by K Loraine
“I didn’t. Technically.”
“Sorcha, you touched her mind with yours. You know every time we use mind control, it’s as good as feeding when it comes to the building of a blood bond. You’re playing with fire and before long, you’ll come to crave her.”
Sorcha sniffed. “Like you do?”
Cashel looked at me. “Yes. Like I do.”
I allowed myself to wonder how many times he’d used his mind control power on me, because to my knowledge, it had only been once. But would I remember? Had he tasted me without my consent? That fear pushed its way through the spell Sorcha cast on me and my heart picked up its pace again.
“Let me go,” I said. “I have an appointment.”
I wriggled in his hold, but Cashel didn’t move a muscle. “Yes. You do. With me.”
His gaze burned into mine, and I saw the moment his cold mask slipped into place. “You?”
“I’ll be taking your donation. My father thought it fitting.”
My first thought was, at least he’d be with me, but then I pushed the ridiculous notion aside because I was about to willingly give my blood to a vampire. I sucked in a sharp breath and worked to control my rising heart rate. “Okay. Where are we doing this?”
He glanced over his shoulder toward the darkened hall. “The wine cellar.”
Instead of placing a palm on the small of my back as I’d grown accustomed to, he walked at my side, not touching me. “Where were you?” I asked.
“I needed…separation.” Again, those brows pulled together.
“From?”
“You. I needed to see if it would lessen the…pull I feel.”
Tension coiled between us with every step we took. “And, did it?”
“No.”
We reached the end of the hall and I frowned at the dark wood paneling. “There’s not a door here.”
With one small shove, he pushed on the wall and a click sounded. The panel opened, revealing a stone spiral staircase. “This way, little bird.”
The path was narrow and dark, and if I hadn’t been following him down, there was no way in hell I’d have taken a single step. “Cashel?”
“Yes.”
“This is a pretty serious wine cellar.”
“You have no idea.”
We continued down the spiral until we finally reached the flat stone floor. It smelled like damp earth and the ambiance was cold and quiet as a tomb. “Can you even drink wine? You’re a vampire.”
“We don’t store wine down here, Olivia.” The moment the words left his mouth, I understood. This place might be called a wine cellar, but it was definitely not. This was where they stored their blood supply.
“Oh,” I whispered. “I see.”
The hall was lit by soft golden light fixtures set into the wall. It should have made everything feel warmer. Instead, the effect was the opposite. Perhaps because I was starting the slow path to my eventual end. One day, I wouldn’t survive my blood donation. The question was, when would that day be? We reached a door, ornate carvings brushed with gold covering the surface. “You’re shaking,” he said, still not touching me.
“It’s cold in this damn house. But you wouldn’t know. You’re basically dead.” It was a low blow, but I owed them nothing. So far, all I’ve had is their word they are keeping me safe. I haven’t even seen the effects of my blood on them.
“You haven’t seemed to mind my temperature in the past.”
It was true. Maybe his hands were cold on my skin, but it didn’t bother me. All he did was arouse me. It didn’t matter that he was a vampire. His touch did something visceral to me that I couldn’t deny.
“I didn’t…I mean—”
“It’s time.” His interruption was welcome. I had no idea how to respond to him, until he opened the door and everything came into a sharp pinpoint of focus.
The ‘wine cellar’ was a sterile circular room, shelves all around, and each one was filled with vial after vial of red liquid. “Is that blood?” I asked.
“Yes. Vampires, remember?”
I nodded, trying to make myself keep calm. In the center of the room is a chair. Just a simple, cozy looking chair. But I know that’s where he’ll take my blood.
“Sit,” he said, gesturing toward the chair. “This will be easier if you are relaxed.”
I laughed, a nervous, high-pitched trill. “Relaxed. You think I can relax?”
“If you trust me, yes.”
“I don’t. You’ve given me no reason to trust you.”
He stood in front of me and reached out, touching me slowly. Fingers trailed over my cheekbone, down my throat, and over my collar. “And I can’t promise I will.”
“How are you going to do it?” I blurted the question, breaking the tension between us. “With your teeth?”
His brows rose and he dropped his hand from my skin. “No. If I fed from you, I’d end up fucking you against the wall and then I’d be punished with a stake through my heart.”
“Why?” My voice was breathier than I wanted, but the truth was, he said the worst things and I wanted him to do them all.
He stepped closer. I backed up. “Because you’re his.”
“And what if I don’t want to be?”
Fingers wrapped around my wrist and he tugged my hand behind my waist. Then he did the same with the other wrist.
“We don’t always get what we want.” He pushes me back until I have no choice but to sit. “I should know.”
9
Olivia
The needle barely hurt going in, but I flinched anyway. Cashel’s hands shook as he attached the vial and my blood filled the glass tube. One vial was replaced by a second, and I wondered how much he would take. But then he held a cotton ball to the needle and patched me up.
“That’s it? No more?” I asked.
His brow lifted in question. “Do you want me to take more?”
“No. I just…I thought this was going to be more difficult.”
“Not for you.” He wrote something on the tubes and slipped them into a leather pouch. Then he held out a hand. I took it and stood, feeling more at ease than I should have.
“I really thought you’d take more and leave me comatose on the floor.”
He raised the bag and said, “This is enough for now, until we’ve run some tests.”
“What?”
“Callie will test your blood in her lab. She’ll figure out how much we need and how often.”
My fingers touch the spot on my neck where Elias had taken his taste. “So how often will I have to make a donation?”
We left the room and made our way down the hall. “Once a week to start.”
“Will you do it every time?”
Our footsteps were the only sounds as we walked up the stairs. “Doubtful.”
The idea of another vampire touching me made my skin crawl. “I don’t want anyone else to take my blood.”
Cashel pressed on the panel at the top of the stairs and the door swung open. “We don’t have a choice.”
“So, am I banished back to my room? Or can I go get myself something to eat?”
The weight of his gaze had my breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Yes.”
“Yes, I’m banished?”
“Yes, you can go get something to eat. We’ve discussed this. You’re free to roam the house, little bird. You’re not a prisoner.”
I snorted. “That is exactly what I am.”
His exaggerated sigh betrayed his frustration. “Would you rather be dead? Because without me and my family hiding you, that’s what would happen.”
“No.” My tone was petulant, but I didn’t understand how to explain this. I was a caged bird with no allies. My only company was a bunch of cats who wanted to eat me for dinner.
He cupped my cheek before stepping back and dropping his hand. “Your blood is coveted by every vampire coven in the world. It’s like a siren call. It’s why your mother lived like a nomad. Every time you moved, it was to avoi
d being found.”
“I think you’re forgetting that by keeping me here, you’re denying me any kind of normal life. I can’t have friends, a job, fall in love…” I trailed off because the pain in Cashel’s expression stopped me.
“Love isn’t all it’s cut out to be, Olivia. It ruins more than it heals.”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I glanced down at my feet while gathering my thoughts. “That makes me sad for you. Have you really never thought love made you better?”
“All love did for me was break me.” He straightened his shoulders and pointed his gaze behind me. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to deliver your donation.”
I wanted to stop him, to ask him if he’d explain what he meant, but he was gone in a blur.
The house was eerily still as I walked down halls and explored rooms. I hadn’t taken the time to explore since my arrival, but now I knew, there wasn’t going to be an opportunity for me to escape, and I’d likely be murdered if I did.
After finding the kitchen, I made myself a sandwich and let the crushing silence settle over me. Where were they all? I’ve lived the last few days under the constant knowledge that there were hungry vampires lurking in the halls.
“He’s stronger than you give him credit for, Lucas,” Calliope’s voice carried through the open door to the library. It stopped me in my tracks.
“No, he’s not. I can smell the bonding all over him. He’ll have her bred before Father can get what he wants.”
“Would that be so bad? Maybe then we could keep her.”
Lucas snorted. “Keep her? You’re an idiot if you think she’s not going to be dead by the end of the year.”
My stomach churned, but still, I listened. “Cashel won’t allow that.”
“Cashel has no choice.” Lucas’s voice is filled with derision. “He never has, no matter how much he tries to assert himself. Father will kill her before he lets Cashel have something he wants.”
A sharp poke in my shoulder had me gasping before I could stop myself. I let out a squeak of surprise and turned to find Brenna standing behind me.
“Eavesdropping is dangerous in a house like this. You’re more likely to hear something you shouldn’t and end up in trouble, Olivia.” Her words were mixed with a hint of amusement and a lot of concern.
“I wasn’t—” I started, but stopped. I absolutely was.
The conversation in the library had ended, the silence heavy in the air. I’d been caught by more than Brenna. Calliope and Lucas stared at me through the open door.
“Well, come join us if you’re going to insert yourself in our conversation,” Lucas said. “After all, this concerns you.”
Brenna nudged me forward and I told myself this was no more dangerous than meeting Elias in the throne room when he first tasted me. They wouldn’t hurt me. They couldn’t.
“So,” I started, forcing myself to appear calm and collected. “Who is going to explain what bonding is?”
Lucas let out a cough of surprise and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re nothing if not direct.”
“It seems like vampires are nothing if not cryptic. If I want answers, I have to be direct.”
“Fair,” Calliope said. Then, she glanced at Lucas with a slight smirk. “I do like her.”
“Ugh, fine. But I’m not going to be able to do this without a drink.” He strode across the room, closer to me than I’d like and on instinct, I backed up until I hit the wall. Lucas laughed. “Calm down, darling, I’m not going to take a drink of you. We do drink more than blood.”
Relief washed over me as he went to a bar cart next to the first set of built-in bookshelves. From an etched crystal decanter, he poured a rich red liquid into three wine glasses. With a flourish, he held one out for me. I attempted to smell the contents of the glass without them noticing, but I failed. Lucas chuckled and lifted his glass.
“It’s wine. Nothing more.” Then he downed the contents and sighed. “Perfect. Rich and full-bodied.”
“Cashel didn’t mention you drank wine.” I took a sip and let the flavor roll over my tongue. “It is delicious.”
“Not quite as good as the real thing, but it eases some of the ache,” Calliope said. She licked a stray drop of crimson from her lips and I fought a shudder.
I settled myself on the velvet chair across from the fireplace and let my gaze roam the walls of books. Leather bound tomes of all colors filled the shelves all the way to the ceiling. How old were these books, I wondered? The house itself seemed centuries old based on the architecture alone. Taking another drink of my wine, I strengthened my nerve. Then, I stared at Lucas, who had joined me by the fire.
“So, bonding?”
He sighed. “It’s a sort of…connection. A claiming instinct, if you will.”
“Cashel is uncommonly protective of you,” Calliope interjected. “He’s fighting it, but he’s showing signs of a blood bond with you.”
“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean. He hasn’t fed off me.”
She shook her head. “That’s only part of it. But if you want to stay alive, you’ll fight your attraction to him. Our father has a plan for you, and it doesn’t involve a blood bond with anyone.”
“What would a blood bond do?”
Lucas stands and walks back to the bar, pouring himself another glass of wine. “It would make you his. Taint your blood for anyone else.”
Hope fluttered in my chest. “So, no one would want my blood?”
He shook his head. “They’d want it. But it would be useless. It would make them ill beyond belief, and you’d no longer be special. You couldn’t save us.”
I let that bit of information wash over me, hope and a plan forming in equal measure. “Then why put us together all the time? Why make Cashel do everything he’s had to do? Protect me, take my blood.”
Calliope huffed. “Because he can.” She perched on the arm of my chair and toyed with a strand of hair that had come loose from my braid. “Elias Blackthorne fears nothing more than losing power to his progeny.”
Humming softly in acknowledgment, I brought the wine glass to my lips and drained the rest of the red. The glass was pulled from my grip and returned completely full between the span of my breaths. At least vampires were good for something. I’d never go thirsty again as long as Lucas was here to dispense wine.
As the hours passed, I fell into comfortable conversation, forgetting these two vampires could easily kill me. I simply let myself be…relaxed, because there was nothing else I could do.
My eyelids drooped as fatigue won out over all else. I yawned and stretched. “How do you guys manage to stay up all night? This is so hard, and I slept most of the day away.”
Calliope sighed. “That’s a typical human for you. Assuming everyone is on their schedule. You may never get used to this. Some of our humans have adapted, others…struggled and ended up leaving us.”
“Did they leave on their own, or because you killed them?” My question was harsher than I’d intended, but the combination of wine and exhaustion made me careless.
“I’ve never killed anyone.” Calliope got to her feet and dumped her wine into the fire. The flames hissed and crackled in protest, dimming as the liquid doused them before they flared back to life.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean—”
“Not all of us are cold-hearted killers, Olivia. In fact, most of us aren’t.” Her eyes narrowed and she left the room without another word.
Lucas stared on with frustration clouding his expression. “You just had to take a perfectly good cocktail party and shit all over it, didn’t you?”
Then he left me too. The doors clicked shut, and I was alone, with only the dying fire and countless books to keep me company. I stayed until all that was left in the hearth was glowing embers, and finally made my way into the hall. I wanted nothing more than to go to bed, my limbs ached from a weariness in my bones I’d only felt a few times in my life. But if I was going to adjust to this
new schedule, I knew I had to stay awake for a few more hours.
The click of my shoes on the floor echoed off the walls, the cadence of my footsteps in rhythm with my heart. I roamed, learning the pathways of the estate, the sprawling rooms filled with antique furniture, walls lined with oil paintings—portraits of Blackthornes I recognized and some I didn’t. I could only assume the portrait of a dark-haired beauty that hung next to the shiny black grand piano was Cashel’s mother. She looked just like him.
A pang of sympathy went through my heart, taking me back to the moment I lost my mom. It never stopped hurting. They say time heals the wounds, but really, all it does is stop the bleeding.
I dragged my fingertips over the heavy ivory and ebony keys of the piano and closed my eyes as I played a chord. The perfect notes blended together and filled the room. Sinking down onto the bench, I let my hands take over and play. The music flowed through me, and soon I was lost in a sea of emotion, all coming to life through the notes I played. I let myself go, gave in to the comfort and heartache and desperation that all warred within me. A torrent of passion and pain filled the room dressed up as beautifully melancholy music.
When the last notes faded, I opened my eyes, and my heart caught in my throat at the sight of Cashel standing at the other end of the room. His brows furrowed and expression pensive.
“Did you deliver the package?” I asked, derision in my tone.
He didn’t answer, instead he shoved his hand through his hair and strode across the room until he was leaning on the end of the piano.
“You’re quite the pianist. I wouldn’t have guessed someone with such an unstable upbringing would have had time to learn how to play an instrument with such…truth.”
Standing, I shrugged. “There’s a lot you don’t know.”
“So tell me.”
I rolled my eyes not wanting to go into detail about how hard my mother worked to ensure I had lessons wherever we went. Or tell him about the keyboard I drew on the remnants of an old box so I could practice when mine was stolen and we couldn’t afford to buy a new one. He wouldn’t care. He’d probably use it against me in some way. “Why? I’m not important to you. You’re only here because your father said you have to keep me safe. I’m a job.”
