by Aja James
“You are one of us now. You are a Dark One.”
Gabriel narrowed his gaze but didn’t blink. “Which means exactly what?”
She held his penetrating stare and answered, “Humans have called us many things over the course of time, but perhaps one epithet will resonate the most: vampire.”
*** *** *** ***
“No trace of the club remains,” Anastasia, the vampire Queen’s head of security, reported. “But we have enough footage of the fights and the spectators to begin tracking some leads.”
Three of the Chosen, Ana, Maximus and Devlin, had set out to the fight club’s location as soon as the sun had set, but the Russian mafia had been busy during the day, removing all evidence of the previous night’s events.
The only items they had not destroyed were the infrared cameras hidden and installed in strategic locations by the Pure Ones’ human infiltrator. They did not know the identity of the person, both as a means of protection for the human but also because the Pure Ones, wisely, did not fully trust Jade Cicada’s intentions.
They did provide the Chosen with access to the video footage, however, which came in handy.
“It is not only the Russian mafia organizing these events, which they have begun to stream live internationally through an encrypted channel,” Maximus disclosed. “The Italians, Irish, Chinese, Koreans, inner city gangs—perhaps more that we have not yet discovered—are all getting involved. This racket is throwing off more profit than the drug, arms and sex trade combined. And its attraction and reach are growing exponentially through the Net.”
Jade sighed impatiently, her nails clicking in a staccato beat on the armrest of her luxurious throne. “We must cut off the head of the serpent,” she said softly, thoughtfully, “but we must find it first.”
“We do know that at least one seasoned warrior from our fold is either the mastermind or a conspirator,” Devlin spoke up in his careless tone, as if he could just as well have kept this information to himself. “I did some homework during the day and narrowed it down to a few possibilities.”
When no more was forthcoming, Simone Lafayette, the Keeper, grew exasperated on behalf of present company. “Well? Who are they?”
Devlin smiled and ignored her question. Holding the vampire Queen’s gaze, he said, “With your permission, my Queen, I shall hunt the serpent down, but I do it alone.”
Jade considered him for a few heartbeats.
“So be it,” she finally declared. As Devlin bowed and left on his mission, Jade turned to the remaining Chosen and delivered rapid-fire orders.
“Ryu, see if you can hack the encryption and block further broadcasts. But first piggyback onto their network to ascertain their next moves.”
While the Assassin lacked Devlin’s genius with all things technology, he could still take down a CIA firewall with ease.
“Maximus and Anastasia, follow the money trail and seize what accounts you can. If cash doesn’t exchange hands, we’ll at least take out some of the oxygen fueling the blaze.”
When only the Keeper remained, Jade rose from her seat and stepped down to stand before the glass wall behind the throne, overlooking the cityscape below.
New York was so beautiful at night, but with his blood, she could also enjoy it during the day, though she did no more than bask in the wintry sunlight for a short while and watch the hustle and bustle of the city awakening.
“My lady, what task do you have for me?” Simone inquired when Jade remained silent for a long time.
Finally, when she thought Jade would not answer, the Queen said, “Find out what you can about Seth Tremaine. His role as the Pure Ones’ Consul. His immortal… and his human past.”
Readily, Simone accepted her assignment. She was only surprised that the Queen had not asked her sooner. It was an investigation she had started on her own from the moment Tremaine set foot on the premises.
Now she had the full backing of the Cove to complete it.
*** *** *** ***
Gabriel took a deep gulp of January air, then another, and another.
Though he was bare chested and bare footed on the concrete terrace that stretched along the wall of windows in the living area, and the winter wind was whistling in the air, he did not feel the cold.
Was this another trait of his new state of being? Immunity to extreme temperatures? In truth, he felt as hot as a volcano about to erupt despite the sub-zero conditions.
The woman behind him made no sound, but he was as aware of her presence as his own furiously thumping heart.
She had not said a word since she followed him out onto the balcony and the Pure Ones had dispersed inside the apartment, and neither had he. He needed to sort through his chaotic thoughts first.
Strangely, upon discovering that he was no longer part of the human race, his first reaction was acceptance, and even a certain amount of gratitude, for somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he would have died otherwise.
And he needed to live.
For Benji. He found that he was not ready to leave his son in someone else’s care, even though that individual had proven to be a reliable guardian in the past two days, despite the adversity of their current situation.
The second reaction was an uncomfortable realization: he wanted to live for himself.
For the first time in his life, he felt truly awakened, as if he had been in a haze all along, and though his mind was still blanketed by a dense fog, interrupted by alarmingly frequent blackouts, he finally felt as if the wall around his consciousness that he hadn’t realized existed was beginning to crumble.
The third recognition was that she had triggered it all.
Though it made no sense and he wanted to bang his head on the concrete column next to him in frustration, he knew that Nana Chastain was the one who had breathed life into him—perhaps literally.
He turned now to face the woman who had saved him.
Made him.
“You turned me into a… Dark One,” he stated, rather than asked.
She gave one slow nod, holding his gaze intently.
“How?”
She inhaled long and deeply and kept her position by the sliding doors, as if she wanted to run from him but knew that she had to stay. She seemed always to run from him.
“When you died, before your soul departed your body, I gave you my blood to keep you there.”
Said so matter-of-factly, without any inflection or change of expression. When you died. I gave you my blood.
“That’s all it takes to make vampires out of humans?” Gabriel wondered why there weren’t more bloodsuckers running around.
She shook her head. “A vampire would have to share a part of her soul with the human. In most cases, the human’s soul has already departed, because the process of forcing another consciousness into the body is very… arduous. The result of typical turnings is that the vampire loses part of herself in the human shell, and the new vampire is not quite whole. Both the creator and the creation could turn to madness if they do not control themselves, if the shared soul is not strong enough.”
“In most cases,” Gabriel picked up on her phrasing, “but not in mine.”
She did not reply for a long time. He did not prod her. If he was truly what they said he was, he could afford to keep waiting.
“Not in your case,” she finally agreed and said nothing more.
He continued to stare at her, but she did not seem to have the inclination or will to continue. Her eyes flickered as if she lacked the courage as well.
“And how does it work, exactly, if my body is now crowded with more than just my own soul?” he asked quietly. There was no way he would let her escape from answering.
She swallowed as her eyes lowered momentarily, her long, gold-tipped lashes fluttering as if she were fragile and vulnerable.
Gabriel clenched his jaw as the ridiculous desire to comfort her almost overwhelmed him.
When she looked back into his eyes, he saw a steely det
ermination there, as if she were bracing herself for retribution against a wrong she’d committed but was not sorry for.
“We are Bonded, you and I, until one of us perishes,” she stated in a clear, steady voice. “In my Kind, we would be called Blooded Mates. In the human world, I suppose the closest thing would be marriage, except there is no divorce, no going back.”
Ironic, that, Gabriel thought. Just a while ago, Benji had wished for their marriage.
“And I had no say in this?” his words were but a whisper, seemingly innocuous yet lethal.
Was it his imagination or did her deep blue eyes fill with unshed tears? Gabriel ground his back molars. There went that stupid instinct to protect her again, even against his own inquisition.
“I am sorry,” she said huskily, and he felt her pained contrition as if it were his own. “No, you did not choose this path consciously. You were beyond choice at that point. I am solely accountable for the decision.”
Gabriel took a step toward her, so that mere inches separated them.
He braced an arm beside her head, his hand on the sliding doors behind her, and leaned in so that she was barricaded by the lean, muscled wall of his body, his heat surrounding them both, his breath fogging the air between their faces.
“Why me,” the question was more of a statement, a low, rumbling rasp that raised the baby fine hairs all over her skin.
Inanna could have prevaricated.
She could have given him half-truths.
I saved you because Benji needs his father. I saved you because you could probably give us information about the fight clubs that would be the key to blowing up the scheme and capturing those responsible.
But the truth was none of those things.
When she Bonded him to her, Mated them to each other, she had been thinking of none of those things.
Only one word blocked out all else in her mind: Mine.
“I wanted you,” she said at last, holding his mesmerizing gaze. “So I claimed you.”
His pupils dilated at her words, fleeting expressions of confusion, fury and lust chasing each other across his face.
She closed the last bit of distance between them until they were flush against one another, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, the chunky heel of her combat boots giving her extra height to almost match his. Her lips were exactly level with his jawline, so she rested them there as her arms came around his back, her hands flattening against his spine, then traveling downwards until they each cupped one of his buttocks and exerted pressure enough to bring his groin into the notch between her legs.
“I want you,” she breathed against his throat, the whispered words like a vow that sealed their fates.
All at once Gabriel’s control snapped like a live wire twisting loose with electricity. He crushed her with his torso to the glass doors and took her mouth with a savage growl.
There was no preamble, no warning. He thrust his tongue inside her wet warmth and plundered, demanded, punished. He wasn’t remotely gentle. This wasn’t a kiss by any means. It was an assault, and he intended to make her pay.
Exactly what he wanted from her he didn’t know and didn’t care. All the pain, chaos and fury inside of him needed an outlet, and she was it.
It didn’t matter that he’d never done this before. It didn’t register that he was shaking from head to toe with an undefinable emotion as if he was coming apart. His tongue thrust into her again and again, imitating what his hips were doing against her middle. He bit her, licked at her, devoured her, and the more he came at her, the more she took.
Inanna angled her head to better receive his attack, like a fortress lowering its drawbridge to enemy invaders.
What was a woman to do when she loved the enemy?
Ah, but that was the wrong analogy. He was never her enemy. Not even now when she’d pushed him to the point of no return.
It didn’t matter that he came to her in anger. It only mattered that he was hers, anger and all.
Finally hers.
She devoured him right back, tangling her tongue with his, sucking at his lips, nipping his lower one until she drew blood, pulling him deeper into her until his hardness pushed mind-numbingly against her pleasure spot. Even through the layers of their clothes, she was on the verge of orgasm from the inexorable pressure.
Abruptly, Gabriel pushed apart from her and staggered back a step until they were no longer touching.
Chest heaving, heart hurting, brain near exploding, he swiped his forearm across his mouth, wiping her away.
Inanna’s throat closed up at the gesture.
What did she expect? That he would welcome her with open arms when he learned of their forced union? That he would suddenly return the feelings she had built up and stored over the last six years?
He barely knew her. And if he knew her role as the Angel of Death, her role in his immediate past, he would most likely hold her in loathing and disgust. And now he was tied to her forever.
Until death do us part.
Wordlessly, he stalked past her, careful not to touch her in passing, and went inside the apartment.
That went rather well, Inanna thought as she leaned back against the glass doors that slid closed, her legs having turned to rubber.
And she hadn’t even delivered the coup de grace: as Blooded Mates they depended on one another for continued survival.
Blood and sex.
*** *** *** ***
The creature lounged on the monstrous, luxurious bed in its silent, sound-proofed chamber, pitch black save for a dish of small flickering candles on its bedside table.
Alone again.
The eerie glow illuminated a chess board with a game in progress propped on top of a square pillow on the bed. The creature examined each individual piece with meticulous care, almost lovingly, picking them up, polishing them, replacing them back on the board in their exact places.
Satisfied, the creature lay back among the satin sheets, its head supported by goose down pillows, and looked up into the giant mirror that formed the bed’s canopy.
An impossibly beautiful man-woman looked back.
Long, dark hair spread beneath and around it on crimson bedding. Translucent pale skin, smoother than ivory. An oval face with a sharp, angular jaw. Full red lips moist with wine and… other things. Sleek arching brows over almond-shaped, thickly lashed eyes.
The eyes, though, were the ugliest part of it, in its own opinion at least. Bottomless voids of nothingness.
Was it true that eyes were the windows to the soul? If so, the creature wondered whether its soul was as black as the pupils that all but swallowed the irises around them.
Clinically, its gaze roved over the naked flesh revealed by its open robe. The salted wounds would take longer to heal, especially in its current state. Fluids and blood seeped between its thighs, still fresh and pungent. The pain that burned from the inside out was a familiar companion.
Its visitor would be so disappointed to discover that she was, after all, not that original in her depravities.
Ever so slightly, its lips parted on an icy breath, revealing the glinting tips of its vampire fangs.
Abruptly, its face and form changed to an altogether different visage. And again and again, it transformed until it confused even itself what its true form was.
Finally, as if in exhaustion, its body shed the false skins, unable to maintain the mirage any longer, and the creature regarded its real reflection in the overhead mirror.
A tear of blood welled in its soulless eyes and slid unrepentantly down its cheek.
Stupid tear, it thought as its lips twisted to disguise an infinitesimal quiver.
Just because something ached in the vicinity of its chest did not mean it possessed a heart. Just because the acid in the back of its throat tasted of shame did not mean it possessed any pride.
The smile turned mocking and derisive.
Just because it longed for something it could never have, missed and mourned the absence o
f that lovely dream, did not mean it would ever know love.
*** *** *** ***
Inanna spent most of the night driving aimlessly in her Lamborghini. Hours of tunnels and bridges, winding roads and lightless streets.
As if led by a beacon she could not see, her final stop before dawn was “Dark Dreams”, Mama Bear’s bakery, tea and antique shop.
The woman in question opened her shop door before Inanna even raised her fist to knock.
“Come in, come in,” she said in her musical accent, ushering Inanna inside with a warm, welcoming smile.
“You look worse for wear, my dear,” Mama Bear observed, peering at Inanna with wise eyes over her bifocals. “I know just the thing to set you at ease.”
She hustled into the back of the shop beyond a curtain of beads while Inanna settled in her favorite chair. She could not quite determine the time and place from which it originated, but she was sure it was ancient enough to be priceless.
Mama Bear returned with a fresh batch of scones and home-made jam. On the tray she held were also a small pot of chamomile tea and two dainty China teacups dating back to the eighteenth century, probably the “newest” items in her shop.
“Now tell me what troubles you, my dear,” Mama Bear encouraged, laying a comforting hand on Inanna’s shoulder before seating herself in an adjacent chair.
Always the same words or some version thereof, Inanna reflected briefly. Did she only come here when she had troubles? She couldn’t recall another person she’d ever unburdened herself to. Not her father, certainly. But there was…
Inanna squeezed her eyes shut to block the memory from surfacing.
It was imperative that she didn’t remember, she knew. For the sake of self-preservation if nothing else.
“I got married,” Inanna said, looking at the teacup in her hands rather than the woman she was speaking to.
As such, she missed the sharp glance that swept her face before returning to neutrality once more.
“Congratulations, my girl,” Mama Bear said softly, sincerely. “I wish you all the happiness in the world.”