“Trust in your heart. Trust in her. Help her.”
“Who?” he yelled.
Her presence faded and he struggled to hold on to it, struggled to keep her with him for just a little while longer. He missed her so much.
“Kayla,” he whispered.
“You belong with her, Julian.” Her voice came across stronger this time, more forceful.
He shook his head, intending to argue, but her presence was gone. A feeling of utter emptiness engulfed him, and he closed his eyes against the pain. Sounds invaded his mind, voices he couldn’t place, words he couldn’t decipher. A sense of danger crept through his chest, tightening his muscles. The smell of death and blood filled his senses and he growled, his fangs dropping into place as hunger and the need to feed raced through him.
Over a thousand years of instinct took over as he prepared for battle, for the vampires he could feel closing in around him. A woman screamed in the distance, calling him. He cocked his head to better listen, to try and pinpoint where it came from.
“She needs you, Julian.”
Julian awoke with a start and stared around the dusk-filled room, his body tense and ready for battle. What the hell was that? Once satisfied no one occupied the room with him, he relaxed and swung his legs off the bed. With a tired sigh, he stood and strolled naked to the window. Opening the thick velvet curtains, he watched as the last rays of sunlight dipped behind the mountains of his Romanian home.
A coldness permeated the castle as night fell, chilling his flesh. Below him, his gaze caught that of his friend, Andre. In wolf form, his white fur stood out against the darkening horizon, his gold-green eyes sparkling with intelligence.
“Are you up for some hunting, Andre?” he asked in his mind.
The wolf nodded, then turned to howl toward the moon. Although Andre never fed off their victims like Julian did, he enjoyed the hunt. The two of them would find a willing female, engage in a night of ménage sex where Julian would feed just enough to satisfy his hunger, leaving the woman dazed and remembering nothing of the night before except the sex.
It was a strategy that had worked well over the centuries, keeping suspicion at bay. Turning from the window, he tried to push the remnants of the dream from his mind. Kayla had been a powerful witch and could do many things, but he doubted contact from the dead was one of them.
Addison Gray strolled through the streets of the French Quarter, a feeling of danger wrapping around her like a cloak. The sensation of dread had begun with the dreams, dreams of a man with long black hair and eyes so deep blue they left her breathless, and a woman’s voice telling her “he needs you.” But around this man also lurked danger so strong it made her stomach tighten in fear.
The dreams were just one of many things that had begun to change in her life. Her mother was a witch, her father… Well, she had no idea who her father was, but she knew what he was. A vampire.
She knew the signs of change. She’d seen it before in other half-breed children. There weren’t many, and the change affected them all in different ways. Some became full vampires, sensitive to light and with a hunger for blood. Some merely carried the physical traits -- the ethereal beauty and fangs. Day walkers was what they were called. She had no idea yet what her fate would be; it had only just begun and she needed answers, help. And she knew just who to turn to.
Marcus Delacroix, half-breed son of witch Kayla Delacroix and vampire Julian Petri. Despite his status as a day walker, he was a close ally of the witch’s council, both very highly respected as a wizard and highly feared as a vampire. He and his wife, Tonya, would know what to do for her.
After two weeks of looking, she’d finally tracked him down to New Orleans. He had a house in the Garden District, just a few blocks from the French Quarter. She could hop the trolley and be there in less than an hour.
A sense of being watched ran through her, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She stopped and glanced nervously at the crowd. This feeling had plagued her for weeks now -- as though someone waited in the shadows, watching, calculating. She scanned the faces, seeing nothing in them that would cause her harm or fear. She shook off the sensation and picked up her pace toward the trolley stop.
Jumping onto the trolley, she took a seat toward the front and tried to think about what she would say to him.
I think I’m turning. I need your help? How do I tell if I will be full or half?
She hadn’t yet developed a sensitivity to light or a hunger for blood, but her fangs had descended twice now. Once when she was angry and once when she was afraid. Even now, she felt the urge rushing through her to snarl and bare her fangs. Taking a deep breath, she ran her tongue over the sharp edges of her canines. Blood filled her mouth from the shallow cut across her tongue. The warm, metallic taste made her sigh, and she tensed against the feeling of euphoria that coursed through her veins.
That had never happened. Was that one of the signs? Would she crave blood? Her lips tightened as her jaw set in anger. She didn’t want to change. She didn’t want to become a hunter, a feeder. She didn’t want to be ruled by the hunger, controlled by it. She had to find a way to fight this.
Julian licked his tongue across the bite mark of the young woman dangling between him and Andre. Both their cocks were buried deep inside her, his in her ass, Andre’s in her pussy. The warmth in her flesh faded as he sipped one last time from her neck, savoring the metallic taste as it surged through his own veins, quieting his hunger.
She shivered and he stopped before he went too far. She was already cold; it wouldn’t take much to kill her completely.
“It’s almost dawn,” Andre murmured. “You need to get back to the castle. I’ll take care of her.”
Nodding, he pulled his cock from her warm body and quickly grabbed his clothes. He’d clean up at home, then sleep. When he awoke tomorrow, his hunger would be gone, at least for a while. He could then focus more on this dream and the threat of war.
What war could it be? Sebastian had been killed two years ago, the threat to the witch’s council demolished with his death. Was it possible his followers had taken up where he left off?
The ramifications of such a war were staggering. Humans would no longer be ignorant of their existence. Wizards, vampires, werewolves would be brought from fantasy to reality. It was something Julian refused to accept, which unfortunately had become a minority opinion among the undead. Over the last few years, vampires had become bolder, no longer content to leave their victims breathing and cloudy of the night’s events. They wanted to taste the last drop, the sweetness that filled them as their victim’s heart jerked with its last beat.
Even Julian could admit to the euphoria that followed, but he’d learned to fight it, to resist. Others had not.
Stepping into the back door of his castle, he made his way quickly through the kitchen and dining area, then toward the foyer and the stairs that would lead him to his darkened bedchamber. As he entered the foyer, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He slowed, his gaze taking in the mahogany-paneled room and shining Italian tiled floors. Standing at the foot of his stairs was the cause of his sudden tenseness.
Her black cape covered her from neck to toe. Blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders in soft waves as she turned to stare at him, her eyes full of worry. It must be important if she would use magic to enter his home. Everyone on the council knew he forbade it. But for Rebecca, he would let it go.
“Madam Councilwoman,” he acknowledged, placing his hand on the banister and leaning on it slightly. As dawn approached, some of his strength began to vanish.
She made a face, crinkling her nose. “Rebecca, please.”
“All right. Rebecca. What are you doing here?”
“I know it’s late for you. But I need to ask you about Sebastian.”
Now it was Julian’s turn to curl his lip.
“I know that the two of you were…”
“Lovers?” he finished for her, his lips twitching
in amusement.
She sighed. “I’m sorry, okay. I just can’t picture a man as masculine as you having sex with another man.”
Julian chuckled. “I have sex with women too, more so than men.” He shrugged. “I get bored sometimes. Now what did you want to know?”
“Did he ever mention having a child to you?”
He stood straighter. “A child?”
“Yes. There’s talk of a blood rite. Please, if you know anything…”
Julian sat on one of the stairs and rested his elbows on his knees. Shaking his head, he replied, “Sebastian never mentioned a child.”
Rebecca sat down next to him with a sigh.
“What makes you think it’s Sebastian?” he asked.
“It’s a rumor. Other vampires have heard talk on the streets.”
Julian nodded, his own thoughts returning to his dream. Did the warning have something to do with this blood rite?
“Tell me something,” he demanded.
“What?”
“Can a witch make contact from the dead?”
She blinked in surprise, then her eyes narrowed. “Did Sebastian contact you, Julian?”
“No. Kayla did.”
“Kayla? But she’s been dead over four hundred years.”
“Is it possible?”
“Yes, through black magic. What did she say to you?”
He sighed and brushed his hair back off his shoulder. “She warned me of a war.”
“Then perhaps the talk is correct.” Her eyes widened. “We need to find that child. But we don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl.”
Julian pursed his lips, thinking back to the dream and all that was said. “I bet it’s a girl.”
Rebecca spun to stare at him. “Why?”
He smiled slightly, dreading what he knew was about to be dropped on his doorstep. “Because Kayla said, ‘she needs you.’”
Shaking her head, Rebecca’s pretty face scrunched into a frown. “She could have meant me…needing your help.”
“No,” Julian said, his shoulders drooping slightly. “She meant the child.”
“I can perform a spell and find her.”
He turned to look at Rebecca. She watched him expectantly, almost warily. She was such a beautiful woman and had grown as a witch so much in the last couple of years. With a nod, he relented and she smiled in thanks.
“Is there anything of Sebastian’s still here?” she asked. “I’ll need it.”
He inclined his head toward the upper landing. “Upstairs, third door on the right. When you’re done, I’ll be in my chamber.”
She nodded and headed quickly up the stairs.
Topping the Domme (Crime and Punishment) Page 22
