Bitten (The Graced Series Book 2)

by Amanda Pillar

  In the past — before he’d been banished from the estate — Dante would visit with his father in the study. Now, the room was drafty from the broken window and his mother sat opposite him, staring at Dante with a kind of fascination that made him feel — what he interpreted as, anyway — slightly edgy. He’d never felt that emotion before, so he wasn’t really sure how he was meant to react.

  Anton shared the small sofa with him, fiddling with his cane where it rested across his knees. Maybe he felt the same way? Was one meant to fidget when they felt edgy?

  Feelings were so annoying. If Dante had known that Choosing Elle would have resulted in him becoming more emotional, he might have thought twice about the procedure. Too late now, though.

  Viktor sat in a wing chair off to the side, half-turned toward the door, a sullen look on his face. Dante was surprised his father wasn’t screaming about how there would be repercussions for all this; how he would make Tatiana pay for what she’d done to him. But something held him in check, maybe the fear of having to admit to his king that the mother of his child was dissatisfied with his parenting. Viktor never liked to be thought of as lacking in anything.

  Curiously Dante examined Viktor’s re-broken leg, which was resting on an ottoman while it healed. Dante would never have dared to hurt his father like that. He kind of admired Tatiana for doing so.

  Viktor Kipling was an asshole.

  Tatiana leveled a cold glare at his father. “I am extremely displeased with how you have fulfilled our breeding contract.” She held up a finger. “You had care of him until he was no longer a minor. As soon as he reached his majority, you exiled him from the house,” she raised another finger, “and married him to a human. You also allowed his Chosen to nearly be cremated.” A third finger joined the other two.

  Viktor ignored the first two accusations. “The girl’s heart wasn’t beating. It was a reasonable assumption that she was dead.”

  Dante snorted. He couldn’t help himself. Viktor scowled at him, but for once, Dante didn’t wonder about what his father thought of him. While Viktor still held some paperwork that limited the choices and actions his son could do and make, Dante now had a mother who might actually care about his fate. A mother who clearly outranked his father in social status.

  It was a startling revelation. Dante had always assumed that his mother had signed the breeding contract, produced the required offspring, and then not thought about him since.

  “I told you at the time Elle was still alive,” Dante said to his father. “You just couldn’t hear her heartbeat.”

  “Oh yes, with your ‘special’ senses.” His father made a mocking gesture with his fingers as he said the word ‘special.’

  Tatiana groaned. “You are an even bigger fool than I remember. As the son of a first generation vampire, his senses can be expected to be far superior than those of a mutt such as yourself.”

  Viktor spluttered. “First generation? Mutt?”

  Dante wasn’t sure which statement outraged his father the most.

  Did Tatiana just say first generation?

  “First generation?” Anton said, giving voice to Dante’s thoughts.

  Tatiana’s bright, over-sized violet eyes settled on Dante. “Yes. Haven’t you ever noticed that you’re faster, stronger, and have better senses than all the other vampires around you?”

  “Well, yes. But they just said I was sensitive and delicate and—”

  “Enough.” Viktor frowned, then addressed Tatiana. “Maybe you should have mentioned your background before we signed the breeding contract.”

  “If you couldn’t work it out then why should I have told you? You had all the evidence, but you chose to ignore it, thinking that your abilities were greater than they are.” Tatiana shoved her long braid over her shoulder.

  “I wouldn’t have dismissed Dante’s oddities so easily, for one.”

  Tatiana glowered. “You shouldn’t have anyway. That’s called being a good parent. Something you seem to know little about. Children are not just things that you own.”

  “That’s exactly what they are. And isn’t it a bit hypocritical to judge me about my parenting skills?”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Beside Dante, Anton winced.

  “All your other children are dead. You said so. That’s why you agreed to the contract.”

  “All my children except Dante and his sister are dead, yes. You know, your other daughter. Or did you forget about her?” Tatiana met Dante’s curious stare. “My other children died thousands of years ago. Your great-great-great-great-great grandfather wouldn’t have even been alive then. They were casualties of a war that was lost eons ago. Plus, I didn’t sell them into marriage for the sake of a few coins.”

  Clearly his matrimonial status annoyed Tatiana, although Dante didn’t want his mother to think that he was upset by it. Marrying Anton had been a good thing. Despite his father meaning it as a punishment, it had been a reward. Dante was no longer under his father’s heavy-handed control, he was living with people who actually liked him, and he was in a sort-of relationship — if you counted kissing a few times a relationship. Dante hadn’t ever wanted to be in a relationship with anyone. Ever. But with Anton it was different. It had meaning. At least to him. Dante hoped it did to Anton, too.

  From what Dante had observed in the last couple of hours, his mother and father didn’t particularly enjoy each other’s company. He wondered how they’d ever managed to fulfil the breeding contract. Wait — that was something he wasn’t meant to wonder. At least, he was pretty sure that’s what Elle would tell him if she was here, listening into his thoughts, which she did a little too frequently for his liking. It didn’t matter how many times he or that werewolf boyfriend of hers told her that she shouldn’t eavesdrop on Dante’s thoughts. She did it anyway. “It just happened,” was her favorite excuse.

  It was about as believable as someone ‘accidentally’ losing their virginity. Oh, I tripped, Dante thought with an internal snigger.

  “Then where is my other daughter? Why didn’t you bring her here to meet me?” Viktor asked, face smoothing into a mask.

  “She is traveling,” Tatiana responded.

  “So? You should have brought her with you to meet me.”

  Tatiana snorted. “You’re the last person I’d want her to meet.”

  “I’m her father.”

  “You provided the biological material required for her conception. That is as much of an influence on her life as you’ll ever have.”

  Anton coughed, and Dante turned to make sure he was okay. But the human’s brandy-colored eyes held an odd expression Dante couldn’t decipher. It was probably a reaction to the social situation, Dante decided. Anton was much more responsive to these things.

  The front door slammed shut, and Dante and Tatiana’s heads turned toward the sound. Dante heard the butler giving directions, and then two sets of footsteps began approaching the drawing room. And one set of paws.

  The door opened and his sister Misty stood in the portal. She was wearing a white suit, and her hair was swept up high. Normally bubbly and vital, Misty seemed flat. Dante made to stand, but something about his sister’s expression held him back. Elle hovered in the background behind Misty, and a large brindle wolf with yellow eyes lurked protectively nearby.

  Why was Clay here, too?

  “Mistique,” Viktor said, “why have you brought these...people...here?”

  Dante couldn’t understand why his father was shocked by Elle’s arrival; she had been here not long ago, although Clay hadn’t been with her last time. He’d waited for her outside the estate, pacing the sidewalk and causing the local vampires to cross to the other side of the street. Clay hadn’t come in, because weres didn’t typically enter vampire estates without formal invitation, even if they were checking up on their errant fiancé. Which made Dante wonder why Misty had allowed the wolf to follow her — her hatred of weres was rather legendary.
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  Misty ignored their father’s irritation. “Father, I need to speak with you privately.”

  Viktor slashed a hand through the air. “Just spit it out, I’m in no mood for theatrics.”

  Folding her arms, Misty glared at the people in the room. Her eyes lingered on Viktor’s raised leg, then came to rest on Tatiana, a curious gleam entering her gaze before her lavender eyes clouded over with some other emotion. “Father—”

  “Just bloody well say it!”

  “Mother — the countess — has been murdered.”

  Elle stepped forward, her hand suspended uselessly over Misty’s shoulder — no matter how much Misty had adopted the Chosen vampire, they were still unequal in the eyes of society, and that meant Elle wouldn’t dare touch her. But Elle seemed to offer a silent kind of comfort, which told Dante Misty was telling the truth. Elle wasn’t one for useless shows of sentimentality.

  Viktor barked a laugh. “That is ridiculous. Maerylina is at the country estate.”

  Misty shook her head. “Mother is lying in the city morgue.”

  “Come now, you shouldn’t believe everything these...people have to say.” Viktor’s eyes lingered on Elle in her city guard uniform as he spoke.

  Dante didn’t know why Viktor hated Elle so much; she hadn’t done anything to his father, not that he was aware of. Tatiana had stomped on Viktor’s leg and thrown him out a window, and Viktor wasn’t showing her nearly as much disdain as he did Dante’s Chosen.

  “I could pretend to take offense at that, but considering it was the viscountess who identified the body...” Elle’s wry voice trailed into silence.

  Viktor’s eyebrows flew high up on his forehead as he stared at his favorite child. “You were at the city morgue?”

  “I have been helping with the investigations into the vampire murders. I told you about the killings.” Misty raised a hand and patted her hair, her gaze flittering over to Dante.

  “I forbid it!”

  “I’ve already done it,” Misty said. His sister normally laughed at their father’s antics, but covertly. Misty was sly. It was how she managed to get around their father so often. “Plus, if I hadn’t been involved, then we wouldn’t know the countess was lying on a slab in that morgue. She was murdered, Father. Your wife was killed by some lowlife, and you just sit there and forbid me from assisting in finding her killer?”

  “Think of the family’s reputation!”

  “Because Mother being murdered won’t have affected that?”

  Viktor’s cheeks acquired the rosy hue of what Dante presumed was rage or annoyance. “Are you sure it wasn’t just an accident?”

  “She was staked four times,” Elle said. “I don’t think that really classifies as an accident.”

  Tatiana snorted. All eyes turned toward her and she held up a hand. “Excuse me, I don’t mean to laugh at your loss.” She nodded at Misty, but ignored Viktor’s spluttering. “However, I think this has become a family matter that no longer involves me. I would like to spend more time with my son, so we shall take our leave.”

  Misty frowned. “Your son?”

  “Dante,” Tatiana said as she stood. She brushed down her clothing and met Misty’s stare. “I waited until he reached his majority, as per the breeding contract. But I find myself extremely displeased with how your father has been handling his upbringing. Consider Dante now my concern.”

  Viktor waved a finger at Tatiana, wildly. “You did this! You killed my wife in some kind of petty act of retaliation.”

  “Oh please. If I wanted to take out my anger on you, I would throw you from a window and break your leg a few times. I wouldn’t murder your wife, who has nothing to do with me, or with Dante. From what I’ve heard, she’s barely even interacted with my son, and while I find that to be neglectful parenting, it isn’t half so bad as your fathering skills.”

  A sweet smile spread slowly across Tatiana’s face. “However, if I hear you’re the reason any harm has befallen Dante, I will kill you. I will rip you apart limb by limb and then I will feed your heart to wild dogs. And before you say that I can’t harm you, I can. This wouldn’t be considered a political incident between Skarva and Pinton, because we have a pre-existing contract, which I will claim you have failed to fulfil, since one of the clauses is to raise any offspring to adulthood and to care for their safety and wellbeing.”

  Tatiana tilted her head to the side. “Plus, I am one of the four rulers of Skarva. Do you really think your king is going to go to war over a mere earl? I assume there are plenty of other vampires waiting to take on your title.”

  Viktor hissed at that.

  “Do I make myself clear?”

  Dante’s father swallowed. “Crystal.”

  Chapter 42

  Skarva City

  Hannah didn’t know what to do.

  It wasn’t every day that she tore someone’s heart out of their chest. In fact, it wasn’t any day that she did that. She’d never killed a person before. Oh, she’d seen it done in the memories she’d taken; vampires didn’t tend to live violence-free existences. She’d experienced the rush of excitement, fear, angst, terror, joy at those remembered deaths — exactly as if she’d felt them at the time.

  But now she was just stunned.

  She didn’t know what to feel.

  Aside from sticky.

  “Hannah?” Fin asked.

  Shaking herself, Hannah focused. The heart was a weight in her hand, the blood cooling. Maybe she should put it down? But then that would leave blood in the foyer, and her mother was very particular about the marble floors. Looking away from the organ, she saw Byrne, two vampires on the ground next to him. Three of the other four retainers stood awkwardly in the foyer’s white marble expanse, stances wide, eyes darting. Montrose was just inside the door, her intimidating figure looming near Byrne. She looked disapproving, which made Hannah bite her lip.

  Montrose had never touched Hannah — the woman wasn’t an idiot, and unlike Randall, was actually loyal to her mother — but Hannah didn’t need to have the other woman’s memories to know that Montrose was a daunting individual. She was able to express her displeasure with a kind of verbal skill that left most people a jibbering mess. Even as precocious and wary child, Hannah had never mucked around for the older vampire. Montrose looked at Hannah, her pale mauve eyes dropping to the organ in Hannah’s hand.

  “Mr. Randall’s heart?” Montrose repeated.

  Hannah nodded. And then the other vampires registered what had happened. The ones still upright ran for the exits, their movements panicked and fast. Byrne reached out and seized one by the back of the neck, and Montrose kicked another who tried to duck behind her.

  Fin threw his arms out, clotheslining two vampires as they tried to run by. Their heads jolted back, and they crumpled to the floor, twitching. Fin let out an ‘oomph’ at the impact, then shook his arms out. “That hurt,” he muttered. He reached down and stabbed two sharp pieces of wood into the vampires’ necks; it would keep them immobile for a little while.

  Where had he kept those? And why was he carrying weapons to attack vampires?

  Fin looked at her. “What? I like to be prepared.”

  Montrose grabbed a woman who attempted to slide past, and with a quick twist of her arms, broke her neck. Breaking another vampire’s neck was near impossible, unless you were a lot stronger. Clearly Montrose had enormous physical power; and not a lot of sympathy for people she deemed untrustworthy. But at least the vampire with the broken neck wasn’t dead.

  “Will someone please explain to me what is going on here?” Montrose demanded, stepping over one of the fallen vampires.

  “How about we lock these guys up in the basement, then we can talk?” Fin suggested. He slid a glance at her. “Also, Hannah needs to do something with that heart. It’s gross.”

  *

  Hannah, Byrne and Fin followed Montrose to her office. It was on the same level as the duchess’, but a few door
s down. The room had floor-to-ceiling iron shelves, which were lined with books on every subject matter Hannah could think of. She’d spent hours as a child, just standing and looking at the book spines, because she wouldn’t dare touch them. Sometimes Montrose would read one to her, but she had a tendency to pick the educational tomes.

  Hannah wasn’t really sure what Montrose thought of her, but the older woman had never been cruel. And someone as old as Montrose wouldn’t be exactly...right in the mind. But she did hold one philosophy in common with her employer: adults were fair game, but children were sacred. Hannah was aware that her mother had lost children earlier in her life — it was hard for her to think of them as her brothers and sisters, since they’d been born and died thousands of years ago — but she didn’t know if Montrose had ever been a parent. She wasn’t exactly keen on asking, either.

  While even Hannah had heard plenty of stories about the tall, dark-skinned woman’s extracurricular activities, they’d never affected how she did her job, or her loyalty to Tatiana. And she and the duchess had been together for years; the two women had to be friends of a sort, but Hannah had never really thought of her mother as having ‘friends.’ That was probably childish oversight on her part — most people had friends. Hannah had been the exception to the norm, at least until she’d met Byrne and Fin.

  “Everyone, sit.” Montrose walked around behind her large metal desk and pulled out the heavy leather chair. She lowered herself into the padded seat, and placed her clasped hands on the desk’s surface. When the trio didn’t move, she raised her eyebrows at them.

  Byrne and Fin turned questioning looks on Hannah. They were hesitating because of her, even though poor Fin looked like he could do with a seat. He was wavering slightly on his feet, and his bruises looked sickly in the yellow light of the office. There was also a new purple one blooming on his jawline, and Hannah had the sinking suspicion she’d been responsible for it.