DraculaVille - New York - Book One

by Lara Nance

  He softly kissed her temple. “I find it difficult to believe you’re afraid of anything.”

  She sighed. “I’m afraid of being left.”

  His lips rested against her hair, unmoving.

  There. She’d admitted it. Something she’d never told anyone. In fact, she barely allowed the hurtful thought to surface, for fear of examining the weakness.

  “Gerri told me about her father and your fiancé.” He murmured.

  She didn’t mention her mother’s death. How they’d struggled for two years with chemo and radiation, her mother growing weaker and weaker. Finally the poor woman had succumbed. Her life ended in three months of pain and anguish. Then Talia’d been totally alone and had thrown herself into work—the one thing that had never let her down or deserted her. Until the Fizzola fiasco. But then she’d found Drake.

  He pressed another kiss on her cheek and his lips moved to her throat. His fingers stroked her neck, both soothing and arousing.

  This time the moan came from her. Every inch of her wanted him. Her heart thudded so loud she wondered if he could hear it. She sucked in a gasp, and his lips crushed hers.

  All the built up tension, attraction and need erupted in that kiss. The coolness of his body made her burn more. She circled her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. She threw one leg over his thighs. In their half reclining position, she draped her body on top of his, straddling his lap.

  He withdrew his fingers from her neck and grasped her waist, then ran his hands around to her hips, pressing her tightly to him. His lips moved over hers, hungry, eager. She thrust her tongue between his teeth. They both moaned. Their bodies writhed in a mad attempt to get even closer.

  Finally, she had to break the kiss to catch her breath. Apparently he didn’t need to breathe, but she did. She panted, her hair tousled over her eyes. She wanted to rip off her clothes. Never in her life had such insane passion consumed her. Her vision fogged and her brain refused to work.

  Drake grasped her shoulders then stroked her hair back with one hand. His eyes glowed like coals in the dimness of their dungeon. A smile curved his lips. He whispered, “Talia.”

  She tilted her head down, aiming for his lips.

  “Wait.” He held her back. His voice gained strength and he sat up straighter. “Wait, Tal.”

  She rested back on his thighs, her legs bent under her, and tried to catch her breath as the room spun.

  “What are we doing?”

  “Uhh.” Her mind attempted to focus on his words instead of his lips. She needed him. A raging inferno of desire pummeled at her senses, overwhelming all reason. She squirmed and struggled, but he held her tight, finally pushing her backwards until she landed on her feet on the floor. Why was he holding her back?

  “Breathe, Talia,” he ordered, giving her a little shake.

  She blinked and gulped in a breath.

  “Are you all right?” Desire had faded from his eyes, replaced by shadow and concern.

  She retreated a step and pressed fingertips to her bruised lips. He released her.

  “I, I don’t know.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and smoothed the front of her blouse. Dizziness circled her head, and she wobbled. “Whoa.”

  “Sit down,” he said, taking her elbow and leading her to a box.

  What had come over her? She’d never experienced such need. Such insanity and pure instinctual motivation. “I’m fine.”

  He rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. If anything happens between us, it’s not going to be in a damp basement on a bed of cardboard boxes. You mean much more to me than that.”

  She waved a hand in the air. “No, no, you’re right. Don’t be sorry. That was just…crazy. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Me neither,” he muttered. “Like I said, I don’t understand. My feelings for you are way too intense.”

  “Maybe it’s a vampire thing,” she said, glancing at him sideways. Her heart returned to a normal rhythm, and she took a deep breath. What would have happened if he hadn’t had the strength to stop? She gathered his coat around her shoulders in a tight grip.

  “Maybe,” he said and yawned. “I have to sleep, Tal. I can’t fight it.”

  “Hopefully, the gang is sleeping, too,” she said. “They won’t come for us until tonight.”

  He leaned back on the boxes and closed his eyes. “I have to sleep and so do they. Come here and let me hold you so I’ll know you’re safe.”

  She hesitated then smiled and curled against him. His arm twined around her waist. The raging compulsion she’d experienced moments ago, had gone. Her mind went to the conversation with Lydia about armantors. She and Drake bound together by some ancient immutable bond? How else to explain their overwhelming attraction?

  She sighed, content to rest against his strong chest for now. Was she crazy to think this might be their last day on earth? She refused to go down easy. Her watch said seven-thirty. The sun had risen by now. They had until sundown. Then the vampires would come for them.

  Chapter 25

  Drake straightened from his reclining position, lifting Talia with him. She opened her eyes and yawned, surprised she’d actually slept on their uncomfortable bed of boxes. It was six in the evening. Showtime.

  He stood up, stretched and ran his fingers through his hair. His eyes burned brighter than normal, a burnt orange glow in the dusky room.

  “You’re hungry, aren’t you?” She readjusted her clothing then found her shoes. When she slipped into them she wished she’d worn something other than five-inch heeled Louboutins. This whole vampire thing was murder on shoes.

  “Yes. I’d planned to have a glass of blood while the rest of you ate chili last night.” He ran his tongue over his lips. “Did you get any sleep?”

  “Surprisingly, yes.” She fingered tangles from her hair and knuckled her eyes.

  “Look, Tal.” He moved closer, his eyes uncertain. “About last night.”

  She reached out a finger and rested it on his lips. “Enough said. We’ll sort it out when we’re out of here.”

  He smiled. “Talia the tiger. I like that you never give up.”

  “We just have to keep our eyes open for opportunity.”

  A creak of old wood announced the opening of their prison door. Talia’s knees trembled. Drake put a protective arm around her waist.

  A man appeared in the doorway with others behind him. A tall, muscular man, he wore a black suit and dark blue shirt with a black tie. His bald head glistened under their pitiful light bulb, and his sharp eyes ran over them briefly before he spoke.

  “Maron wants you brought to him.” He raised one brow and cracked his knuckles together. “If you try to escape or fight we’ll kill you. Any questions?”

  Talia shook her head. Fear left her numb.

  “Good.” The tall man pointed to Drake. “You first.”

  Drake glanced at her then released her waist and strode forward. Once he passed through the doorway, the bald vampire motioned for her to follow. Six beefy vampires in dark attire guarded them as they headed down the hall.

  The area outside their prison was as poorly lit as their cell, flickering with old, nearly spent fluorescent lights. Old brick walls crumbled in places, and their feet crunched chunks on a concrete floor.

  Goosebumps ran up her arms despite her two jackets. The guards looked at her with hungry eyes, as if they would kill and eat her in a minute if something didn’t hold them at bay. Their barely contained aggression hung heavy in the air.

  They wound through several narrow passages, making numerous turns. After a few minutes, they descended a flight of metal stairs to where the way grew wider and the walls were no longer made of brick. Walls carved of stone had oil lanterns hung from iron hooks at intervals. This level surely went below the basement level. Talia stared around her in wonder. Had the vampires carved out these tunnels? They could have a whole world down here beneath the streets of New York.

  “Move along.” One of them jabbed her
between the shoulder blades when she lagged.

  She stumbled a few steps and Drake glanced over his shoulder.

  They passed by crossing tunnels. Talia gave up trying to memorize their path through the maze of halls and passageways. Even if they escaped, she didn’t know how they’d find their way to the surface. Her earlier refusal to give in to despair shrunk with every step she took.

  Ahead, a cacophony of music, laughter and voices drifted toward them. Her skin crawled to think this noise came from so many vampires in one area. Her steps hesitated and she received another prod in the back, forcing her forward.

  They emerged into a large room. Talia couldn’t tell if it had once been a storage area or just a cavern. Vampires in the hundreds, dressed like they were in a nightclub with flashy, sparkly clothes and dark dramatic makeup, shot curious, hard glances her way. When the lead guard raised his hands, all conversation and laughter stalled. The smell of old blood was unmistakable, making bile rise in her throat. Pounding music stopped short. Silence permeated the vast space, dripping with anticipation.

  Dark figures leaned toward her, red lips parted to reveal sharp teeth. Pink tongues lashed out and retreated, while cold white fingers curled around crystal goblets filled with dark red blood. Talia squinted at the flash of bone white skin under lights suspended from the high ceiling.

  She realized she held her breath as their security squadron escorted them through the gauntlet of leering, grasping, hissing vampires. An occasional hand snaked out, sharp pointed nails raking the air, but their guards blocked the hands with hardly a change in expression. She hurried so she marched directly behind Drake. This situation was so much worse than anything she’d anticipated. She surely had to be the only human in this mass of evil, hungry vampires.

  The staring crowd parted, and they made their way through. Talia gritted her teeth and held her head high. If they wanted to kill her, she’d take a few with her. Her fingers itched to squeeze a few vampire necks.

  They reached a point where no one stood in their path. Ahead, a raised dais of stacked stones held a throne-like chair of gilded, carved wood with a high back. On it, a blond haired male vampire perched, dressed in a burgundy velvet suit and a cream silk shirt with ruffles at the throat.

  Maron.

  His fingers curled around the arm rests of his chair. He leaned forward, assessing their approach.

  She drew in a breath when she recognized the woman to his right. Lucilla. She wore her short, tight black dress with high heels. Her red lips parted as Drake came through the crowd. Her hands pressed against her thighs, gaze focused on him like a laser.

  Bitch. Fire coursed through Talia, overcoming the chill of fear. Her nails pressed into her palms as she fisted her hands. Drake was hers. She swallowed, recognizing the unnatural push of jealousy that had emerged. It was important to keep her head. This was no time to lose control.

  The vampire patron stood and descended the few steps from the dais. His steps were slow and purposeful. He studied Drake. His eyes flickered to Talia for a moment then refocused on Drake.

  “Welcome to my flock’s haven, Drake. Or should I say, Dracula?” Maron smirked. He took a goblet of blood from a woman in a tight red dress who approached him and then slithered away.

  Drake remained silent. He cast a wary glance at Talia, and she gave him a weak smile.

  “Lucilla told me about you. You’re new to our area.” The patron came closer, and Lucilla followed, staying a step back. “Then we learned you’re going to be a major figure in the media for a campaign to promote Romania.”

  Talia’s heart beat faster. Maybe this was the reason they weren’t killed right away. What did Drake’s celebrity mean to the flock?

  Maron paced in front of them. He sipped blood, glancing back and forth between them.

  “Patron, this woman is nothing to us,” Lucilla said, putting a hand on his arm. “We should kill her, share her blood and revel in her torture.”

  Talia’s eyes narrowed. Lucilla was a total and complete bitch from hell.

  The patron frowned and held up a hand.

  Lucilla inclined her head and stepped away. When she raised her gaze, her eyes burned with hatred, boring into Talia like hot pokers.

  Maron turned to Drake, his gaze roving over the black Dracula outfit he still wore from the photo shoot. “So, you want to call yourself…Dracula? That’s very ambitious.”

  Drake stared at him, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

  The crowd of vampires around them shuffled, murmuring until their patron glared at them. Silence descended, cold and heavy. Talia could still sense unrest, however.

  Maron turned in a circle, arms spread wide. “I have my own world down here. Tunnels run from basements to underground caverns throughout Manhattan. I can go anywhere, anytime and none of the oblivious humans above will ever know. I take what I want. Money, clothes, jewelry. Even victims.”

  He stalked backward to stand a couple feet in front of Drake who retained a cool gaze. However, he squeezed Talia’s hand so hard it hurt.

  “Sounds pretty good, right? You should think about that. Rogue vampires don’t last long in this world.” Maron pursed his lips and tilted his head. “If you join a flock, you could be protected. I might be willing to offer you membership under certain conditions.”

  So that was it. They wanted Drake in their group. Talia gripped her free hand into a tight fist. What a bunch of vampire assholes. Did they think it would give them some sort of celebrity to have the face of Romanian publicity belong to their flock? There had to be more to it than that. Maron didn’t look like someone who gave something for nothing.

  “You’d be rich beyond your wildest dreams, and have anything you wanted.” The vampire leader folded his arms across his chest. “What do you say?”

  “Why would you want me in your group?” Drake asked.

  “Let’s just say that it’s not always easy to find willing donors for the blood we need. In your position, women will flock to you and beg to be bitten.” An evil grin spread over his face. “You could share and our food source would be assured.”

  Talia shuddered in horror. They wanted Drake to be the vampire pied piper, bringing innocent women down here to be used as food.

  “I thought you could go anywhere and get anything you wanted. Why do you need me?” Drake asked.

  Maron flipped a dismissive hand. “We can, of course. But enticing victims out of crowds to secluded areas isn’t easy. We strive to keep our existence a secret from the outside world. It would be so much easier with your popularity to have blood whenever we want it for no work at all and very little risk of discovery.”

  “I see,” Drake briefly cut his eyes to Talia.

  “I thought you would.” Maron smiled. “It’s a great plan. We both benefit.” He drew near and slapped Drake on the back. “So we can count you in?”

  “No.”

  Snarls and hisses spat from the gathered vampires. Hot amber eyes flashed against pale skin, and fangs glowed in the flickering light of oil lamps. Talia trembled and sidled closer to Drake, their shoulders almost touching.

  The patron’s brows came together. His lips curled in a grimace. “You defy me?”

  “I’m not going to join your group.”

  “Then you’ll die.” Maron whirled and headed to his throne. Their guards pressed closer.

  Drake appeared calm, but his hand grasped hers in a crushing hold. “It’s one thing to kill a rogue vampire, but quite another to kill a member of another flock. That could bring a lot of trouble down on you.”

  Maron froze. He slowly swiveled around. “What?”

  “I’m a member of Carlotta’s flock. She won’t be happy if you kill me. She’s none too happy with you anyway.” Drake loosened his hold on Talia’s hand.

  She let out the breath she’d been holding. Sharp pains shot through her hand as circulation returned.

  Murmurs ran through the crowd, and Maron’s eyes shifted away. Lucilla stepped forward and
grasped her leader’s arm. “He has to die for this insult to you. Carlotta will never know.”

  “No.” The patron jerked his arm. A flicker of fear passed over his features. “We don’t break the sacred rules. If he’s part of Carlotta’s flock, he must be set free.”

  “What about the woman?” Lucilla slithered closer to Maron, wrapping her black tipped fingers around his upper arm and pressing against his side. Her tongue snaked over her lips as she glanced at Talia. “She has no protection. Let us have her.”

  Shouts of encouragement and approval echoed around the subterranean space. The vampires moved closer, like creeping cats ready to pounce.

  Once again, Drake’s fingers bit into the flesh of her hand. Her heart thumped. They would rip her to shreds, and if Drake got killed in the process of defending her, they would no longer have to worry about Carlotta’s revenge.

  Maron’s evil grin returned. He’d come to the same conclusion.

  She had to do something or they’d both die. A guard grabbed her upper arm. She jerked free and stepped forward. “No. You can’t kill me,”

  The noise decreased. All eyes went to Maron.

  He let out a laugh. “Why is that, human? There’s no reason for you to live. You’re nothing to us.”

  Her voice shook, but Drake’s steady grasp on her hand gave her courage. “You can’t kill me because we…” She pointed to Drake and back to herself. “We’re armantor.”

  Lucilla let out a bloodcurdling shriek and clamped her hands over her ears. The rest of the vampires went berserk, yelling and screeching like crazed banshees. Maron waved both hands in the air for several seconds and brought them back to order.

  “How dare you use our ancient words. They are sacred to us,” the patron snapped, striding over. He glared at her, his face only inches from hers, his eyes cold, and hard. Breath sour from old blood spewed forth.

  “Exactly,” she said, glaring right back, refusing to be intimidated by this caricature of a vampire lord. “That’s why you can’t kill me. The relationship of armantor is one of the most sacred vampire traditions.”

  “Silence,” Maron roared.