Eternally Bound

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Tatiana glanced at Marcello. He said nothing, did nothing, only watched.

  Jirí crossed to Leandro and reached down for him. Lifting his child gently to his feet, Jirí brushed off his coat. It was as if no anger had passed over the old vampire’s features. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, Jirí tenderly wiped the blood from Leandro’s mouth. His face shone with love as he looked at his benighted child.

  “It is not well done of you, Leandro,” Jirí said. “You shouldn’t have stolen one marked by Marcello. But, what is done is done.”

  “I don’t relinquish my mark on her,” Marcello stated.

  “Nor do I,” Leandro said, meeting the challenge in his brother’s gaze.

  “Don’t I have a say?” Tatiana asked. All three men turned to her, amused.

  “No,” Jirí said dismissively. Then, to the brothers, he added, “There is no other choice. You will share her until one or the other relents.”

  “I will never relent,” Marcello said.

  “Nor will I,” Leandro said.

  “Then, witch, it would appear you have two guardians.” Jirí laughed, and Tatiana saw that her situation greatly amused him. The dark sound did not give her hope. Jirí looked them all over. “I don’t know who I pity more of you three. Her, because she is bound to listen to your arguments as I once was. Or you both, for her Moroi blood combined with her witch blood will make her strong and difficult to control. It is a job I don’t envy.”

  “Moroi?” Tatiana asked.

  “Your vampire tribe, my child,” Jirí stated. “Don’t worry. You have two masters that shall explain your new world to you. I shall imagine your visions will grow, for our line is adept at reading people.”

  Tatiana grimaced. She didn’t want her visions to grow.

  Jirí frowned, tilting his head. “I smell new death and not of the grave.”

  “It is her spirit,” Marcello said quietly. She studied his rigid face, but he did not look at her. “It follows her.”

  “Ah, I can see why you were weakened into changing her, Leandro. She is truly an oddity, is she not?” Jirí sighed. Then, looking around at the group, he shook his head in what looked like pity. “I go to speak with the tribal council. I will tell them of this. They will not be happy. Don’t give them cause to voice their displeasure, or me mine.”

  With that warning, Jirí turned and walked out the open door as if he’d never been there.

  “Will...will he be back?” Tatiana asked, shivering. She edged closer to Marcello. He blinked in surprise, looking down to where her hand gripped his arm.

  “No. So long as we don’t give him cause,” Leandro said. He looked at her hold on his brother and scowled. Instead of commenting, he stated darkly, “I will have food brought to us and separate chambers readied. It appears as if we will be living together for a long while.”

  When they were alone, Tatiana turned to look up at Marcello. “Let’s go. Let’s just run away from here.”

  “We can’t,” Marcello stated. His firm expression relented some when he gazed into her tormented vampire eyes. “To do so would mean our deaths.”

  “You would have us stay here? With Leandro?” Tatiana asked. “Please, let’s go back to Paris and start anew, or to England, to my home. Let’s just leave. With your knowledge and strength combined with my heritage, surely we can defeat—”

  “All the tribal leaders? The only known start of us all? Eight of the most powerful vampires known to exist in this world?” Marcello asked. “No, bella mia, there is no escaping. Eternity is too long a time to run.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Leandro stepped down the front steps of his hall, moving with liquid grace and beauty. His hooded eyes fell on Jirí. He wasn’t surprised to see him. He’d heard the old vampire’s beckoning in his head. Leandro was loath to leave Marcello and Tatiana alone, having felt the spark of desire between them, which they both tried to suppress from the other. Just as he knew she loved his brother, Leandro knew she would never love him. He did not want her love, but he jealously did not want Marcello to have it. It was the only reason he kept his hold on her.

  “What is your old saying? Ah, yea,” Jirí said. “Bacco, tabacco e Venere riducono l'uomo in cenere. Wine, women, and tobacco reduce one to ashes.”

  “So does a stake,” Leandro mused softly, reaching the bottom step and stopping to study his vampiric father.

  Jirí chuckled. “So true. You were always the funnier of the two, my son.”

  Leandro’s thoughts turned to his brother. However, he remained still, watching the motionless Jirí stare back at him.

  “The past must die,” Jirí said. His hands threaded neatly behind his back. They were both elegant, graceful creatures—well dressed, poised, handsome, eternally in the prime of their appearance. “He was too young to know better. The hunger had been denied too long. Marcello couldn’t help that he killed her. Besides, why pine for a whore?”

  “She was mine,” was all Leandro said. He knew his eyes filled red with blood, just as he knew the demonic showing wouldn’t give Jirí a moment’s pause. For a brief instant, the last bit of his humanity stirred in Leandro. Revenge. Anger. Hatred. That was all he had left of his human self. If he let it go, he would surely lose that last shred of emotion that kept him alive. Then his life would turn as hollow as his grave and twice as empty. He needed his hatred, his rage, his bitter thoughts. He needed Tatiana, for possessing her quickened him. For as long as she was his, Marcello couldn’t have her completely.

  “I can’t force you to give up your benighted child,” Jirí said, “but I can warn you against her. She is not for you, my son. Her strength is rare, strange.”

  “And she won’t be for him,” Leandro said, his voice hot, but ever calm and deadly. “He won’t have that which I was denied.”

  “He has what you never had,” Jirí growled. His graceful body plowed forward, grabbing Leandro by the arms in a rare act of desperation. “She was a whore, a common whore. If Marcello had not killed her, I would have. I wouldn’t have let you keep her.”

  “She was my fiancée,” Leandro said. When he looked at his vampiric father, he felt many things, love, hatred, admiration, bitterness, resentment. “You took me the same night I proposed to her. She was mine.”

  “I saved you from a mediocre existence and a short, pointless mortal life,” Jirí said, gently, tenderly, almost lovingly. “I gave you immortality, power. Because of me, you have known more than any simple mortal could. I gave you life.”

  “No, my father, you gave me death.”

  “Yet, you don’t resent me for it,” Jirí stated, with a knowing look. He set his hand on Leandro’s shoulder, lightly touching him in the closest thing to an embrace either vampire would allow between them.

  “No, my father, I don’t resent you. Death has lent itself nicely to my nature.”

  “The same can’t be said for your brother.” Jirí’s eyes moved up to the ceiling where he could sense Marcello. “Until now. She brings peace to him. Surely you have felt it. Methinks it wasn’t wise to have changed her, but her presence does calm Marcello’s demon. It is odd, but I felt it immediately. If I had a human’s heart, I should be jealous of it.”

  “Yes,” Leandro said. “But that is no reason to acknowledge his claim. She is dead. His bond on her is broken. She should be mine.”

  Jirí’s smile was grim. “I would agree, but for one thing. I felt Marcello’s effect on her too. When you took her to the den of the lycans, she was crazy, was she not?”

  “How—?”

  “I saw it in you and in her when you drank from her vampiress’ neck,” Jirí said. “I read it in her mind. She is strong, but I saw her secrets. Without Marcello, she is broken. If you take her from him, I fear there will be no controlling her. My first impulse was to kill her, and I would have, but for one thing.”

  “What?” Leandro asked, needlessly. His eyes were hollow as he looked at his maker.

  “The lycan blood in her. T
o kill her when she has the protection of both councils—the vampiric and the lycan—would be most foolish. She is protected. Besides, she is the last of her witch’s line. If the powers have returned, so then must the evil they have faced. There is a reason this has all come to pass. The future is uncertain for all. The only thing I know for sure is that we will all be around to see it.”

  “Come, you must stay awhile in my home. The council will wait. What is another day or two for those who have an eternity?” Leandro moved, forcing Jirí’s hand to drop from him as he walked across the hall floor. The orange glow of candlelight burned brightly around them. Leandro did not like the modern use of gas lamps. He did not like change and longed for his lost human world with every beat of his immortal heart. That is why he preserved his family home, never changing it, but for necessity.

  “For a few days,” Jirí allowed.

  “Ah, then it is settled,” Leandro said, his voice lightened as if nothing more than a simple greeting had passed between them. He pushed open a door where Ettore stood. Cool brown eyes studied him from the human face. Leandro said, under his breath, “Bring the girls.”

  Ettore bowed and left, knowing his duties.

  Leandro let the door shut once more and turned to Jirí. “I will have a room readied. Please, feel free to have your pick of my stock. I have their loyalty. There is no need to mesmerize them unless you wish. They are all most willing to allow us to feed and attend our kind.”

  “Such a gracious host,” Jirí murmured in approval.

  Leandro smiled. The door opened behind him, and a long line of servants came through to stand before the vampires. They were all young, beautiful. Some smiled boldly, meeting the pale creature’s eyes with excitement. Others watched their feet, shy and embarrassed. A slender, fair-haired woman was the only one who trembled in fear. Jirí smiled to see her.

  Leandro instantly stepped forward. Taking the frightened woman by the arm, he said gently, “Come, show my guest to his room.”

  Her wide blue eyes looked up at Leandro before turning to Jirí. When it became clear that she wouldn’t move on her own, Jirí’s eyes glimmered, and she instantly went limp.

  “Come,” Jirí whispered. His expression was tender as he held his hand to her. She took it, walking up to him without thought or hesitation.

  “Go with them,” Leandro said to an amply curved redhead.

  “Yes, my lord,” the woman answered with an inviting smile. He watched as Jirí led the two women up the stairs, his arm about the slender blonde’s narrow waist.

  Then, turning, Leandro said, “You three, stay with me.”

  The unchosen women turned to go, leaving the way they came. Leandro let a slow smile curl his lips in invitation. He spread his arms and the three women he’d picked rushed to him with feminine pants of excitement. Their hands grabbed hold of his body, willingly touching and caressing him as if he were a god. He did not lead them from the hall, knowing they wouldn’t be disturbed.

  One very pretty girl wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts firmly against him. Feeling his arousal, she moaned and settled her hips into it. With a twist, she offered her neck.

  “Take what you need, my lord,” she whispered in a sultry vixen’s tone. “I offer it to you freely.”

  Leandro bit into her neck, and she moaned, loud and long. His fingers tore the gown from her breasts, baring them. His cool fingers curled around the globes, feeling their weight, massaging passion into her blood so that he may taste of it. The second woman moved along his back, hugging herself to him as she ran her fingers over his shoulders, chest, into his hair. The third servant kneeled, moving herself between Leandro and his meal. Her hands ran up his thighs to his waistband only to free his long erection. She instantly took it into her mouth, sucking her master with pleasure. Leandro groaned, euphoric, drinking deeper.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  “Did you miss me at all?” Tatiana stared at Marcello, wondering where the question had come from. She did not mean to say the words aloud, but now that they were out, she couldn’t take them back.

  Marcello looked at her, eyeing her pale face, so changed, so beautiful still. Slowly, he turned his back to her and whispered, “Yes.”

  Tatiana felt as if her heart was about to fall from her chest. There was so much she wanted to say, to know from him. At that moment, she couldn’t force the words past her lips. None of it mattered. Not her death and rebirth, not the past between them. She needed him as he needed her. They were connected. She felt his blood within her, stirring her passion, her longing.

  “Marcello,” she whispered, going to him. She took his arm and pulled. His eyes met hers in a locked embrace. “I am glad it wasn’t you who killed me.”

  He started to pull away, but Tatiana refused to let him go. She rose up on her toes, thrusting forward so forcefully that she knocked him back across the floor. He remained on his feet, skidding over the solid stone as she kissed him with fiery longing. Her fangs nicked his lips, and she deepened her assault with a moan of pleasure.

  “I love your taste,” she whispered passionately into his mouth. “I want more of it. I want all of it. Give it to me.”

  Marcello growled and pushed her roughly back. He glared at her, the red of blood filling his gaze. She saw that he wanted her, but was torn. “You taste of my brother’s blood. You reek of him.”

  “It was destiny for the three of us to join. Leandro has taken my mortal life. You have everything else of me,” Tatiana said. Her lips trembled, and she would’ve cried if her eyes had been able to tear. They stayed steady and dry though there was sadness in them when she looked at him. “I have nothing left for myself.”

  Marcello looked at her. Her body was slender, stronger. Her black hair had grown longer, falling over her hips. Her jade eyes sparkled with their power, more power than before. He wondered how she wasn’t mad with it.

  “I am mad,” Tatiana said, answering his thought. “I can feel it in me, the insanity, just at the corner waiting for me to stumble. I hear the voices of the past knocking in my brain. They want to show me what it is they have done. They want to show me their deaths. I dreamt of them last night, so many, so much, too much. I don’t want them there. I don’t want to see them. I want to go home again. I want to go to a party in my green silk dress, and I want to come home to find Alice sitting in my room waiting for me to tell her all about it. I want...” She stopped talking to look him over. Quietly, her heart breaking because she loved him and couldn’t have him, she asked, “But, I can’t have what I want, can I, Marcello?”

  “There will be parties,” he said quietly. “They will not be the same. You will not glean the same simple pleasure from them. There will be as many green silk dresses as you wish, changing in make and style as the time changes around you. But, they will not give you the same feeling they once did. There will be Alice to speak with, but she is now dead and lingering. She is lost, trapped because you wished for it that night we buried her. That thought will drive you to distraction, eating at you. As to home, you are home, bella mia. There will be many more homes for you. Many crypts and coffins, countries and places, much more than you could ever imagine now.”

  Tatiana screamed, hating him for his words, knowing them to be truths. Her expression changed from sadness to anger. Her eyes darted around. Seeing a knife on the wall, she grabbed it and rushed at him. Her eyes bled with tears, and her lips quivered as the sound of the beast surged forth in her words, “Why did you have to come that night? Why did Henry have to kill her? I want my life back. I don’t want any of this. Give me back my life!”

  Tatiana slammed into him, wielding the blade near his heart. Marcello didn’t fight. She shoved him into the stone wall, knocking the tapestry loose with the force. It fell on them. Tatiana jerked him forward, pulling free of the heavy material so she could see his face. She slammed him into the wall, again and again, threatening him with the knife, as she yelled, “Give it back. Give it back.”


  “Do it,” Marcello growled. He ripped open his jacket, waistcoat, and shirt in one pull. Buttons flew, but they didn’t care, didn’t hear them. Their eyes warred. Growling, he ordered her, “If my death brings you peace, then do it. Finish me.”

  Tatiana screamed again, loud and piercing, shaking the furniture with the force of her torment. With a slash, she cut him, ripping deep into his flesh so that it bled rapidly. Marcello flinched, but did not move to stop her. His eyes closed as he waited for death.

  “Into the heart,” he said. “Then drag me into the sun. That is how you will kill me. Do it, bella mia. Do it.”

  With a low grumble coming from deep within her, Tatiana dropped the knife and licked his wound instead. His chest tensed, and his eyes opened in pleasure to watch her tongue flicking across him.

  “I can’t,” she whispered, moaning in pleasure to feel him inside her mouth, next to her sensitive skin. “To kill you would be to kill myself.”

  “What are you saying?” Marcello tensed. She shivered as she stood before him, his crimson blood staining her lips. The wound on his chest healed.

  “I’m saying I need you,” she whispered. Her hand rose to his face, rubbing in long strokes over his cheek. “I’m saying I want you. Will you not kiss me now? It is your taste on me, not Leandro’s.”

  Marcello leaned forward, kissing her gently as he pulled her to him. Tatiana moaned against his lips, and he felt her pleasure rushing inside of him. He’d been heartbroken to discover that he’d been too late to save her from this fate. He never wished for her to carry the burden of an eternity. But the choice had not been his to make. It was beyond them. She believed this to be her fate, so he knew he must believe it too.

  “I am sorry, bella mia,” he whispered to her mouth. “I should’ve let you marry Thomas.”

  “No, I wouldn’t have let myself marry him. I know that now. I didn’t love him, could never love him. My fate was sealed long ago.” Tatiana’s fingers wound up into his hair. “Make love to me, Marcello. I have been so cold without you. The months have been too long.”