by F. E. Heaton
"You are not lost or blind,” Venturi said close to her ear. She realised that he'd stood. “This is a time for strategy and preparation, not stress and worry. Everything will set in motion again soon enough. Make the most of the peace. Use your time wisely. Once the war begins there will be no time ... no time for anything."
She started when he placed his hand over hers on the table. Her eyes went wide and moved to it. She wanted to take hers away, but couldn't find the strength.
"Whatever happens, I will not let anything bad happen to you,” he whispered into the shell of her ear and her eyes closed for a moment.
She took her hand away from his, not daring to look at him for fear that she wasn't strong enough to resist the tempting comfort he would be offering her.
"I need to hunt,” she said and went straight to the door without looking back.
Not stopping to grab a coat, she walked down the gravel path to the main gate and past the guards. She turned down the long avenue towards the city centre, thinking only of hunting and trying to shut out what Venturi had said.
She looked up when she reached the end of the avenue and realised that this was the first time she'd been out alone since taking control of her bloodline.
Before she knew it, she was walking through the streets of central Prague. She idly scanned the faces of the people passing her by. It was still too early to hunt easily. With so many people around, it would be difficult to find a quiet area in which to kill. Her teeth itched at the thought of warm, fresh blood and she curled her hands up into fists to stop her claws from showing.
The eyes of some of the men she passed seemed to follow her, coursing down her body in a shameless way. They weren't locals. Their attitude and accent told her that. They were probably here on vacation. Some of them smelt of alcohol and it made her think of Paris and being drunk. She'd never thought that she could get drunk just from the blood of an intoxicated human, but she had. She realised now that it probably had something to do with her human side.
She looked down at her outfit when a group of men wolf-whistled in her direction. It wasn't outrageously sexy. She was wearing her boots, combats and a black camisole top. There was a moderate amount of cleavage on show, but the star on her chest obscured it.
One of the men brushed against her and she growled. She continued walking down the street, heading towards a less busy part of town. If the men followed her, she would have to kill them all in order to feed off one of them. She couldn't allow any of them to escape. If the local police were given a description of her, she'd never be able to hunt easily again.
The men didn't follow her and she found herself wandering the streets alone. The lights seemed dimmer down this end and the streets were hushed. No sound of cars or people came to her, just the distant hum of the area she'd left behind.
She was about to turn back and lure one of the men down here with her when she spotted someone sitting on a bench.
She studied them for a moment, keeping hidden in the shadows of a nearby building. They didn't seem happy and she wondered why they were alone. Still, a lonely male would make an easy kill.
As she approached them, she realised that they weren't human after all. It was an easy mistake to make at a distance. She left the shadow behind, heading towards the vampire at a slow, cautious pace.
He looked up when she was within a few metres of him and then looked around the streets. Her guard went up and she kept her eyes fixed on him. If it was a ploy to distract her, she wasn't going to fall for it.
He wasn't breathing which meant he was old, older than Valentine. She reached out with her senses, trying to judge his strength and age with them. He didn't feel as old as Mathias and Venturi did, but she could sense power in him. Her eyes ran over him, taking in his handsome face before dropping to assess his physique where it was barely hidden beneath his tight black t-shirt. He leaned casually back into the wooden bench and ran his arms out along the length of the top of it. The muscles in his arms tensed.
His eyes flashed red.
"What's a Vehemens doing in Prague?” she said in a relaxed tone, showing him that he wasn't scaring her in the slightest.
He looked around the streets again and then back at her.
She got the impression he wasn't the talking type.
"It's not often a Vehemens visits this city. In fact, I've barely met a handful of your bloodline, one of which was a Law Keeper.” She judged his reaction to that name. His brow raised, but he still didn't say anything.
Venturing a step forwards, she avoided stepping directly under the streetlight. It would dampen her vision and give him the advantage. She sidestepped the circle of light and came around on his other side.
"You don't look like you're on vacation. Here on business?"
"What business could I possibly have in this place?” His voice was deep and sullen, conveying with little effort exactly what he thought of her city. He didn't want to be here. Was there somewhere else he wanted to be?
He ran a hand over his short dark hair and then let it fall to rest on the back of the bench again.
"There are two powerful bloodlines in this city ... maybe you've come to be a hero."
"I have no interest in killing you,” he said and she realised that he knew who she was. He sighed. “I've come here to regain my strength and disappear."
She sniffed discreetly on hearing his words. Now that he'd brought her attention to it, she could smell a faint scent of blood in the air. He hadn't been looking around in an attempt to distract her; he'd been trying to find an avenue of escape.
"Why would you want to disappear?” she said, taking another step towards him. He tensed. She held her hands up and his eyes immediately moved to the amulet she wore. “I'm not going to hurt you."
He didn't look as though he believed her, but he made no move to leave. He relaxed back into the bench.
"Everyone who steps foot in this city is either coming to help you or kill you. They're not interested in me. It's a good thing."
"You're bleeding,” she said and stared at the sticky dark patch she could see on his side. “I can fix that."
She didn't know why she was offering to help him. For all she knew it could all be an act and he really could be here to kill her, but there was something about him, something so familiar. Her eyes widened. He looked lost, as lost as she felt inside.
Sitting down next to him, she kept her senses locked on him so he couldn't move a millimetre without her knowing about it.
He looked down at his side.
"It doesn't want to heal,” he said with a grimace, prodding his side. “Bloody demon that did it made sure of that."
"Demon? There's a demon trying to kill you?” She smiled when he looked at her. The second his hand moved away from his side, she pressed hers against it.
He roared in pain and managed to snap the top bar of the wooden bench with the hand that had been resting against it, but he didn't lash out at her. She quickly withdrew her hand when she'd finished and sprung away from the bench, placing some distance between them in case he chose to fight her.
He didn't. He just stared at his side and then at her.
"I don't need to know your story ... but consider this ... when the war comes ... you better not be fighting against me.” She held his gaze and was surprised when he shook his head.
"I never did believe what they told me about you."
"What who told you?"
"My lord, my family, my blood sister."
"By the Devil ... are you saying...?” She wondered if she would have healed him if she'd realised before that he was the Chosen Son of the Vehemens.
"Thank you, Prophecy. I'm indebted to you.” He stood and smiled winsomely.
"I think I at least deserve to know your name."
His smile became a grin. “Lincoln."
Before she could say anything, he'd disappeared into the night.
She frowned when her stomach growled at her, reminding her that she still
hadn't fed, and then stared in the direction the man had gone. What was he doing hiding in her shadow? Surely if someone was after him, he was safest with his family?
Turning away and heading in the opposite direction to the one he'd gone in, she switched her senses from defensive to offensive. Her eyes scanned the street ahead of her when she stopped at the corner. She willed someone to come to her. Her stomach twisted again, this time more painfully. She clutched at it and growled.
Her lips curved into a fiendish smile when she spotted someone waving goodbye to their friends and heading towards her.
She slipped back into the shadows a fraction, her whole body tensing, waiting to pounce on the person. It was a girl. She could smell her perfume as she got closer.
Her claws extended at the same time as her fangs. She licked them. Anticipation rose inside of her, intoxicating her almost as much as the blood would. She stopped her breathing and waited, listening to the approaching footsteps echoing around the quiet street.
They were so close.
Her eyes dropped to the floor, focusing on the point where the woman's foot would appear.
The second it edged into view, she grabbed her around the neck and dragged her backwards into the shadows. Her hand covered the woman's mouth and her senses screamed with desire over what was to come. She held her a moment, listening for a sign of anyone else and making sure they were alone.
Yanking the woman's head to one side, she dipped her head and breathed in the warm sweetness of her neck. She could smell the blood and hear her heart thundering. It sounded as though it was going to burst. Prophecy's lips parted and she breathed heavily with the riot of feelings racing through her. Her eyes half closed at the thought of blood and she licked her lips. She paused for a second to make the most of the moment and then sunk her fangs deep into the woman's neck. The woman struggled against her, her frantic gasps dampening the palm of Prophecy's hand where it covered her mouth. Prophecy bit down harder, burying her lower teeth into the back of her neck and growling when the hot blood filled her mouth.
She gulped it down greedily and put her free arm across the woman's front, keeping her still and trapping her arms. She released the woman's neck and then bit down again, this time closer to the jugular. Blood burst into her mouth and spilled from the corners of her lips when she grinned. She frantically licked it up, not wanting to waste a drop, and then frowned when she realised that the woman was dead.
Dragging the body towards the river, she tossed it in and licked her fingers while she walked along the waterfront, letting her feet carrying her wherever they wanted to go.
Chapter 7
Prophecy looked up and frowned at the mansion in front of her. It wasn't hers. Her eyes dropped to her hand and she saw the red magic lazily encircling her fingers. They moved to her chest and she touched the faintly glowing star there.
Had her heart brought her here?
Deep inside, she was scared. Her heart feared and the magic had responded to it by bringing her here to Valentine.
Walking along the perimeter wall, she eventually came to the gatehouse. She remembered the last time she'd been here and wondered if the guards would remember her.
They blocked her path as she approached and when their eyes filled with fear, she took it as a yes.
They remembered her. Seeing your friends killed was probably a hard thing to forget.
"I've come to see your lord,” she said in her most confident tone.
They didn't budge at first; they just stared at her with hard, cold eyes. When she tensed her jaw and narrowed her eyes, they stepped to one side. She didn't bother thanking them.
Entering the house, she ignored the looks she got from all the people who had stopped to stare and searched for Cornelius. If anyone knew where Valentine was, it would be him. There was a jostling amongst the people and then Cornelius appeared. He hurried forwards, the quick motion causing his blond hair to fall down over his eyes. She suppressed the smile that wanted to spring onto her lips when he continually pushed it out of his face, only for it to fall back again.
"Lady Prophecy,” he greeted her in an out of breath voice.
"Is Valentine home?” She kept her voice steady and smiled gracefully when Cornelius nodded and held his arm out to one side.
She followed him through the house, her eyes constantly scanning the faces of the people she passed. They all seemed unnerved to see her and she wondered if Valentine had told them about the ball yet. She wondered something else too.
"Um, Cornelius?” she said.
He stopped and turned to face her, his brows raised into an expectant look.
"When Valentine came back last night...” She tried to think of the best way to broach the subject. “Did he mention the ball?"
"Yes."
"Did anything happen?"
Cornelius started walking again and she fell into line beside him.
"He killed an elder who spoke out against your family."
"Oh,” she said and struggled to keep up with him. He seemed in an awful hurry. “Is that why they're all scared of me?"
"They think you've come to finish the job, but they should really be worried that Valentine will."
"Why?” She stopped when he did and looked at the door they were next to.
"He's in a terrible mood. Excuse me ... I've ... I've ... got matters to attend to.” With that, he was scurrying off down the hall as fast as his legs would carry him.
She stared at the door and considered leaving, but then she remembered what Venturi had said.
When this war started there wouldn't be time for anything.
She knocked on the door and then turned the handle, not waiting for an answer. Walking into the room, she closed the door behind her and flicked the lock. There were no lights on in the room, but the pale silvery light of the moon made up for that as it streamed in through the window. Valentine was standing on a small balcony outside. Both of the glass doors to it were open. His shadow stretched long across the floor to where she stood.
She watched him for a moment, studying the sweeping curve of his bare back while he stared at the world outside. His head was tilted slightly upwards. Was he staring at the moon and the stars? Her eyes followed the strong line of his arm to his hand as he raised it. He gripped something in it. It glinted in the light.
A bottle?
He swigged the contents and when he lowered it again, she could see that it was half full with a clear liquid. She frowned, struggling to make out what the label said where it was partly obscured by his hand.
Did he even know she was there?
"What are you thinking?” she said quietly, breaking the silence.
His back tensed. He brought the bottle up again and drank more of the liquid.
"You,” he said in a low voice full of so many different emotions that she didn't know what to make of it. There was anger in there, but affection and hurt too. His fingers tensed around the neck of the bottle and she flinched, waiting for the glass to give way under the pressure. It didn't. He lessened his grip and his shoulders sagged. “That devil of a Tenebrae."
She wondered if he could see everything without having to be there. Walking towards him, she stopped as she reached him and ran her hand up his back. Her eyes traced his profile while he drank again. She caught a glimpse of the bottle's label. Vodka.
"Does that even help?” she said. “It takes a lot to get drunk."
"I do not wish to get drunk. I just want the pain to lessen."
Guilt settled in her stomach and she fought hard to remind herself that she'd done nothing wrong. It was all Venturi's fault, not hers. Although she had affections for Venturi, she would never act on them. She loved Valentine too much to hurt him.
Taking the bottle from him, she swigged it and then placed it down on the desk beside her. She turned him to face her. He looked beautiful bathed in soft moonlight. It played on his bare chest and shoulders, highlighting his defined muscles with glowing silver lines.
She smiled. “I can ease the pain."
His eyes dropped to her body and there was a flicker of hunger in them. Heat settled in her stomach when he placed his hands against her hips and shifted them upwards, pushing the bottom of her camisole up so his fingers were brushing against her bare sides.
"What did you have in mind?” he whispered in a husky voice that had no trace of anger or hurt left in it.
Her smile turned coy. “Seducing you."
He eyed her suspiciously. “Is that why you came here?"
She nodded. “That, and I missed you."
He seemed reluctant and she got the feeling that he needed more convincing. There was an edge of doubt in his eyes.
"Valentine,” she whispered, her hands lingering on his chest. “Look at me."
His eyes met hers. They seemed to search them and his hands came up to catch hers.
"Tell me he means nothing to you.” His grip on her hands tightened.
"I'm not in love with him, Valentine. My feelings for him are a minute fraction of what I feel for you."
She dodged him when he went to kiss her. He growled and she shook her head.
"I can't seduce you if you do that,” she said with a wicked smile and he grinned.
Drawing her hands away from his chest, she held onto his and led him towards the bed. She'd never been in his room before. It reminded her a little of her own but seemed much larger. The two mansions had been built around the same time so it was no surprise that they had a similar layout.
Sitting him down, she stepped back and took a deep breath while she looked at him. He leaned back, splaying his hands out behind him to support him, and she couldn't take her eyes off his body when every muscle tensed. She mentally berated him for distracting her and went back to the table. Picking up the bottle of vodka, she took a hefty swig and swallowed it down.
A glance at Valentine revealed that he was still waiting for her, his eyes fixed intently on her body.