Rogue

by Eden Bradley

  “Drown him in the sea,” Chiara suggested. “It is the only appropriate sentence.”

  “Do you not think that is a bit harsh?” Ramsey asked, his chest tightening. He couldn’t stand to imagine the beautiful young vampire dead at the bottom of the ocean. He licked his lips, his pulse racing.

  He must have spent too many years on the planet in this half-life, because his mind was not working properly. Perhaps he was beginning to lose his lucidity, as sometimes happened to the older vampires, even though at just under three hundred years he was not nearly old enough. That was the only explanation he had for the way Rogue enthralled him. Obsessed him. He hadn’t felt this way—thought this way—about another vampire ever before. For anyone, vampire or human, since he’d lost his dear Benjamin. That loss had been the last one, he had sworn it. Attachment was loss, was it not? He would not risk that again—and certainly not over some intractable dissident. Yes, there must be something very wrong with him.

  “Ramsey?” Aleron raised a pale brow at him.

  “Yes? Ah, my apologies.”

  “I was saying I agree he must be punished,” Aleron said. “Do you not think it is so?”

  “Yes, of course. But the question remains to what degree?”

  “I believe we must take into account his youth,” Aleron went on. “The fact that although there appears to have been intent, no crime was actually carried out other than climbing the wall, rather than registering at the door. He is perhaps a bit immature and oddly motivated. But these things do not make him a danger to us. Few things are.”

  “Few things,” Storm agreed. “But we must consider Aleron’s wise council. What is to be our decision?”

  “Drown the scoundrel,” Chiara said, her lips in a dark red pout.

  “That is out of the question!” Ramsey insisted.

  “Why? Because you have fucked him?” Chiara’s dark brows were a perfect arch of scorn over her gleaming dark eyes. “That is beneath you, Ramsey, a member of this Council. And do not attempt to deny it—I can smell him on you. I am certain we all can.”

  “You would have yourself, had you seen him, Chiara,” Ramsey grumbled.

  “He’s a pretty one, then?” Bastien asked.

  “Beyond pretty,” he answered, the words sticking in his throat. If any of them thought to get their hands on him… “This is my club. I do not choose to drown him for his crimes against me.”

  “A sentence,” Strom demanded. “We have more important matters to discuss. Chiara, drowning is off the table. I agree with Aleron’s assessment, and Ramsey’s, as well—the terms do not fit the crime.”

  She folded her arms once more and pouted.

  “Do you have another suggestion you’d like to offer, Chiara, my dear?” Aleron offered, ever the mediator.

  “What about the Capture Gardens?”

  “The Gardens?” Ramsey let out a short laugh. “The Capture Gardens are for sport with human prey. We have never run a vampire in the Gardens”

  “And therefore the ultimate in humiliation.” A wicked smile spread over Chiara’s lovely face. “The perfect penance to teach this young instigator some respect for the Council’s laws. If we cannot drown him that is the next best thing. Better, perhaps.”

  “Oh, I do love that,” Dane put in. “And if it will entertain our Chiara…”

  He stroked a hand under her chin and Ramsey could almost hear the deep purr in the back of her throat. Not many could match Dane’s talent for soothing raw nerves.

  Aleron looked at Ramsey. “This could be an excellent solution.”

  Ramsey looked to Bastien.

  “I like it. Entertainment for us, reparation for him. Perfect.”

  Lord, to see him run in the Gardens, the vampires chasing him, taking him down… No, it would have to be him who took Rogue down.

  Had to be, damn it.

  “We are in agreement,” Ramsey said. “Julian, have Adriana bring our guest to us in the morning.”

  Rogue had been allowed to feed last night—one of the club’s human supplicants, a gorgeous female, but he had no interest in her other than her blood. No, his mind—his body—kept going back to Ramsey’s beautiful dark skin, the rough touch of his hands, the command in every gesture, in the way he took him with his cock.

  He groaned, hard again in an instant.

  He pressed a hand to his erection through the leather trousers the sour Julian had brought him along with the human offering. But at least he’d fed, which had improved his mood considerably. That, and seeing how miserable it made Julian to have to be the one to wait on him.

  He had a distinct dislike for that vampire.

  He heard footsteps and moved his hand from his cock. But the moment he caught Adriana’s scent he moved it back, lounging with one foot propped against the wall behind him, smiling at her.

  “Join me, my beauty?”

  She laughed and shook her head, aware as he was that his flirting—at present—was harmless.

  “Are you certain I can’t tempt you? Ever had sex in a prison cell?”

  “I have not. And I’m certain I don’t need to. Behave yourself, Rogue.”

  “You have no idea what you’re missing.” He stroked the hard ridge of his cock through the leather. “Truly, you have no idea. And I’m not terribly good at behaving myself, but I believe you already know that.”

  Her lips quirked. “I do.”

  He pushed away from the wall and stepped closer to the heavy iron bars, lowering his tone. “I think you like that about me.”

  “I think you’re right. Though I am also as certain you use this ruse on everyone. The tempting rogue who never met a taboo he didn’t embrace.”

  He shrugged, tilting his head to study the insightful beauty. “You’re lovely. Can you blame me for trying?”

  “You’re pretty enough yourself that I might be insulted if you didn’t. Sadly, I am not here to flirt with you, nor you with me. A decision has been reached.”

  He steeled himself. He’d heard stories of the harsh punishments the Council set down to

  their own kind, how strictly they enforced their laws—which had always made slinking around their grand clubs all the more exciting. He’d been angry and resentful his entire life as a vampire—lonely, even, if he were being honest with himself. But had he ever really wanted to die? Had he ever been forced to actually face the question?

  His throat was closing, but he forced himself to maintain his usual playful expression. “Are they to kill me? If so, you must provide me with my dying wish.”

  “Which is what?” she asked, her fingers twirling in the end of her long braid.

  “If I am to die, then give me one last fuck to send me to the true eternity with.”

  She laughed once more. “Oh, how I would love to, young one, but I have my instructions.” She unlocked the cell and drew back the heavy gate. “Come along with me.”

  “Where are we going, beauty?” he asked, following her up the stairs.

  “To the Council. They await you in the Capture Gardens.”

  He’d heard of the famous Gardens. Everyone had. It was made for vampires to hunt humans. To indulge in sex and blood and sport—to indulge in their predatory natures. “Why would they take me there?”

  She spoke softly, somberly, and he swore he heard a faint trace of pity. “Tonight you will be the hunted, Rogue.”

  “What?” He stopped at the top step and grabbed her arm, rage beginning to burn in his stomach. “They can’t fucking hunt me. I’m a vampire. I cannot be run with humans.” He ground his jaw until it hurt. To be put on display with humans! “I will not.”

  “Oh, you will be run alone.”

  Did that make it better or worse? “I don’t understand.”

  Except that he did understand suddenly in a blinding, mind-fucking flash. No vampire was run in the Capture Gardens. None ever had been. This was being done to humiliate him. To make him understand—crushingly—his low place in their hierarchy.

  Had
this been Ramsey’s idea? He didn’t want to believe it.

  Well, he may be a ‘young one’, but he was not going down without one hell of a fight—the likes of which had never been seen in their precious fucking Gardens.

  Adriana laid a hand on his arm. Her dark gaze was earnest. “Rogue, I can see your anger, but do not let it stop you from heeding my warning. There is a woman on the Council—the head of the Midnight Playground club in Rome—she is old and very strong, and her appetites are more violent and cruel than most. You must be certain not to let Chiara catch you. Any of the others are fine. But she…she is vicious. She would happily tear you apart simply to amuse herself.”

  “If she is so strong how will I avoid her?”

  “In the first half of the Gardens they may all give chase, depending upon their mood. The rule is that they can catch you, bite you, perhaps drink from you. It may be that several of them do so. They are all old, some ancient. They are very strong, Rogue. Do whatever you can not to let them drink so much from you that you are unable to run in the second half of the Gardens. They rarely do so with a human, but with you…this will be a different game to them. They cannot take you down to ground until the second half, which you will know once you have left the sculpture garden and passed the second gate. At that point I am certain at least several of them will be vying for the opportunity. Be very careful about who takes you down.”

  They would drink from him…take him down.

  Ramsey…

  “Are you suggesting I can avoid her initially by allowing one of the others to catch me first?”

  Would Ramsey give chase?

  Adriana nodded. “I am telling you that you must. I understand she called for your death and she hates being thwarted. There are ways we can be killed without drowning or suffocation, Rogue.”

  Fuck. Then he would most certainly die tonight after all.

  “I understand.” He watched her for several moments. “I don’t know why you’re doing this. But thank you.”

  She smiled. “You are welcome. I would prefer to see you live another day, young one. And I do not believe I am alone in that desire.”

  He reached out and stroked a hand over her the curve of her flawless cheek. “You’re very kind. I…don’t believe I’ve encountered that before.”

  She pressed her cheek into his palm, her skin cool and silky. “Perhaps because you have never allowed anyone to be kind to you.”

  “Or you simply have a soft spot for pretty young deviants.” He smiled absently, unwilling to acknowledge her words. He had more important matters to think of. Like survival. “How many can capture me in the first half of the course?”

  She shrugged, studying him. “As many as are able and want to. They will let you up, of course—that’s the sport in it, to take you down over and over.”

  He couldn’t help the grin on his face. “That sounds as if it could be interesting.”

  “As long as it is not Chiara. You must take me seriously, young one.”

  “Oh, I do. Trust me. But in avoiding her I could make for an interesting challenge for the Council, and I must admit the idea appeals to me.”

  She laughed, shaking her head. “You really are a rogue. And far too confident. You will not have time to charm them all while you run for your life.”

  “And you really are a beauty, but one that underrates my unique skill at and desire for self-preservation.” He moved closer, until his lips were right next to the shell of her ear. Until he could hear the way her breath sped up as he pressed closer. He said quietly, “Perhaps if I get through this punishment alive you would consider me. I have a very dexterous tongue, you know.”

  He flicked it at her ear, catching the velvety lobe and curling the tip of his tongue around it.

  “Mmm, I do hope you survive the course. But for now, go. And heed what I’ve told you.” She gave him a push on the chest, her superior strength rocking him back on his bare heels. “Through that gate and into the holding pen.”

  “Holding pen? Oh, they really must be joking.”

  But he went, the gravel path uneven beneath his feet.

  The holding pen was exactly that—a large square cage of sorts, with evenly-spaced iron bars that stood a good twenty feet high. It was open at the top, shafts of sunlight making a pattern of shadows on the concrete floor. It reminded him of the gladiator cages in old Rome, so much so that he could almost expect a lion to spring out, jaws wide, fangs glistening in the bright sunlight.

  He looked up to see that all around the pen were terraces made of gleaming white marble with large cornerstone pots spilling with flowers, every detail unutterably luxurious. Such a contrast to the world he lived in—the streets of all the big cities in Europe. The dirt and the gunfire. The bombings and fear. The scent of death everywhere.

  The scent of death was here…or perhaps it was only in the uneven jackhammer rhythm of his heart that told him with every beat today was his day to die.

  He shook his head. He would remember what Adriana had told him, search for any opening, any moment of distraction on the part of the old vampires. He would find ways to create it. It was his only hope. That and perhaps Ramsey.

  Was it his imagination that the vampire who ran this place had some feeling for him? Was he being a fool?

  Focus.

  He searched the view once more. Behind the marble terraces he could see more of them in various levels marching up a hillside that was gorgeously landscaped, all of which he took in with a quickly darting assessment. It was a lovely and threatening place. But what interested him more were the members of the Council, who were scattered over the terraces singly or in pairs. They were all beautiful, exotic even to him in their stunning beauty. He could sense the age of them, could almost smell the earthy scent of a truly ancient one among them. Several of the males were dressed in leather, as many vampires were prone to—leather pants and flowing white linen shirts. The black and white reminded him of the stories of the Ascot races, with everyone gorgeously dressed in formal black and white attire on opening day.

  This would be a race. But one far more dangerous than the old horse races at Ascot, and the prey who ran here would earn no prize but death.

  He caught Ramsey’s gaze—he was staring hard at him. He was even more impossibly beautiful in the light of day, the sun glinting in his black hair, touching his skin with gold. He was unblinking, his expression was shuttered, unreadable.

  Perhaps he had been making up something about Ramsey feeling something…

  All right. If he was going to play this game with them—and it seemed he would—then he was going to give them the chase of their long and wicked lives.

  He sauntered to the gate, which led to the path lined with marble statues and fountains. Everything was lit from below with gold and amber lights, casting shadows onto the gravel path even in the daylight. The tiered fountains spilled with music into their mossy bowls, and close-cut grass lined the gravel path. The statues were all of nudes, many embracing couples. Upon closer inspection he saw that some had fangs bared, about to bite into their stone lovers’ necks. Exquisite. And no surprise in this place of utter decadence. A pretty place to die, but he intended to do his best not to.

  Don’t let them see your fear.

  Story of his life. Perhaps more important now than it had ever been.

  Leaning against the gate, he crossed his ankles, set his hands on his hips. “I’m ready any time you are.”

  “Ha! You will be ready when we are ready,” the tiny, beautiful Chiara told him.

  He made a small bow in her direction. “As you wish, my Italian queen.”

  “I am not your queen. I am not your anything,” she fumed.

  “Not yet.” He winked at her and she growled audibly.

  “Rogue,” Ramsey called, “I shall introduce you to the Council—a courtesy to them, not you. You have already met Chiara. Next to her is Dane. Across from me are Storm and Bastien. And at my side is Aleron. I assume you have heard enoug
h in your travels to know who they are.”

  “I know exactly who they are, all of them. They are all infamous even in my lowly circles. And I know who you are, Ramsey.”

  “Careful, young one. Save your energies for what awaits you.”

  Rogue held out his arms as if to embrace them all. “My stamina may surprise you. Well, perhaps not you, Ramsey.” He gave him a wink, which made Ramsey frown. “I am simply passing the time with pleasant conversation until we begin.”

  Chiara leaned over the balconied edge of the terrace, every muscle in her body tense as a wire, practically shouting her impatience. “We begin now. Run, young one! Run!”

  Chapter Four

  The gate slid open and he turned to spring out of it as Chiara pounced. His heart hammered as he ran, recalling Adriana’s warning and knowing his behavior had done nothing to ease the viper’s temper.

  But it was Storm who took him down first.

  He felt the uncountable years of the ancient vampire before he even reached him—incalculable age that left him breathless. This one could kill him with a snap of his fingers. Then Storm was on him, his hands gripping him like iron stocks. He couldn’t have moved if he’d wanted to. But this part of the hunt intrigued him—being hunted in itself, which raised such a fury in him he could barely contain it. But along with the rage was excitement. That they hunted him, as he had hunted the deer…

  They would drink from him…take him down…

  Storm whispered in his ear, “I am sure you will be delicious, our young Rogue.”

  His teeth sank into Rogue’s throat, and he felt the sweet and vicious bliss of that Seeking Kiss. Pain and surrender—oh, yes, surrender to this being of enormous power. It was an aphrodisiac like none he had ever encountered. That and the idea of being toyed with in this way. Oh, yes, his cock was hard as steel and ready, needing.

  Storm bit deeper, tearing at his flesh, and he moaned in pain and pleasure. The older vampire pulled back, a grin on his sharp-featured yet exquisite face, Rogue’s blood staining his lips.

  “You are a prime piece, I’ll give you that, Rogue. Under other circumstances…”