With a hiss, he stripped, climbing between her thighs. He took her slowly, his hips grinding, building her till the room was saturated with the scent of sex and blood. Pulling her neck to the side, he plunged his fangs into her throat as he rode her, his eyes watching Trina the entire time.
In disgust, she watched Sandro feed from the blonde. Her belly coiled, ready to divest itself of whatever was left in her stomach. Chuckling, Maurizio leaned forward, his hands traveling over her chest again. “What’s the matter, Ms. Markham? Not enjoying your crash course in Vampire 101? I’d bet my fangs you begged Carlos for it—and he gave it to you all right. I can smell him on you. He may be a lot of things, but he’s still a vamp, and every one of us knows how to make a victim beg.”
“Fuck you and everyone like you, Maurizio. I wasn’t Carlos’s victim. He’d never make me beg for something against my will. If I begged it was because he’s twice the man and twice the vampire you’ll ever be.”
Maurizio snarled behind her ear, his voice thick and a little slurry through his fangs. “We’ll see about that won’t we?” Inhaling, he pressed his lips to her throat. “Your scent…mmm. It’s really too bad you can’t smell what I do,” he murmured against her pulse. “When a human is aroused the blood races, and the taste of endorphins is hard for us to resist.”
In a language that sounded older than sin, Maurizio whispered to her, making her emotions smolder and turn inward. Her anger turned hot, its flames licking at her lower belly. Trina’s mind knew what was happening, but she couldn’t stop it. Maurizio was turning her anger to lust, fanning the fire but using it against her.
Sandro’s eyes glowed as he watched. “Slowly, mijo,” he whispered. “I want her on her knees when Carlos gets here. I want him watching while we take her—me at her throat and you between her legs.” Closing his eyes, he thrust himself into Elsa; his obvious climax fed by Trina’s coerced arousal. With a guttural snarl he ripped open Elsa’s throat, draining the last of her life as his body jerked its climax in time with her death spasms.
***
Carlos hadn’t slept in almost thirty-six hours. The flight into JFK International Airport was smooth and uneventful, but his mind was a dark tumult the entire time. Images of Trina haunted his thoughts, making the journey seem endless. He had brought nothing but danger and confusion to her life from the moment they met. This time things would be different. She was not going to suffer because of him. He owed it to her—owed it to Isabel.
A dark limousine waited for him at the arrivals gate, its windows tinted black against the afternoon sun. With nothing to declare and no time to waste, he simply spelled the customs agent into letting him pass. Everyone was waiting at home, and he knew not one of them was going to be happy about his decision to go it alone.
It was almost five p.m. when he walked into the house. They were all waiting for him in the kitchen like they hadn’t moved an inch since the night he left for Spain.
Julian met him at the door, always the first in line with something to say. “I hope you realize Sandro is setting you up. He knows you too well, Carlos, and probably betting you’ll do whatever it takes to save Trina.”
Carlos ignored his comments, walking straight into the kitchen to face the rest of the firing squad. Everyone’s eyes spoke volumes, yet no one said a word. As usual, they were waiting for him.
Margot looked the most shaken, so he bent to take her hand. “I know you all understand what’s happened. The first thing I want to say is thank you for tracking me down as quickly as you did. Hopefully I bought us some time; geography isn’t exactly one of Sandro’s strong suits.”
“This isn’t a joke, Carlos. Sandro means to hurt you this time, and not just physically. He means to make you a laughingstock. He’s threatened to bring the entire community down on us—accepting some of the kids we let go into his blood coven, and you know what that means.” Her voice broke and Trevor tightened his arm around her shoulders.
Straightening, Carlos regarded her sadly. “I’m sorry for them, mija, but what would you have me do? We made it perfectly clear what could happen if they left before they were ready. I offered them every opportunity if they chose to stay, but you and I both know some of them wanted me to change them. Perhaps that’s what they went looking for when they found Sandro. He’s a master at manipulating the facts to his advantage, and everyone knows it. Right now Trina is my main concern. The kids that left did so of their own free will. She was taken.”
“So we’re just going to leave them to that sadist and his lies?” Julian asked. “Thank God most of them were either smart enough or scared enough to stay put. This changes everything. If going up against Sandro for Trina’s sake wasn’t enough, then this has to be. You have to let us go with you.”
“No. The kids will be fine for now. They aren’t Sandro’s concern. Trina is the bait.”
“And what do you expect us to do? Stand around while he tears you to shreds inside and out?” Julian demanded.
“He’s right, hermano,” Miguel added. “None of us is letting you go it alone. We know you won’t have a problem getting in—it’s what Sandro expects. It’s getting you out that worries us most. We could wait for daylight. He won’t be expecting that. Then we’ll only have to deal with is his human security.”
“And what about the sun, Miguel? At that time of morning, it’s not a concern for me, but what about you? None of you, not even Eric, has age enough to withstand it. I appreciate the thought, but you and your brothers would end up being a liability,” Carlos answered tiredly.
Julian got up to pace. “At least let Eric go with you,” he said, flinging his arm out toward the vampire scowling at the other end of the table. “He’s got so much pent-up rage at Sandro he won’t even feel the sun.”
Carlos shook his head, not wanting to argue any longer. “No, and that’s final. I’m positive Sandro has at least five vampires patrolling the grounds. Maurizio is bound to be there as well. Christ, he practically has that one on a leash. I’ll not have my entire family slaughtered for a decision I made. Going alone I only risk myself. What’s the worst that can happen?”
***
Pulling his motorcycle to the side of the road, Carlos cut the engine. He had been home for just a few hours, waiting for the sun to sink low enough for him to head out. From his rear saddlebag, he pulled out a flask. It was one of Dominic’s, a thermal container the elder vampire used when he traveled. Carlos had found it in his carry-on in Barcelona. It had passed undetected through security, only for him to find it while looking for his iPod.
Unscrewing the top, he took a sip. Still warm. But the taste on his tongue wasn’t animal blood, it was Dominic’s. His old friend must have filled it knowing Carlos wouldn’t think to feed again. Foresight was definitely one of Dominic’s more appealing attributes. Thinking it amusing to sneak questionable items into a friend’s carry-on before boarding an international flight, not so much. But that was Dominic’s sense of humor.
Lifting the flask in silent salute, Carlos drained its contents. He tucked it back into the saddlebag for safekeeping and kick-started his Harley. The bike’s Twin Cam 96 engine roared to life beneath him, its sheer power juxtaposed with his own. The sun had set. He was only a few miles from Sandro’s estate, one of the last remaining along the majestic cliffs of the Palisades.
Carlos followed the road south. The twilight sky glowed purple off to the west, and New York’s skyline on the other side twinkled, its lights snapping on like so many waking eyes. Sandro and his entourage would be in full throttle when he arrived.
The gates opened as soon as he pulled up to the entrance. Like Miguel said, he was expected. There was no one around and the front door was wide open, but Carlos knew he was watched. Sandro was no fool.
Inside, the vampire’s private guard entered from various points. Five vampires. How predictable, Carlos thought dryly. His guess had been correct, and as expected, he was outnumbered. Their scent and the telltale sheen off their skin told hi
m they were young bloods. Surprise, surprise!
Obviously chosen for their body size and strength, Carlos would have laughed at the banality of the situation if things had been different. Young bloods were strong, but they tended to be clumsy and stupid in a fight. Leave it to Sandro to choose his guards based on looks rather than skill.
A wry smile tugged at the corners of Carlos’s mouth. Julian, Eric, and Miguel would enjoy themselves with this. He knew they were following close behind, regardless of his orders. Trevor, he also knew, would stay behind. He’d never leave Margot, especially not with Sandro’s threats hanging in the air.
“El Señor is waiting for you downstairs,” one of the guards announced. Then, pointing in the general direction, he stepped aside, allowing Carlos to pass.
Flashing them a bit of fang, Carlos smirked, “Storm’s coming, boys. Better get out while the getting’s good.” They snarled in response, but he knew they wouldn’t attack. It would ruin Sandro’s plans, and the narcissistic bastard would never permit that.
Carlos didn’t need much of a clue as to where he headed. The smell of blood and the thick scent of sexual arousal filled the air. His fangs tingled, but at his age, cravings were no longer controlled by pure instinct.
Frowning, he glanced back over his shoulder. Instinct. There was no question the guards were all young bloods, yet despite the titillating scents in the air their features remained human. Young bloods typically had no control over their vampiric nature, their faces contorting at the slightest provocation much in the same way teenage boys get hard-ons every time the wind blows. Something wasn’t right. It was almost as if their senses had been purposefully dulled.
A door at the end of the corridor was open, and the scent grew more pungent the closer he got. Inhaling, his mind raced to separate the scents. Was one of them Trina’s?
Her scent was burned into his memory and there was no mistaking it. She was definitely here, and she was bleeding. But there was something more. She was aroused. It was her sex he smelled, and a moment of confusion and anger boiled up inside him. Was this some kind of sick joke? Grim faced, he pressed his lips together, rejecting the thought. There was no way Trina was here of her own volition.
The air turned acrid in his nose as he went down the stairs. More attuned, he inhaled again. The scent was still hers, but it was off. The taste on the back of his tongue was tinny, metallic, like the taste of fear in the blood. Trina’s blood may have been laced with arousal, but it was also laced with dread. Something was making her react, forcing her to respond. Carlos’s body tensed. He knew exactly what it was: the same thing that forced his own body to respond to Robert’s almost three centuries ago.
Stepping down onto the marble floor of Sandro’s lair, his nostrils flared, assailed by the overwhelming smell of debauchery and death. He spotted Trina immediately. She was in the center of the room, tied to a chaise. The upholstery was saturated with blood, heavy and dripping from its edges into a puddle of red. Her arms were above her head, tied with a blood-smeared piece of fabric, and her legs were spread-eagled, anchored to either side of the chaise. Between her thighs, her sex was red, swollen, and covered in bite marks, leading from her femoral artery and back again. They had been feeding from her, and worse.
Standing directly over her were the same young bloods Carlos had thrashed and thrown out of Avalon two months prior. Sandro stood at the far end of the chaise behind Trina’s head, his fingers playing with her hair. Maurizio stationed himself at his side, ready for anything.
Rage, hot and deadly, flooded Carlos’s body. Without thinking he blurred forward, ready to rip Sandro’s heart from his chest without a care for whom or what got in his way.
Simply raising his hand, Sandro stopped him with one word in mid-assault. Hitting an invisible wall, Carlos’s breath rushed from his body in loud huff. “Stupid, hotheaded fool,” his own thoughts admonished. Sandro was calculating, and the only way he’d beat him at his own game was to stay calm.
An evil smile broadened across Sandro’s face. “Ah, Carlos. Just in time for the festivities. We’ve been waiting for you to begin. As you can see, we’ve prepped the young lady beautifully, and now she’s ripe for the taking. I usually allow my guests to partake first, but since you made it perfectly clear you find this type of diversion distasteful, I’ll do the honors myself.”
Sandro’s words were like a sucker punch to the solar plexus. Power emanated from his voice in waves, sending electric shocks through Carlos’s limbs rendering them immobile.
“Quite a shock,” Sandro said. “Even I’m amazed. The ability to render victims utterly powerless is rare among our kind. However documented, even I wasn’t certain it would work on an immortal of your age and strength. But just look at you!” He clapped his hands together. “At first I couldn’t believe it either. It’s a power I acquired a little more than a century ago from a pretty little thing named Lisette. I lived in England at the time. It’s ironic that hers is the only name I can remember from all my victims. But I suppose it’s a matter of good form, considering.”
Sandro’s eyes glowed as the other vampires surrounded Carlos. He stayed put but Maurizio flanked Carlos, watching him, his eyes narrowing with distrust.
The boys circled, their faces burning with contempt and eager revenge. “Come on, boss, let us do him. Or better yet, let us pull his fangs out and then do him, just like he said he’d to do to us!”
Carlos growled low in his throat, and both boys flinched, taking a step back.
Maurizio snorted, folding his arms across his chest. “What a couple of pussies! He’s completely powerless, yet you still piss your pants.”
Tommy’s eyes jerked to the side. “Fuck you, Maurizio! Sandro tells you to shit, and you ask what color.” He raked his claws across Carlos’s cheek in anger.
Blood streaked red from temple to chin on Carlos’s face. He snarled in fury and frustration, his eyes like daggers, yet he still couldn’t move. As his mind worked, possibilities were formed and rejected like lightning. Sandro’s power lay in his voice, the same as Robert. Yet, Sandro’s powers worked on vampires as well as humans. Did Robert have this same level of power? If he did, perhaps he wasn’t aware of it. If Lisette’s blood carried this power, then it was something she inherited from him through Isabel. The questions whirled. Did he carry it too? Did Trina?
Closing his eyes, he searched his memories, centering his focus much in the same way he had when he fought for the strength to defeat Robert. He dove deep into his own mind and found that same profound place inside. He let his senses envelope him, warm him, and only when they were once again all that encompassed him, he went even deeper, further into his vampiric consciousness.
At the base of his psyche he found something he never knew existed. It was a dark pool, its waters so dark and rich with heart’s blood it made his mouth water. Dipping his fingers into the source, he brought the viscous fluid to his lips. The moment he tasted the thick coppery liquid, he knew the power was his, inborn, not something corrupted or stolen from another. His, pure and true.
Carlos’s eyes flew open. The cold reality of what he was about to do washed over him, and for the first time in centuries he had no compunction about life or death. No false faith in right or wrong. Blood meant life and blood meant death. In that moment all his questions were answered. It was all about balance—good and evil, light and dark. One didn’t exist without the other.
Love was the only mitigating factor. It was the great equalizer—not death, not power. Death came to all living things, but a life lived without love was a living death. There was no single purpose under heaven, only choices, and the free will to either seek and find, or forever remain blind.
Power coursed through his body. It sizzled in his veins, lighting every nerve ending like the sun itself. He heard the whispered voices, tempting him to use his power to be the master of all that surrounded him. Theirs was a siren’s song, and he saw perfectly how both Sandro and Robert had been seduced. He cl
amped down on their murmuring, instead filling their empty words with the love he felt for his family, for Trina, for Isabel, and for Dominic. Suddenly, the voices were silent. Still, the power remained, fluid and pure, in his veins.
Turning his gaze toward Sandro, he uttered one word. “Liberación.” Immediately his body released from Sandro’s hold.
The vampire’s eyes widened, even as he took an involuntary step backward. “Kill him! Rip him to shreds!” The others turned at Sandro’s command, hissing and spitting blood. Maurizio flew at Carlos, his claws raking his chest and throat.
Hunching over, Carlos’s arm shot up to block another swipe, countering with a backhand and sending Maurizio skidding across the floor. Sandro’s laughter echoed behind him.
Carlos was stunned at the lust and malice he saw in the vampires’ eyes. Power gathered at the back of his throat. For years they had brought cruelty to so many through violence and blood. Now he’d let them die by it as well.
The words swelled from his mouth “Mueran por sus propias manos!”
The three vampires turned mutinously on one another, Sandro’s orders forgotten. Fangs dripping, Tommy lunged at Maurizio. “I’m gonna kill you, you motherfucker!” Dan darted out between them, his eyes blazing and full of hate. Grabbing Tommy by the throat, he threw him into the marble columns. “You asshole! You always have to be fucking first! This time the bastard’s mine!” he growled, turning on Maurizio.
Sandro vented a stream of expletives ordering them to stop, but Maurizio just turned and hissed his mouth bloody from the gaping hole he tore in Dan’s chest.
The Cursed by Blood Saga Page 72