by Ella Frank
Vasilios pushed off the wall and brought his hands up to Alasdair’s face. “Nothing too alarming, I assure you.” He brushed his lips across Alasdair’s and then pulled away, lowering his hands to his sides. “You already know that I have seen him before. I told you he looked familiar.”
“Yes. You mentioned that it was the night in the temple. He saw you too. How is that even possible?”
Vasilios once again leaned against the wall. “Hmm. That’s the million-dollar question.”
“Good thing I have access to a million dollars.”
The wolfish grin that slid onto Vasilios’s lips made Alasdair want to strip down for him, but then it vanished.
“Have I compromised us tonight, Alasdair? I gave him my blood. I tied him to us. And I know that having his life linked to ours wasn’t the only reason I did it. What if I placed us in further danger? Or our people?”
The weight of the questions shocked Alasdair into speechlessness.
“All for something that I want? I know I am selfish. That is nothing new. However—”
“He makes it hard to think beyond him when he is near, doesn’t he?” Once the words had tumbled out of his mouth, Alasdair wanted to retract them. But the agreement in his sire’s eyes made him feel less foolish. He felt the draw too.
“Yes. And I keep asking myself: Why is that? He is mortal and likely our enemy. Yet, from the moment I saw him—”
“You craved him,” Alasdair said in mutual understanding as he walked closer. He placed his hands by his sire’s head and lowered his lips to his throat. “I felt the same. I tried to fight it. Tried to kill him, just as you did. But it’s as if you know you shouldn’t, and you know you can’t, yet you want to own him anyway. You want to feed from him. Fuck him.”
“Yes.” Vasilios sighed as his hands went to the button of Alasdair’s pants.
Alasdair’s cock stiffened in anticipation, but instead of undressing, he heard himself say, “He wants us to wait for him.”
Vasilios turned his head, and when their noses brushed, Alasdair raised his brow in question.
“I do not wait.”
Alasdair moved his hand down to the hard-as-fuck cock inside Vasilios’s pants, and when he tightened his fingers around him, he asked, “No?”
Vasilios squeezed his eyes shut. “Like I said, he is dangerous.”
Alasdair stepped away from him. “This I know.”
With a frustrated curse, Vasilios looked up and down the long expanse of The Walk. “What he wants… I will not do it here.”
Alasdair waited for him to continue.
“This is the first time something of this magnitude has ever been done. I will not present him to the lair in such a common display. I am the first Ancient, the oldest of our kind, and you are my first-sired, and he is to be ours. It will happen in the Chamber. And, Alasdair?”
“Yes, Vasilios?”
“I want it known that, if anyone tries to touch him in pleasure or pain without our permission, they will be dead before they can offer up the beginnings of an apology.”
He couldn’t have agreed more. It was time to make this official, and with everything that was about to go down, the sooner the better, as far as he was concerned. Leo’s friend was on the chopping block, and they needed him tied to them in every way imaginable.
THIS TIME WHEN Isadora woke, she knew she was alone. She felt Diomêdês’s absence as fiercely as his presence when she stretched her legs beneath the sheets and flexed her muscles all the way to her toes.
Her body was finally responding the way it should, no longer wanting to give out on her from the strain it was under. She sat up in bed and realized that Diomêdês must’ve undressed her after she’d fallen back to sleep the second time, all save for—
She reached for the choker at her neck.
Elias…
Lying back on the mattress, she thought of the man being held prisoner. The man awaiting his death. How had they gotten here? When she’d once walked away from him to save him.
She shut her eyes and hardened herself against the feelings that wanted to surface whenever she thought of Elias Fontana. It had been easy when he’d had her tied to his chair and suffering. Her survival instincts had kicked in. But, as she lay in the safety of Diomêdês’s bed, the softer, kinder memories of the man she’d fallen in love with crept back in.
January—11 years earlier…
ISADORA HURRIED DOWN the stark, white corridor and kept her eyes on the floor. She couldn’t believe how close she’d cut her latest feed. Alasdair would have her hide if he had to bail her out, but it wasn’t her fault. Not really.
Not one human had caught her eye in the latest batch of yieldings, and that was saying something considering she wasn’t partial to male or female like her cousins. Ugh, it was a slump. Thanos had warned her that it would eventually happen. She hadn’t believed him, though, and with Diomêdês out of town, her options were limited.
She’d been restless lately, which was unlike her, and tonight, she hadn’t been able to wait. The local hospital seemed a smart place to peruse a decent selection. That was until the damn patient had coded.
Just my luck, she thought, and when the first doctor had arrived, she’d promptly knocked him out, stolen his lab coat, and shoved him in the bathroom. Then a rush of hospital staff had shown up and she’d had no choice but to leave by foot. That had been…oh, about five minutes ago.
While shoving her hands in the deep pockets, she came up to the entry she’d walked through earlier and sighed. All she had to do was get out into the shadows and fade back to the lair without anyone seeing. Alasdair would be none the wiser.
As she turned the final corner, a smug grin crossed her lips—until she ran smack into the equivalent of a brick wall.
“Oh, shit. I mean—” The male standing opposite her placed a hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you until it was too late to stop the collision.” He chuckled, and the warm sound of the vibration had Isadora raising her eyes.
As he absently ran his palm down the sleeve of her coat, she barely felt the touch. He was unlike any she’d ever seen.
The first thing she noticed was his height. Being a tall female herself, she’d always been drawn to a man who surpassed her own stature, and this man had several inches on her. His hair, dark as her own, was swept back from his face as though he’d run his hands through it. It was the odd color of his eyes, though, that held her immobile. They were an unusual shade of…silver that reminded her of her Ancient’s hair, and right now, they seemed to be shining at her.
“Are you okay?” he asked, bending a little at the knees to get a better look at her.
She quickly lowered her head. Jesus. Talk, Isadora. Tell him you’re fine and get away from him. “I think I’ll survive.” No, no. Do not flirt with him.
“Well, thank god for that.”
Brilliant, she admonished herself. His tone had taken on a quality she knew all too well—interest. But she didn’t have time for this. She made a move to step around him, but the fingers she hadn’t even realized were still on her wrist tightened.
“Wait…”
She looked down to where he held her, and as if he’d just noticed, he released his grip.
“Yes?”
He gave a shrug, but the cocky smile that tipped his lips belied any kind of indifference. This man was confident, and he had every reason to be.
“You can’t just leave. What if I injured you?”
A burst of laughter bubbled out of her at the notion, and it was the first time in years she had done so.
“I’m serious,” he said as he took a step closer.
She brought her fingers to her lips to hide the grin she was flashing. “Yes, I can see that.”
“I mean, what if you leave and later suffer from a concussion? I’m a pretty solid guy, and you did run into me rather hard.”
As he said the word hard, their eyes locked and Isadora’s arm lowered, her lips parting. She
needed to get out of there. The high from the feed and her lack of yieldings these past few weeks must’ve been causing a residual sexual pull, because all she wanted was to get naked and on her knees for this guy.
As a group of hospital staff ran by, he broke their connection and gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. “Do you need to go?”
Yes, but not because of that. “I should.”
“Are you a doctor here?”
“Ahh no. An intern.” Great, now I’m lying. And why that lie?
“Oh, so, if I come back, I might bump into you again?”
That was why right there. “Uh, maybe.”
When it was clear she wasn’t going to say anything else, he held his hand out for her to shake. It was such a human gesture and odd in light of their having already connected so spectacularly that she just stared at it.
“Then let me introduce myself so it won’t be strange when I show up again tomorrow. I’m Elias, and you are?”
As Isadora slid her palm into his, she allowed herself to take another good look at him. He was sexy, and the way he was watching her with intense focus made it more than obvious he found her just as appealing. Surely there’d be no harm if she took a little peek inside.
She gently pushed into his mind, and what she saw was anything but endearing or shy. He was imagining her as stripped down as she had just been picturing. However, he had her on her feet and against a wall—the hospital wall behind her, to be exact.
Loving that image, she was more than content to keep watching, but as if he knew she was in there, his mind went blank. She blinked, not believing what she was seeing, but sure enough, it was as if he’d flicked a switch and the television had been shut off.
“You’re not going to tell me your name?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts and flashing a wide grin.
She wasn’t sure why, but instead of compelling him to forget her, she slicked her tongue along her lower lip and watched him track it with those unusual eyes.
“I’ll tell you that the next time we bump into each other.”
“Which will be?”
Diomêdês would be gone for several more days, so perhaps she could amuse herself with this human until he returned. Then maybe…maybe she would present him as her next choice if things went well.
“I work tomorrow night.”
It should’ve alarmed her at how easily lies fell from her tongue, but she’d honed the perfect delivery of such tales over many centuries and found she really was quite skilled at it. Thanos, her cousin, was terrible.
“That’s good to know. I’ll be sure to stand in every corridor until you run into me.”
Isadora walked backwards, once again slipping her hands into the coat pockets, and winked. “I should pass by this one around midnight.”
As she turned to push through the exit, he called out, “I’ll be waiting…”
AND HE HAD been.
Isadora brought a trembling hand to her mouth to keep her lips from giving way to the sob she wanted to let free. Over the years, she had buried the memories that would make her vulnerable.
She projected the image of a fierce and courageous female so no one would ever doubt her Ancient’s choice. But, the reality of what would be expected of her tomorrow made her want to curl into a ball and break down. It reminded her of the night she’d been turned—the last time she’d ever let herself feel such gut-wrenching agony, such torturous betrayal.
She closed her eyes and trailed a hand down to the rose lying against her throat as a salty tear fell from the corner of her eye. Why did it always end like this for her? Why were the ones she loved forever out of her grasp? Even Diomêdês, in his own way, would never really be hers.
The thought of eternity alone suddenly seemed overwhelming as she struggled to make it through the next second without her heart, or whatever kept her alive, shattering.
WAKEY, WAKEY, AGÓRI. Vasilios’s silky voice slipped inside his subconscious and had Leo rolling to his side to burrow his face into the soft pillow.
“Come on, file mou. It’s morning. Time to open those pretty eyes of yours.”
When Leo’s eyes flew open and he saw Alasdair stretched out on the bed by his side, his breath caught.
“Ahh. There you are.”
Damn, he’s nice to wake up to, he thought as he took in his luscious lips and those eyes, which were roving all over his face as though he couldn’t stop himself from looking at every single one of his features.
“How long have I been asleep?” he asked as Alasdair reached for the sheet and pulled it down his body before letting it pool at his waist.
“A little over ten hours.”
“Ten hours?” he asked as he sat up, his voice hitting the highest note in his octave range, he was positive.
“Apparently, you needed it.” That observation had come from across the room, where Vasilios was lounging on the recliner, his legs crossed at the ankles. “Something Alasdair and I will have to remember going forward, no doubt. Along with the fact that you also have to eat food.” Vasilios glanced at the small bedside table, where a tray had a glass of orange juice and—
“Is that a Pop-Tart?”
“It is.”
Leo reached for the pastry and brought it to his mouth, but before he bit into it, he asked, “Have you ever eaten one of these?” His stomach growled, and when he took a bite of it he moaned. The sweet center was like heaven.
“No. I am delighted to say I have not. It was something Alasdair found in one of the other yieldings’ belongings.”
Leo looked to Alasdair, who was still lying beside him, his head resting on his palm as he stared up at him. His gaze was intense, and the scrutiny had Leo taking another bite of the toasted goodness.
“It’s really good,” he said around a mouthful. “Thanks. What about you two? Did you eat?” As he asked, he frowned. Then he added, “I mean, do you need to? Or what… Ugh, don’t worry.”
“Are you asking if we have killed anyone this morning, agóri?”
When a rich laugh rumbled out of Alasdair, Leo glared down at him.
“I’m getting sick of you laughing at me.”
One of Alasdair’s eyebrows rose and a smirk—yes, a full-on smirk—kicked the corner of his lips up.
“Stop it, you two. No arguing this early in the day,” Vasilios said as he stood. He was dressed in a loose, black robe, and when he untied the belt and let it fall to the floor, Leo halted the last half of the Pop-Tart when it was halfway to his mouth. “I need to get ready. We have a hearing in less than thirty minutes, and you two are distracting.”
As he shut the door to the bathroom behind him, Leo returned his eyes to Alasdair, who’d rolled to his back and put his hands behind his head.
“We’re distracting?”
“He’s hungry and frustrated. A combination that leaves Vasilios…illogical.”
“Frustrated?” Leo asked. Then he popped the last bite into his mouth and slid back down under the sheets. “Does that mean that you and he didn’t—”
Before he could finish, Alasdair shifted until he was stretched out over him, his hands pinned by his head on the mattress. “It means you better be ready later.”
“Thank you,” he whispered sincerely.
Alasdair’s eyes narrowed. “You are most confusing, file mou.”
“Am I?”
“Yes,” Alasdair said, but he offered no explanation as he pulled away to kneel between his legs. “You need to get up and ready. The trial was called early this morning.”
“The… Wait. The trial?” he repeated. “Vasilios called it a hearing.”
“He lied,” Alasdair said as he climbed off the bed.
Leo shoved the covers aside and followed. “He lied?”
“Are you having trouble hearing this morning, Leonidas?” Alasdair walked towards the door.
But Leo flashed over and around him in an instant and plastered his back to the wood.
“Move.”
�
�No. Not until you tell me what that means. He lied? So it’s not a hearing, as in listening and being reasonable about things. It’s a trial for—”
“That human you call Elias.”
“I know that,” he pushed out between clenched teeth. “What happens at a trial in vampire land?”
Alasdair glared at him, and as his intention entered his mind, Leo reached for him. He was too late, though, because all he was touching was thin air.
“Motherfucker.”
He looked over at the shut bathroom door. He really shouldn’t, but… Yeah, fuck it. Balling his fists, he strode over and swung the door wide. There, standing in amongst the steam, the fog, and the scorching water, was Vasilios. Leo slammed the door behind him and waited.
The male in the shower didn’t flinch, didn’t even make a move to show he was aware of the intrusion. He didn’t have to. Vasilios was always a step ahead. Hell, he probably knew the second I’d made the decision to come in here.
“I did, actually,” he said as he tilted his face up to the spray.
Leo couldn’t see the front of him, but the view from where he was standing was impressive as hell. The muscles of Vasilios’s back flexed as his arms moved, and his ass was tight and rounded.
“Careful, Leonidas. We don’t have time to explore those thoughts right now. Plus, you made your terms quite clear last night.”
Unable to help it, he grunted a frustrated sound, and when Vasilios turned, Leo’s eyes couldn’t help but take a quick trip over all of that wet, olive skin.
Hot, Greek, and male. Vasilios could’ve been a bronzed god people worshipped. But, as he walked out of the shower and snagged a towel to wrap around his waist, the wicked glint in his eyes made it obvious he was anything but a god.
Shaking himself out of his lustful imaginings, Leo said, “You lied to me.”
Vasilios sauntered over to him and admitted, “Yes. I did.” He stepped around him, opened the door, and made his way over to the impressive closet on the opposite side of the room.