Written in Blood: A New Adult Vampire Romance Novella, Part Two. (The Unnatural Brethren Book 1)

by Silvana G Sánchez

  The city cast a shade on Parisian innovation and offered every commodity I had learned to fancy; it lacked, however, the sense of aesthetic one found so abundant in La Ville Lumière. But I offered no complaints. Teeming with unpaved narrow streets and dark alleys, London held the perfect scenery to hunt my prey.

  Out of one of those pitch-dark alleys, I emerged.

  Running the tip of my tongue over my lower lip, I gathered every drop of the dark elixir that sustained me. And as these remnants hit my palate, my nerves tingled with unavoidable pleasure. A hint of a smile surfaced on my lips. I drew out the silk handkerchief from my vest's pocket and dabbed clean the corners of my mouth before leaving the scene of my feast.

  The soothing warmth of the kill bathed every blood vessel in my unnatural body and kept me oblivious to the unforgiving cold sifting around me. The rush of excitement of my victim, I took into myself when I drank their fast-pulsing blood. Their fear was my gain; their doom, my blessing.

  Age stopped the minute I gave in to the Dark, as Dristan had promised. After twelve years of glorious darkness, I could attest to this fact with all certainty: my mortal clock had ceased its ticking at four-and-twenty.

  Strolling on the solitary streets at this hour amused me greatly. The stillness of the city granted me the precious opportunity to enjoy its many wonderful sights. The constant hum of the Thames' rushing waters delighted my senses and even the putrid stench of waste soiling its banks did not repel me, for it was all part of the city's decadent charm.

  Not before long, I came upon our neighborhood's streets.

  We had settled in Saint James Square, London's nec plus ultra vicinage, fashionable and on the rise.

  The scarce members of our service knew of my preference for the night hours. They were paid well enough not to ask questions; whether they wondered about my reasons for staying up so late in the evening and rising early in the afternoon, I cared very little.

  Without making a sound, I climbed upstairs, hoping to see her before she went to bed.

  In the beginning of our life together, Alisa had taken my nightly schedule as her own. I relished those wonderful evenings of endless hours spent in her company, engaged in conversations of the most inconsequential kind—which I adored, coming from her lips.

  Bliss beyond my expectations blessed the first years of our lives. Then, of course, the gradual withdrawal of her commitment installed itself for good, and she returned to her daily routines. And I understood the reasons behind her choice; after all, she was mortal. She needed to live in the light and enjoy her freedom to its utmost extent. She had every right to indulge in breakfasts with her friends, outings for lunch, and such other social affairs she so enjoyed.

  Never would I have been so selfish as to deprive her of these pleasures—and I knew she never would have allowed it if I had tried.

  In the brief years of my life as a vampire, I had learned shadows were my friends. With no trouble, I blended in their dark embrace. Shadows were my allies in the hunt, and tonight, I used them to play a harmless spying game as I drew closer to her bedroom.

  I stopped at the doorway, still as a statue. And from this spot, without revealing an ounce of my presence, I witnessed her evening routine.

  Wearing her long wavy hair down, she stood before the dresser's looking glass. Her delicate hands undid the strings of her corset with slow sewing waves cast in midair. The soft melody she was humming turned into the most prodigious chant as her lips parted.

  Delighted by the sound of her voice, I leaned against the door's jamb with arms folded over my chest and captured this moment deep in my heart.

  “O Solitude, my sweetest choice:

  Places devoted to the night,

  Remote from tumult and from noise,

  How ye my restless thoughts delight!”

  Her voice, immaculate and clear, conquered the melody's melisma with virtuosity. And without remedy, Purcell's hypnotic basso continuo played in my mind along with the words.

  In one indulging moment, I closed my eyes and removed all distraction of her tempting beauty. I satisfied my preternatural senses in the music, until I perceived true desolation in her song. By the time I opened my eyes, she had already slipped into her nightgown.

  Sitting on the dresser's small bench, she gathered her hair over her shoulder. And the melody reached its end as with clever eyes she spotted my reflection on the looking glass.

  “How long have you been standing there?” she said.

  “Not long enough...” I mused as I drew closer, “and I'm afraid I missed the best part.” I fiddled with her gown's fine lace between my fingers.

  “You are incorrigible!” While failing to repress her smile, she reached for the robe and slipped it on.

  “Am I?” My fingers smoothed over the soft silken sheets, cool and much pleasing against the overall warmth the blazing hearth provided nearby. I jumped on the mattress and clasped both hands behind my neck. “Why don't you try to discipline me and see what happens then?”

  “I am for bed,” she said, exhausted. “It's been quite a day.”

  “Well, my day is barely beginning,” I said, satisfied with myself.

  “I am well aware of it.” A hint of bitterness tinged her voice. She sat beside me.

  “Is something troubling you, my love?” I frowned.

  She pursed her lips. Not a good sign.

  “What is it?” I pressed with as gentle a manner as I could summon, though her silence drove me to the verge of madness.

  “Forgive me, I don't mean to be sour. It's just that... I hardly ever see you.”

  “I'm sorry about that,” I whispered. “My nights are long ones, dearest. You know that.”

  “What about the afternoons?”

  “My afternoons are sacrosanct. I daren't meet you until every shred of my unnatural hunger has reached satisfaction.” I paused as I held a lock of her hair. “I would never risk hurting you.”

  She bit her lower lip. Her vacant stare landed on her hands as they clasped over her lap.

  I sat on the bed. Such complaints had reached my ears many times before; but something told me this time, they were not to be dismissed so easily. The cold determination of her last words made this quite clear.

  “Alisa, what's wrong?” I grew impatient. I wanted an answer. But then, perhaps it would not be to my liking; perhaps I preferred silence after all.

  The minute she placed her hands on the mattress and her shimmering eyes landed on my own, I regretted ever asking such a question.

  “You know it well,” she mused. “I want a life I can share with you.”

  “What do you call this, then?” I opened my hands, palms facing the ceiling. Arrogance seeped through my every word.

  “I call it misery.”

  “I'd say that's a bit over the edge, isn't it?” I made a short quiet laugh, disguising my surprise with false amusement. “Surely, it cannot be all that bad.”

  “It should be better, you must see that.”

  “I know where this is going,” I mused, crossed and unwilling to continue this discussion. “And I don't like it at all.”

  “I no longer care whether you like it,” she said. “You will hear it, either way.”

  “This is not to—”

  “I want to be as you are.”

  “You mustn't say such things,” I said under my breath, the first sign of my waking temper.

  “It's the only way, Ivan. You know it as well as I do!”

  “Nonsense!” I rose from the bed. “I will hear no more of this.”

  “Don't leave!” On the verge of tears, she held my hands tight, all but falling to her knees. “Can't you see it, darling? We can be together, live the same life. All it takes is for you to share this Dark Blood with me.”

  In silence, I held her gaze, horrified by her request. For twelve years, we had lived in harmony—or so I had thought. Misery, she had called our life together. Misery.

  What she asked, my brain could not fa
thom. But more than that, my heart ached at the sight of her pain. Would I dare bring her into the realm of Darkness just to make her happy?

  “No,” I said.

  “You would refuse me?! Why?”

  Soft whispers drilled into my brain. A thousand voices gathered into one and its ominous sentence echoed in my skull.

  “You curse everything you touch!”

  Father's warning seeped into my ears when I least expected. The shadow of his portentous words shook every nerve in my being.

  “Ivan, answer me!” Her voice pulled me out of this wretched trance. I faced her and blinked twice before speaking.

  “I will not damn you with this curse.”

  “You seem to manage quite well, in spite of it.”

  I knelt before her and pressed her hands. “If you knew what horrors it truly entails,” I whispered, “you would not ask this of me.”

  “If you can live like this, then so can I.”

  I sighed. For a moment, I considered whether her desires aimed more towards proving we were equals, regardless of the matter of immortality.

  “Do you honestly believe that, dearest?” I paused. “I beg to differ. The coldness of taking lives night after night... I don't know that is in you, my love.”

  “Don't you understand?” she whispered. “I don't care. I will do anything to be by your side.”

  “I don't even know that I can...” I said dismissively as I rose from the floor and headed towards the door.

  “You must,” she said and her voice quivered. “Otherwise, you will lose me forever.”

  “Don't say that.” Her words constrained my heart. Did they speak the truth of her fears or were they meant as a threat? Was this her last resource to force me into doing that which by mere thought left me restless? I did not know. I only knew she suffered, and that was enough to make me consider her entreaty.

  I paced in the room.

  My father's words came back to haunt me.

  Had he been right all along and I, mistaken? Should I not have meddled in Alisa's life? Could she have found happiness by Pritchard's side? Torture. Absolute torture.

  The selfish pursuit of my own happiness had instigated my actions the day I took her with me. And in our silent agreement, in which we shared our lives, I had everything to gain while she had lost it all. Should she ever choose to leave me, at thirty-six years of age, her possibilities of marriage were quite dim, no matter how much the touch of time eluded her sweet countenance.

  What have I done?

  My world collapsed in that second. And I was the sole instigator of this tragedy. I was the one to blame.

  “It's true,” I mused. “I curse everything I touch...”

  I saw no way out of it. I owed her this bit of happiness, even if it meant taking her life and giving her a new one. But, would I be capable of doing it?

  “Ivan?” Her soft voice uttered the sweetest of pleas.

  “Take some time,” I begged. “Think it over—”

  “Twelve years have been enough time.”

  Twelve years... had it truly been that long? I returned to the bed and sat by her side. Holding her hand, my heart hectic beat found peace.

  “If I am to give you this,” I whispered, “you must understand what it means. Your days under the sun will be over. No food or wine will give your palate satisfaction. The blood...” A knot built inside my throat. “The blood of your prey will be your sole source of nourishment. You will hunt and you will kill, for this is our only means of survival.”

  She nodded and pressed my hand.

  As I smoothed away the locks of hair from her shoulder, unease stirred within my soul. What if I killed her unwillingly? What if my Dark Blood was insufficient to cast the transformation Dristan's blood had worked upon me? I refused to risk it, but I had no choice. I could lose her, either way.

  For years, I had dreamed of her forbidden blood streaming into my mouth in wave after wave of unparalleled euphoria. A decade of contained desires, which I had fought off my mind each passing night. If I was going to do this, I might as well enjoy it.

  My lips closed on hers. She returned my kiss, but unlike so many others we had shared before, this one tasted of sorrow, salted by her tears.

  Gliding my kiss down her neck, my lips sought the blessed spot where the carotid artery pulsed in a hypnotic rhythm. Redolent of youthful desire, the fragrance of her skin took me back to that first forbidden glance, the moment when our eyes had met for the first time, locked in a deeper meaning that escaped all conventions dictated by propriety. Her nearness aroused my every lingering desire, both manly and immortal.

  I embraced her with one arm, ready to lock her when the time came for her struggle. Alisa shuddered beneath my hold and her body stiffened, anxious for the unknown ecstasy that lay ahead.

  One more kiss. I eased my hand beneath her nightgown. My fingers smoothed over her legs and wandered upwards to her thighs. With this, I hoped to drive away her attention from my imminent lascivious bite.

  It worked.

  Her body yielded as my tongue followed the course of her jugular vein. Half an inch apart, my fangs pierced the flesh, landing on the precious artery. With unnatural strength, I held her fast throughout the first seconds of pain. A low cry escaped her lips, but the brief torment would be well worth the pleasure that succeeded.

  The first shot of crimson relief poured into my mouth. The moment it hit my palate, it delivered me to the gates of Paradise. I moaned in delirium.

  Clouded in this rapture, as she surrendered to my vampiric embrace, I took another mouthful of her precious blood. I wanted it all. It satisfied my every need and soothed my fears, leaving undeniable felicity as an aftertaste that rippled through my darkened soul. Such bliss had remained unknown to me thus far and could only be compared with that of the night of my making, which still did not measure to this experience.

  This was ecstasy in its purest form. A pleasure so great that it threatened to spoil for me all future delights. But no matter how much I wanted to pursue this drink, I had to stop. I did not want to kill her, not entirely.

  At this point, her heart's rhythm had slowed to a faint muffled beat. As she reached the threshold of death, I wondered if she would experience it the same way I did. Would she see him? Would Viktor materialize in this very room as the menacing specter that he was?

  My fearful gaze ran across the bedroom and found no trace of his presence.

  Oblivious to my worries, Alisa's conscience drifted between life and death. With gentle care, I laid her on the bed.

  “I know you can hear me, dearest,” I whispered in her ear. “I have taken much from you, my love. And now, it's time for me to make amends... This is my gift to you. Remember this moment. It will be your last as a human.”

  My fangs sank into my tongue. The minute blood gushed from the wound, I pressed my lips against hers, allowing every drop of my preternatural elixir to flow into her mouth.

  Weakened by my unnatural thirst, she returned my kiss. And as she swallowed that first drink, her eyes widened in astonishment. Strength came back to her as she pursued yet another mouthful. The beating of her heart regained its sturdy and steady rhythm. Her hand smoothed over my neck, her fingers playing with my earlobe, and beneath my kiss, she smiled.

  I parted enough to capture her expression of delight, relieved to know I had not killed her. But Alisa's gentle smile vanished soon. Taken by pain, her knees folded against her chest and an agonizing cry escaped her lips.

  I had forgotten about this part.

  “Stay calm,” I said, not knowing whether I sought her reassurance or my own. “The pain will pass. It's the Dark Blood. It's healing your body.”

  Her eyes went blank. In one violent shake, her body convulsed. And when that was over, her limbs relaxed into frightful stillness. After a little while, however, she opened her eyes.

  Then I saw it. I saw the change in her. It was as clear as daylight, as Juliette had once told me.

 
Her eyes caught every source of light within the room. The deep-blue shade that tinged her irises grew brighter. A soft radiance emanated from her skin, pale but warmed by the Blood. And though her cheeks tinged with rouge, a marmoreal texture sprung to my mind as I studied her complexion.

  The minute Alisa's gaze fixed on me, her pupils widened. Her hands reached for my face.

  “Are you unwell?” she whispered.

  Even her voice had changed. A light veil of darkness took over its depth and resonance.

  Fascinated as I was by her transformation, I gave the hint of a smile. She had just immersed herself in another realm, full of obscure and wondrous possibilities, and all she could think about was me.

  “Don't worry,” I said. A pair of young thieves or helpless peasants would be enough remedy for my present condition.

  I caressed her cheeks and kissed her lips. And as I parted but an inch away from them, I whispered:

  “Welcome to Darkness.”

  15

  One Last Lament

  Her body slipped away from my hands and thudded as it landed on the cobblestone street. One less whore on Drury Lane. No one would give a damn about her absence.

  I wiped my lips with the back of my hand and licked off the remaining blood from it. I hunted amidst the lowest of societies because my life had once fallen to such depths, and death in that instance could mean nothing but relief.

  Leaving her precious corpse in the alley behind, I quickly glanced across the street but saw no signs of Alisa.

  Where on earth was she?

  “Theater and dinner afterward,” she had promised. Well, the theater had shut its doors long ago. I had waited for her long enough until the hunger had awakened and burned every blood vessel in my body. It was then that my victim offered herself to me; she invited death for a stroll—and that can never have a pleasant ending, now, can it?

  It was as I roamed down Russell Street that I caught sight of her, a few feet away from the Theatre Royal. She was sitting on a bench with two others whose faces I failed to distinguish, immersed in the shadows.