she marry him? Did he want what he'd been denied? Was it just a sick game for him? Marry her. Leave her. As long as they were bound she couldn't have children with anyone else. Was this payback for leaving him at the altar?

  And then it struck her. Children. He wanted children.

  Of course. He was wealthy, settled, head of his coven, at the very top of Vampire Society now. It was only natural that he’d want heirs. And she was the only one who could give them to him.

  She started to hyperventilate again and for the first time in her life she wished she wasn't immortal. She wished she wasn't so hard to kill.