Knight of the Hunted (NSFW Edition) (Born Vampire Book 1)

by Elizabeth Dunlap

  She wasn’t the only one looking forward to tomorrow when the screams would stop and the work began.

  Three

  Sleeping didn’t come easily that night. Olivier and I had spent the rest of the day going over paperwork. Cameron went to his room as soon as we finished dinner, leaving me by myself in the large castle. After all my work was done, I went to my room and changed into a nightgown, but after an hour of lying in bed, I was still wide-awake. I put on a kimono robe and went downstairs to the library. Maybe I’d read more of that sexy book and do a little rub a dub dub.

  The library was large and was part of the turned portion of the castle. Red carpet, red walls, electric candelabras instead of normal lighting, and heavy curtains at the windows that could be drawn during the day. The Born rooms were bright with large windows and no curtains. This was, after all, our home. After the turned were trained, they would all leave and be reassigned to another Order. We were the oldest group of vampires and maintained our purity. The turned were not allowed to have a permanent residence here. It was a bit snobby, but who was I to scoff at tradition?

  Waiting for me in the library was a sleeping figure on one of the ornate sofas. I smelled wine and brandy. Moving closer, I saw Renard’s sleeping face. His snores made his barbell mustache flutter. A large and mostly empty bottle of brandy lay atop a stack of books on the floor in front of him. I reached down and picked it up, my eyes searching the red carpet for the lid.

  “Amore…mi amore,” Renard muttered in his sleep. He suddenly came awake when I reached beside him to retrieve the brandy lid. “Ah, belle Lisbeth.” He sat up and scrubbed a hand down his face to scratch at his red stubble.

  “Did Olivier kick you out again?” I asked him, only half serious. She’d only done so once in their thirty years together. He dared to make a joke about her vampire mermaid dresses. Or maybe they’d finally made love and she regretted it. Who knew.

  Renard’s violet eyes caught the moonlight, a shade lighter than my own purple eyes. It seemed as if all our companions had some exotic quality, like how humans kept exotic pets. Bad analogy. “Non. I needed to drown the damn noise.” The screams were still going on downstairs, and all the tuning out in the world couldn’t make me not hear it. The turned were close to being ready, and in a last push, they’d gotten louder in hopes we’d let them out. It wouldn’t work.

  Renard got up and gently took the bottle from my hand, then leaned down to my face and kissed my cheek. “Back to my Lady. Bon chance.” He sauntered out, grabbing onto something for balance a few times. I sat on the sofa he’d been sleeping on and plopped my head down to the headrest.

  My eyes closed. Instantly, I felt someone push a cup of coffee in my face. I sat up quickly, startled, and saw Cameron in front of me, laughing. It was morning already, the sun beat into the red room without the curtains to block it. I’d fallen asleep without even noticing. I started adjusting my kimono robe and noticed Cameron had brought me a dress with shoes that matched it. He turned his back so I could change.

  “Thanks,” I said to Cameron when I was done. He turned and handed me my mug of coffee. We sipped in awkward silence, both unconsciously testing to hear if the screams had stopped. I counted two individual screams from the dormitory, the ones I’d heard last night screaming in rage. Those two would be trained by Olivier specifically. She handled the tougher turned. I might have been just as unbreakable, but she put my strength to shame. I’d seen her win a fight against vampires decades older than her.

  Cameron took my mug and I followed him to the kitchen. He was muttering a mantra under his breath, “Bacon, bacon, bacon, bacon.” The kitchen and small cafeteria were bustling with vampires and their companions eating breakfast. Cameron skirted around other people cooking at the stoves and took two plates out of one of the ovens. All the tables in the cafeteria were taken, so after grabbing silverware and drinks, we went outside to eat in the garden.

  The outside tables were surrounded by plots of flowers and plenty of lawn in case someone wanted to have a picnic. Othello sat at one of the umbrella-shaded tables with Marie, a younger Born vampire, who was staring at me like I’d insulted her shoes. Being Othello’s mate meant power, and Marie wanted that power. She was welcome to it. Hope you enjoy seeing Othello’s O-face, Marie. Oh god. Now I was contemplating Othello’s O-face.

  Cute puppies. Cute puppies.

  Cameron and I put everything on a table far away from them and started eating. Cameron had made us Japanese lettuce pancakes with bacon and some kind of sauce on top. My lip curled at the sight of it.

  “Stop making a face,” he scolded me. “This is good food. Just because it’s not blood pudding, or whatever rich ass people ate in the middle ages-” I cut him off by flinging a piece of lettuce pancake at him. He almost looked like he was about to start a food fight, and I was fully prepared to defend my side of the table, when he started laughing and took a big bite of lettuce pancake to spite me. “MMmmmmm!” he moaned. Othello and Marie approached us mid-pancake. Marie had a dainty lace parasol in her hand that was the same pink as her stylish suit. Your parasol is pointless, dainty one. Othello wore his typical Victorian getup, looking like a giant tool.

  “I left you some daisies in your suite,” Othello informed me, giving me a look like he expected me to suddenly decide to screw him then and there because he’d brought me flowers. Again. For a million days in a row. I made an ‘Oh?’ face and put pancake in my mouth so I wouldn’t say something rude, like ‘keep trying, bitch. I will not drop trou for you.’ Unfortunately, as always, he pretended to not notice my lack of exuberance. “After breakfast, we will convene in the dormitory.” He turned and walked back towards the castle, rebuffing Marie’s attempt to take his arm.

  Cameron imitated Othello’s deep British accent. “’We will convene in the dormitory.’” He rolled his eyes. “Creepy ass dude with his creepy ass accent.”

  “You know I used to have an accent, right? As did you.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Not a creepy one. What did your accent sound like? You were born in Hungary, right?”

  “Transylvania,” I corrected since that was what it had been at the time. “As cliché as that sounds. Ugh.” I waved my hands around while saying in my Dracula voice, “Ooo, a vampire born in Transylvania!” Cameron laughed around a piece of bacon. “I was raised in England, actually. We just managed to stick around in England long enough for the accent to arrive. Right so, guv-nah.”

  Cameron snorted as Olivier and Renard came around the corner of the castle, arm in arm. Olivier wore a black mermaid dress decorated with leather belts, and she was squinting at the sun like it was there just to torture her. She hated being outside. Renard’s broad shoulders dwarfed her small frame and blocked some of the sun.

  “We’re needed,” she said evenly. I couldn’t tell if she was dreading it, or was excited at the prospect of working again.

  Both. Always both.

  I looked down and realized I’d finished the lettuce pancake and it had tasted good, shockingly. Cameron was smirking at me since I was such a picky eater and had eaten something different for once. I flicked more lettuce at him and stood up to follow Olivier to the dormitory.

  Taking my spot, Renard sat down with Cameron and they started talking about a TV show they’d both been watching like they were the closest of friends. They had something of a good relationship, considering how long Cameron had been here, and how often they had to entertain themselves while we were busy.

  Olivier was quiet on our trek, breaking the silence only to comment on someone’s poor fashion choices, and to tell me I had bacon breath. I almost asked what was bothering her, but then I remembered. In a few weeks, new companions would be brought here for the turned and Born to choose from, and that meant the end of all companion contracts. Olivier was probably scared that Renard wouldn’t renew his tenure for a fourth time. He wasn’t a young man anymore. He was in his mid-40s now. His face was beginning to show thin smile lines, and his
buzzed hair was thinning out. Would he really want to spend more years of his life with a woman that he could never have as his own?

  Cameron was leaving.

  The thought sobered me, and any buzz from the nice morning was gone. We both entered the dark haunting basement looking like someone had just slapped us. Well. I did, at least. Olivier looked like she was going to punch the next person who was cheerful to her. The atmosphere in front of us was somber, so everyone’s face was safe for now. Othello had put on a long black robe, trying to look official as the head of our Order, and he held two large golden keys in his hand. Those keys would unlock every coffin in the room.

  Two voices still came from the coffins, screaming faintly, waiting for us to let them out. When they found out we weren’t going to, they’d start up again. Logically, we would be doing this ceremony after dark, when the turned couldn’t be reduced to a lovely pile of ashes if the sun touched them for too long, but Othello worked on his own schedule. He refused to bend it for the turned.

  Olivier and I approached the small group of Born vampires, nodding to the ones we worked with sometimes. Othello silently handed me one of the keys, and he and I walked to the end of the room and began unlocking each coffin, except for the two that were still noisy. It took us a few minutes to reach the other end of the chamber. When we finished, we walked back to the center, where the tall iron candelabras stood.

  “Arise,” Othello said loudly, his voice echoing. “You are now one of the turned. You have been reborn as a creature of the night.” As he spoke, the coffin lids opened one by one and the turned sat up. Their eyes were dark with shadows and each one had a sense of calm they didn’t have before now. They started to step out of the coffins and join us in the center of the room. There were so many, at least fifty, counting the two extras. Every year we turned more and more. The turned were all dirty with old blood, the result of scratching and beating against wood for countless hours.

  Olivier led them to the basement shower room, there specifically for the turned to use, while I got to order around some maids. They’d been waiting in the underground garage, a cluster of human housecleaners that did their work and asked no questions. Normally they just cleaned the castle once a week, however, once a year we needed them to change the bedding in the coffins. The turned had done real damage to their interiors, but we’d lined them with old bedding on purpose. Almost every coffin was stripped, given a quick rubdown, and lined with new red silk bedding.

  Yes, the turned still slept in the coffins during their training. Only now they wouldn’t be locked from the outside. After the maids were done, I led the Born vampires back upstairs to the smaller drawing-room, on the turned side of the house. The room was dimly lit, and red. Red carpet, red curtains, red walls. Red, red, red. Olivier and the turned that had been released were waiting for us, now all cleaned up and dressed in robes. Later today, their measurements would be taken and they would be able to order new clothes for their new bodies.

  Othello silenced everyone by clapping his hands. “Now begins your training. You will spend the next five months learning from your instructors, Lisbeth and Olivier.” He gestured to us, and I waved with a smile. Olivier ignored everyone. Othello said a few more things, some inspirational bullshit, then he gestured for the Born vampires to leave, and he followed them out.

  Their part was done. Now Olivier and I were in charge.

  We spent most of the morning answering questions the turned had, and believe me, they were asking the dumbest questions.

  Why’d you lock us up?

  Are we prisoners?

  I don’t want to drink blood. It’s gross.

  Olivier’s method to dumbasses was chopping their heads off. I was beginning to wish that was acceptable. Our lunch could not have come soon enough, and was brought to us so we could supervise the turned having their new bodies measured.

  Olivier bit into a stuffed tomato, her eyes surveying the turned carefully like one might choose to bolt suddenly. I didn’t see the point. We were more babysitters than crowd control. Even if they did get past us, they’d burn to a crisp outside.

  One of the turned started complaining when it was his turn to be measured, not seeing the point in knowing his size since he didn’t care what he wore. Olivier scoffed to herself. “Obviously, we didn’t screen well enough,” she said quietly. “Every year these fucks try me. If it’s not their endless questions, it’s their lack of fashion sense.” I rolled my eyes. She was such a fashion diva.

  My phone went off and I stuffed a piece of fish in my mouth to lift it out of my pocket. It was a text from Cameron.

  Renard wants me to lift weights with him. I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS!!

  I giggled and started texting back something witty since Cameron never worked out and still had a perfect body. Not that I was looking. Okay, I looked. But not like that.

  Lift weights, flirt with the girls at the gym, and then make him play video games with you :-D

  He responded back with, Nice try, but there’s no girls here. I’m not working out if the gym is lacking ladies. I laughed and put my phone back in my pocket.

  After the measurements were over and the bitching ceased, Olivier and I could begin.

  “Your first lesson,” I said after everyone had sat down or perched on something, “is your fangs.” They all looked disappointed like they’d been expecting something like combat fighting, so I tried to elaborate. “You must know how to control your fangs when you are around a human. Now, I know you have learned control of your thirst, and that’s the first step for a turned vampire.”

  One of the turned interrupted me. “Seriously? We have to sit here and talk about fangs? When do we learn to break stuff?”

  Grr.

  Olivier answered that one, saving me the chance to tell someone to shut up. “You’ll learn that later. It’s important right now to learn Vampire etiquette.”

  “And you only learn to…break things…because it’s important to know the boundaries of your strength. Not so you can fight or kill someone,” I added quickly.

  “That is so boring!” a girl turned with perfect blonde hair said. She had refused to be measured since she insisted she had always been this skinny. “You mentioned you were a vampire Hunter before,” she said to Olivier. “I want to be one.”

  Olivier’s eyebrows knit together. “The turned don’t become Hunters.”

  This outraged several of the turned. “That’s so unfair!”

  “Why can’t we? Is it some super selective club?”

  “That’s racist!”

  Oh my fucking god, I had the worst job in the history of ever.

  Olivier let out a high-pitched noise that shook the room and made our ears cry with pain. “ALL OF YOU BITCHES SHUT UP!” She straightened and huffed like she was about to send them to detention after spanking their ungrateful asses. “You will all go down to the dormitory. Lessons are over.” No one protested.

  I walked over to her when the room was empty and wiggled a finger in my ear. “Oww.” She smiled as an apology. “I fucking hate it when you do that.”

  “It gets them to shut the hell up. Worth it,” was her response.

  My ears disagreed, but I smiled back anyway and pulled her in for a hug. We put our work away and went upstairs. Our companions were in my suite waiting, sitting on one of the divans. Cameron was playing a video game on the big screen TV and Renard was watching him while casually lifting a twenty-pound weight with one arm. They both waved to us, too absorbed to get up. Olivier plopped down on the floor next to Renard and started complaining to him in French about how our day had gone, using every single slur she could think of.

  Watching Cameron made me sad again. He’d be gone before I knew it, and I didn’t want him to leave me. I quickly grabbed my purse and zipped down to the underground garage for my car. I needed to talk to Balthazar about something, anything. Or I’d find that sweet book reader and have my way with her. Either way, I couldn’t be upset about losing my c
ompanion. This was a fact of my life.

  I stopped at several bookstores, a few antique places, but Balthazar didn’t show up. I’d wandered onto the outskirts of town, and was starting to feel weary from my search when I bumped into someone at the end of a street. I started to apologize and noticed it was a child, about ten years old.

  The hairs on my neck stood up in warning.

  The child stunk of Lycan.

  Four

  I looked down at the child in front of me. I’d knocked both of us over so I was leaning over him. I sat up and he watched me warily. No doubt, he could smell me as well and knew what I was. His enemy.

  “Simon!” someone shouted. I looked up and on the other side of the street crossing were two burly men and a smaller woman that looked just as tough.

  Fuck.

  I could tell by sight that the taller male was an Alpha. The smell from them made my lips curl in a survival instinct, and I had to fight to keep my fangs from dropping. Why weren’t the wolves coming closer? They had an Alpha plus two. I knew I wouldn’t stand much of a chance against them. They could easily run over here, grab me and the child, and rip me to pieces in a dark alley. I looked down at the child and back at the Lycans, and then it hit me.

  The borders. The edge of my Order’s land was this street crossing. The border we owned spread the same distance in every direction and it was marked by the scent of vampire blood. The Lycans couldn’t cross to save their pup or their lives would be forfeit to me. It was the law.

  I looked back down at the boy. His scent was human, I realized. The Lycan scent I’d smelled was residual, from other people. His parents. The boy had black hair and tanned skin, a typical werewolf look. The boy’s features were in-between boy and preteen. He still had the chubby cherub cheeks and full lips of a child, but his eyes were deep and aged. He knew running from me wouldn’t do any good. He was waiting for me to take him away and do my duty.