Dark Secrets

by Madeline Pryce

  Hannah looked frantically back and forth between us. For some reason Ella’s sister had gotten all dolled up. She’d curled her hair or some shit to make it…poofy.

  “What about the family dinner?” she asked.

  Fuck. Roy, Ella’s uncle and my once mentor, was due back tonight. I glared at Ella before meeting Dante’s calm golden gaze. I gave him a quick shake of the head, silently telling him women were fucking crazy and if he were smart, he’d run for the hills while he could. Ella and I were forced into this cohabitating bullshit. Dante was choosing this crap of his own accord.

  For Hannah I managed a small, un-genuine smile. “Not in a family kind of a mood, kid.”

  I walked away and disappeared around the bend in the hallway with the single intention of finding my brother.

  I had plans to make and people to murder.

  Chapter Three

  I stared down the hall, the tears in my eyes blurring my vision. The tip of my nose tingled. Was I crying? What the hell was wrong with me? Micah vanished from sight right around the time I blinked, sending trails of hot moisture rolling down my cheeks. I swiped them away with a trembling hand, hoping to erase the evidence before my sister saw. I was not the crying type.

  Hannah said something, but I couldn’t make her words out over the pounding in my head. My focus was somewhere else entirely. Micah hadn’t denied cheating on me. He’d deflected.

  Julian—my sire and ex-lover—the person who was once my entire world, used to deflect all the time and I’d been too naive to realize it. Hormones made you reckless. Love made you stupid. Trust made you vulnerable.

  I’d been burned once and the price of my stupidity had cost me my soul. Was I doomed to make the same mistakes all over again? Either Micah didn’t trust me—hence him withholding vital information—or he didn’t respect me.

  The random blonde I envisioned in my head, the one I conjured the moment Micah carelessly threw out his remark about infidelity, curled her ruby-red lips up in a smirk. She straddled Micah’s lap and started an enthusiastic rhythm that had her gigantic tits bouncing up and down.

  Vomit curled in my belly and inched up the back of my throat. I pressed a hand against the worst of the stomach cramps and tried to breathe through the pain. In my mind, the images got worse.

  The bimbo threw her head back and screamed Micah’s name while he grabbed her bountiful ass and leaned forward to sink his teeth into her neck. The bite at my throat pulsed, a reminder of a different time when I’d been the one he’d wanted to nibble.

  Fuck Micah. Fuck how he made me feel. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

  Hannah touched my shoulder, drawing my attention. Even when she wasn’t wearing heels, my twenty-year-old sister towered over me. Next to her, more giant than man, Dante—a lion shifter—had a large hand wrapped possessively around her petite waist.

  They were golden, perfect, happy and reeked of sex. Their cute new coupleness made me want to hurl. Or punch something. Any of those things was better than the whiny emotions rioting through me. Since when had I gone all emo? What was next? Poetry written in blood while I lamented my crappy love life?

  Hannah had gotten all dolled up in a short red dress for dinner tonight. She’d curled her hair, and even though it was mussed—from Dante’s hands, I was going to assume—it looked really nice. Her makeup was without a single flaw, well except for her worn-off lip gloss, also probably Dante’s fault. Hannah, who’d fallen in a pit of depression after being tortured by Lizbeth, was back. This was also because of Dante. I should have thanked him, but it was hard to do when he was stealing her away from me.

  I added up my losses. Micah didn’t trust me. Hannah didn’t need me. The agency I’d given my life to wanted me dead.

  The blonde in my head blew me a kiss. I was going to stab that bitch in her crotch if she didn’t vacate my thoughts.

  My sister’s expressive green eyes met mine. “Ella?”

  I shook my head so violently the end of my hair whipped me in the face. “I’m fine,” I lied.

  I was going to break into hysterics any second and that sure as shit wasn’t happening in front of Dante. On the rare occasion it happened, I was an ugly crier. Splotches. Snot. Sniveling. No thanks, I looked bad enough as it was.

  “You are so not fine,” Hannah said softly. “What just happened between you two? And what’s with the car-sized hole in the training room?”

  I backed up against the wall until my butt and shoulders made contact. I slid against the hard surface and sat on the floor with my bent legs tucked to my chest. Hannah sat on one side, Dante took position on the other. God they smelled. The scents translated to images I didn’t want. Sandwiched between them, I felt like a voyeur in their bedroom…or wherever it was he’d banged my sister.

  I dropped my forehead to my knees and concentrated on drawing breaths in through my mouth. “Micah threw a fireball at my head, it hit the wall instead.”

  “No shit?” Dante said as Hannah asked, “That’s why you’re mad?”

  Their words overlaid each other. How friggin’ cute.

  I ignored them both. “Then I found out his mother is still alive.” I glanced at Dante to gauge his reaction. If he knew, I was going to go ballistic in a creatively violent way that involved my favorite Brimstone blade.

  His pulse sped. The second my gaze met his, he looked away. He so knew. Micah had trusted him, and not me.

  I shoved up to my feet, winced at the pain in my side and pointed at him. Lucky for him I was unarmed. “You knew!”

  He rose and pulled Hannah up with him. When he spoke to me, his voice was soft and soothing—two things that might have worked if they hadn’t made me want to castrate him.

  “Nothing was set in stone, Ella. He was going to tell you, he felt bad—”

  I shifted my death-ray glare to Hannah and cut Dante off. “Did you know too?” I ignored her surprise, fury boiling through me at how naïve I’d been. “Why didn’t the asshole just send out coffee mugs like the ‘I’m a walking STD’ one he made for Eli? They could announce, ‘My mom’s alive, don’t tell Ella’.”

  My sister lifted both hands as if to say “I’m innocent” and took a step back. Dante wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against him as if to protect her from me.

  “This is all news to me, including the mug—which is funny, but highly disgusting,” she said.

  “Ella!” Uncle Roy’s voice carried through the halls, originating from somewhere on one of the lower levels of the sprawling house.

  Wonderful. Just fan-fucking-tastic. Family dinner.

  And because I was me and the fates had it out for me… “Ella, come out, come out wherever you are,” Julian sang, his accented voice coming seconds after my uncle’s.

  The universe hated me. I closed my eyes and leaned the side of my face against the chilled wall.

  Hannah pressed her lips to my cheek. In my ear, she whispered, “Micah’s a jerk. I’ll stall them.”

  Eyes still closed, I listened as Hannah and Dante’s footsteps faded away and left me alone. My solitude was temporary. I felt Julian, the slight shifting in the air, the pulse of static, before my sire appeared at my side—phazing to me.

  Min askling. His rich, sexy voice tickled the inside of my head through our sire-fledgling connection. Even though I’d gotten very good at shielding him, my methods weren’t perfect. Especially when he was in the same room. Hearing his voice had my fangs pulsing, a reminder I hadn’t had blood in weeks.

  I was officially back on the wagon.

  “Don’t call me that,” I snapped, settling on anger.

  Somehow this was his fault. I blamed the vampire for seducing me. For making me fall in love. For ruining me. For creating this darkness inside me that craved violence.

  Waves of comfort surrounded me like a soft, fluffy cloud on a warm sunny day. Sunshine was something I’d never again experience thanks to the threat of fried retinas. For a second, a really stupid one, I was tempted to turn into the warmth my
sire offered.

  I snapped the hell to my senses.

  Clouds were made of water. They were wet and cold—Julian was a manipulative fuck.

  “Ugh.” I shoved Julian away from me and frowned up at him. “Get out of my head, ass!”

  He grinned as if I’d said something cute. Luckily, him tearing out my heart and stomping on it had given me immunity to his stunning looks. His blond hair was tied back, leaving his handsome, angled face bare. He was beautiful, I couldn’t deny that, but he wasn’t rugged. Not like my Micah.

  If Micah was still even mine.

  Julian leaned against the wall and his white silk shirt gapped slightly where the first few buttons were undone. “You’re upset.”

  “Now isn’t a good time. Go away.”

  Julian pressed his hands into the pockets of his black slacks. “I came by to make sure you have everything you need for the coronation ceremony. Did the dress I bought you fit? Shall I send someone over to tailor it? You’ve lost weight.”

  I glared.

  In two days I was expected to dress up and play nice for a group of vampires who wanted nothing more than to cut off my head and dethrone me. A public venue was Julian’s solution to the rogue problem—a situation that fell on my shoulders and made me responsible for more than fifty human deaths in the last couple of months because I couldn’t step up and do what needed to be done. Police the bloodsuckers.

  To save my life after Lizbeth had gutted me, I agreed to play queen to his king. My sire had even had his lawyers draw up a contract. Karma was punishing me for my evil deeds.

  “I’m not wearing that scrap of material you just referred to as a dress.”

  Julian swept my body from head to toe with a slow, lingering glance as if he were imagining me in the electric-blue silk. Through our connection, his need for me came across loud and clear. There was something else there, something shadowy and vague.

  A secret.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Wha—”

  “So you tried it on, then?” He cut me off before I could speak.

  Unease gripped my stomach and I couldn’t tell if it was from the ever-increasing physical distance between me and Micah or if Julian was causing it.

  “I’m not going. Not without Micah.”

  “You agreed, min askling.” He pressed a bent finger under my chin and lifted my head until our electric-blue gazes met.

  Julian never just touched me. No, that would’ve been too simple. His every caress held the weight of memories past, the ones before he’d broken my heart.

  “You may bring your wolves, but other than that, I refuse to share you. You’re mine, little one.”

  He stepped close and pressed a hand so cold it was jarring against my bruised ribs. I jerked. He slid his palm down the hurt and cupped my hip. His touch, however unwelcome, made my body yearn for something more—made me crave Micah’s hands on my skin. When I tried to pull away, Julian snaked inside my mind and grabbed hold of my motor functions. Either I was getting sloppy at blocking him, or my sire hadn’t really shown me what master vampires could do.

  “Knock it off,” I managed to say through gritted teeth.

  Paralyzed, I could do little more than hope my glare would incinerate him. He pulled me gently into him as if he were giving me a choice. The soft silk fabric of his pants tickled my mostly bare legs and my brain fuzzed out as Julian forced his attraction on me.

  His breath feathered across my parted lips. “I smell blood, can taste your grief. I won’t stand aside and let anyone hurt you, not even your mongrel.”

  “What about you? Who stops you from hurting me?”

  Julian stroked the side of my cheek. “What has your demon done this time?”

  I shook my head, tried to take a step back. Julian tightened his hold on me, both physically and mentally. His face, soft and sexual seconds ago, hardened.

  “Tell me, Ella,” he demanded.

  His words settled into my brain and forced a reply, my mouth opening, words spilling out without my command.

  “He didn’t hurt me.” I licked my lower lip. “I mean, he did—”

  Julian pressed a finger against my mouth, sealing it closed. My heart sped in fury.

  “I don’t want your excuses. He should be protecting you and he’s not. I know how hard things have been on you, the guilt you so desperately try to hide. Don’t ever forget that I’m in your head. I’ll take care of it, all of it, if only you’ll trust me.”

  I searched his gaze, our connection, and felt an odd sliver of excitement on his end. He was planning something but I didn’t know how to chase after his thoughts and discover the truth of his lies.

  “I’ll never trust you again. Let me go, Julian or so help me god, I’ll cut off your balls and shove them up your ass.”

  He lifted the right side of his mouth in an amused smirk and retreated from my head.

  The second I was free, I brought my knee up—my intention his groin—only to have him sidestep the blow.

  “So violent. Now, how about I escort you to dinner so you can spend some time with your uncle? He’s been gone for several weeks, has he not?”

  Before I could answer, he hooked his arm in mine and led me down the hall. The hard floor was cold under my feet, reminding me I was still in my workout clothes. Not to mention Eli had shifted on top of me, which was all kinds of disgusting. I needed a hot shower, clothes and some weapons.

  We passed a rectangular mirror with an ornate, gaudy frame that went well with the frilly rose Victorian-era wallpaper. Julian stood tall and regal. At his side, I looked plain and disheveled. Nothing like a queen.

  “I used to walk this path with Lizbeth, arm in arm.”

  “Her name makes me want to vomit.”

  Julian continued speaking as if I hadn’t said anything. “She didn’t spend much time in this house. There’s an estate up north she preferred.”

  I wondered, without wanting to, how many times in the two years we’d dated he’d been with her and lied about it after. The thought made me ill. I wasn’t enough. Not then and perhaps not now.

  “I never touched her while I was with you. And is that why you are upset, your mongrel found someone to play with?”

  Bastard was reading my mind.

  “Here’s a thought, stay the fuck out of my head.”

  Julian continued down the halls, each step slow and measured, prolonging our chat, increasing the odds I’d figure out a way around the sire-fledging restrictions that kept me from killing him.

  “Did I ever tell you how I was turned?”

  “No. I asked once and you told me it didn’t concern me. That was right around the time you decided you knew what was best for me and changed me. You want to talk?” I glared up at him. “Let’s start there.”

  “I saved your life, Ella.”

  I stopped and turned to face him fully. At my side, I curled my hand into a fist. “I seriously hate you.”

  “It’ll pass.” He grabbed my arm and drew us down a flight of stairs. “I was a whore.”

  His announcement drew me to a stop. I gawked at him.

  “Close your mouth, dear.”

  I snapped it shut and he pulled on my arm until we resumed walking down the staircase to the lower level of the house where the distant chatter of voices beckoned.

  “Prostitution is the world’s oldest profession. I needed money and as you know,” he winked at me, “I excel at pleasing women.”

  “You excel at manipulation.”

  “Lizbeth had a woman’s desires and a girl’s body. Made it difficult for her to find lovers outside of her inner circle who weren’t, oh how did she put it…” He paused as if searching for the memory. His face lit up when he recalled it. “‘Creepy pedophiles’.”

  For years after Julian had abandoned me, I’d been fed image after image of him screwing another woman. I’d never seen her face, only knew how bad it hurt to know he was with someone else.

  “I’ve got the X-rated images forever bran
ded into my brain, thanks for that by the way.” I shuddered. “Keep your pedo tendencies to yourself.”

  “Age is but a number, you’ll learn that in a few centuries when everyone around you ages and dies. I became her favorite toy. She turned me, kept me at her side and invited me into her inner circle.”

  I thought of Micah and the imaginary bimbo. Of how I’d felt at eighteen while I was forced to watch Julian take another through our mental connection. “Didn’t it bother you she was with other men?”

  “And women. And no—when you live for eternity, your sexual horizons are broadened.” He turned to me at the bottom of the stairs and stroked my cheek.

  I swallowed, vaguely sickened by his words. In a hundred years—and that was if Micah inherited the immortal life span of a full-blooded demon—would he want to broaden his horizons?

  He leaned in closer and brushed his nose against mine as if he were going to kiss me. The tip trailed over my cheek. His breath coated my skin. He cupped my hip and whispered into my ear, “I’ll never stop loving you.”

  I pushed him away and shook my head. “Get over it.”

  I walked into the open dining room where Hannah, Dante and Roy sat at a long banquet-style table. Even though I’d thrown out the gold damask table runner and replaced the chairs, the room still reeked of blood and sex, as if this had been a room of nonstop orgies.

  My stomach churned and I looked at Hannah as she announced, “I’m moving in with Dante.”

  Well, okay then. My gaze bounced from my sister, whose heart was racing loud enough to catch my attention, to my uncle. The little girl in me wanted to rush up and throw my arms around him, to bury my face in his neck.

  But I wasn’t a child anymore. No, I was a vampire. A queen and a complete failure.

  As usual, Roy’s too-long hair, part gray and part brown, stuck up as if he’d spent the entire flight home running his hands through it. His glasses sat skewed on his nose. The lenses magnified the lines of tension bracketing his eyes.

  He spoke in a brisk, unfriendly tone, one I’d never heard him use with Hannah before. “I wasn’t even aware you were dating.”