by Vivienne Cox
Vivienne Cox
Lust By Blood
A M/M Historical Romance
Copyright © 2020 by Vivienne Cox
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
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Contents
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter Notes
Also by Vivienne Cox
1
Chapter 1
“Master Florence.”
Long had it been since he had been assigned to the household in Holstein, familiar walls gilded in white and the scent of sylleblossoms thick throughout Fenestala Manor. It had been a lifetime, truly, since he had been guided to their doorstep at age six, since he had first knelt upon the dais and swore his allegiance to the House Florence, and become personal servant to the young prince Lucian.
Well, young was not an apt term, he supposed, and peered across the room at the vampire currently lounging along the chaise. Lucian was hundreds of years old. Nevermind that in the light cast by the fire, soft and warm and inviting like the fanged smile turned upon him, Lucian still looked the picture of twenty-eight.
“Ignatius,” he greeted, voice low and lazy. His eyes were still glazed. Coming down from a blood high, Ignatius perceived, and pursed his lips at the reminder that he was the only human servant that was allowed within these hallowed halls.
He did not pretend to be unafraid, even now. Lucian’s bloodlust was occasionally uncomfortable, viable in only the way Ignatius could watch those mismatched eyes follow him along the room. Despite his position, Ignatius did not wished to be turned. Most said it was only a matter of time, but Ignatius trusted Lucian more than that. It did not stop the trickle of fear, ever so occasionally, but his life here was comfortable. Good. He was grateful, and enjoyed the company he had in the manor.
That asides, like this? Lucian was compliant, calmer, more at ease. Ignatius drank in the sight, and smiled warmly in return.
“Your Highness,” he said, and carefully bowed. He was still balancing a tray upon his left hand, two empty, bloodied glasses set atop.
Lucian’s huff might have been laughter, if he were up to it. An extended arm, pale and stark against the deep crimson of the chaise. “Come,” he said, and Ignatius raised an eyebrow.
“I am working, Your Highness.”
“Consider it a task, then,” Lucian fired back. His succinct snark never ceased to amuse. Ignatius vaguely wondered if perhaps it went both ways.
“Very well,” he said lightly, and stepped forward. “May I take your glass, sire?”
Lucian made a noise. Noncommental though it were, he raised his hand to twirl the stem of the wine glass between his fingers, and then offered it out to Ignatius.
Ignatius took it, and Lucian took his arm.
The touch barely startled him at this juncture. Yes, he possessed a certain amount of self-preservation fueled fear, but he did not fear him like this. And, in a certain kind of way, he welcomed the prince’s touch.
Those, however, were things he dare not admit.
Nimble fingers against his skin. The pass of cool, uncalloused pads of fingers, the faintest press of a fingernail along the vein at the underside of his arm. Ignatius shivered, ever so slightly, and Lucian grinned wider.
“I wouldn’t hurt you, Ignatius.”
“I know,” he said immediately.
“I would never hurt you…”
“I trust you, sire.”
Another pass of his thumb against Ignatius’s vein. Lucian hesitated, and then let go. “You trust me too much, Hanstrom,” he said, and Ignatius did not agree.
“I owe you my life,” he said shortly, and bowed when Lucian waved him away.
“One I will not risk,” Lucian said, and continued, as sharply as he could in this intoxicated state. “Leave me.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” He set the glass alongside the others, and quietly left the room. He shivered again once he had closed the door behind him, and allowed himself to pay mind to the heat suffused beneath his skin. His body was warm. The place where Lucian’s hand had been was still cold. Ignatius stared at his veins for a moment– a temptation, one he dare not admit he wished Lucian to succumb to if only for the intimacy of it all– and for that moment, thought he heard Lucian laugh from the parlor.
“This is ludicrous.”
“The opportunities are boundless, dear brother.”
“Perhaps, but it is a slight to our name. They are not purebloods.”
“Mother is only trying to do what is best. That aside, their status need hardly apply to the peace effort.” Lady Allissa raised her head, a contemplative gaze settling on Ignatius. He looked back in inquiry, and removed the cloche from their meal. “What say you, Ignatius?” she asked, and he stepped back with a tiny hum.
“I really couldn’t, my Lady.”
“You could,” she said gently, and her eyes were gleaming with barely concealed mirth. “I understand that you are human, but we have seen your tactical intelligence firsthand.”
“His place is in the war rooms,” Lucian remarked, and Ignatius warmed at the praise. “If only the strategists would have him…”
“I daresay a human leading a vampire brigade would not garner much positivity,” Ignatius said, and Luna laughed as Lucian rolled his eyes.
“Their loss.”
“Well, Ignatius?” Luna wheedled, picking up her fork. “A crown of silver for your thoughts?”
“A crown of silver,” Lucian muttered into his tea. “Sister.”
“Perchance Lady Allissa is right.” Lucian groaned, but Ignatius smiled, a wry thing, and pressed onwards. “Blood standing aside, it would be beneficial to extend your patronage to…”
“House Caede.”
“To House Caede,” he continued, “if only to smooth any hearsay of disagreement amongst your families. And approachable as though House Florence may seem, it would cause no harm to allow yourselves time in a city that is yet inhabited mostly by humans. It would reinforce the control that this family possesses, and show to the general populace that otherworldly beings can indeed be trusted.”
Lucian looked at him– they were both looking at him, master and mistress– and again Ignatius was assailed by the warmth beyond the cold of his charge’s skin and the ice beyond their gazes, the very same kind that came with the praise Lucian so carefully doled out to only his most trusted of confidants. And then the prince looked away, back to his sister, and raised an eyebrow just so.
“I will have him as my tactician yet, sister,” he said, and Ignatius hid his smile by turning away to collect the pitcher of wine.
“He is correct. You acknowledge it.”
“For Mother,” Lucian said shortly, and held the goblet out to Ignatius. “As though there were doubt.”
“You should take Ignatius.”
He very nearly spilled, shifting a hand up to the neck of the jug to steady it.
“Take my human manservant to another vampire’s kingdom.”
�
�You will be surrounded by humans,” Luna said gently, “and Ignatius is a familiar presence. I say this only for your benefit, should you not be… tempted.”
“My bloodlust has rarely been out of control.”
“A precaution, brother. Nothing more.”
“If the occasion calls for it, I would be happy to go,” Ignatius said quietly, refilling Allissa’s glass. “The opportunity to visit a new kingdom is appealing, I must admit.” Combined with the fact that neither he nor the Florences likely wanted to speak of Lucian’s thirst, he was eager to dissuade the conversation.
Lucian had always had a slight… proclivity towards drinking more than he should, when he shouldn’t. Not necessarily a desire as it was so much a need; unlike Luna, already in training for her Oracle duties, Lucian always seemed to be perched on the edge of thirst. Special consideration was occasionally taken, but Lucian was young. In comparison to Sylva, or her late husband, Lucian had plenty of time to master that part of himself.
Still, around that many humans for the extended period of time Ignatius supposed the gathering would last for, Luna was right: it might do well to have Ignatius nearby, if only to prove as a distraction. And, he’d like to think, a source of comfort.
“Do you wish to be my company, or merely to sample the exotic cuisine?” Lucian asked. His tone was emotionless, but there was the humor, so carefully tucked away and hidden to any who did not know him.
But Ignatius did. Of all people, Ignatius liked to think he knew him best of all.
Pressing his lips into a tight line to hide his own smile, he replied “I’ve heard the seafood is especially delicious in Lisbein, Highness.”
Lucian’s laughter was light, and mesmerizing, just like the idea of Lisbein’s sea life and the promise of a week away from the manor, together.
2
Chapter 2
“Indulge me, Hanstrom.”
Ignatius glanced at the hand proffered to him. Lucian was definitely speaking to him, although his gaze was directed into the crowd. A glance to follow his line of sight, to the ballroom stretched ornately out in front of them, and the couples starting to mingle about the dance floor. Ah.
“A dance between two men?” Ignatius hesitated, but only for a moment. He was well-versed in dance, and Lucian had asked. Implications aside, it was no travesty. He placed his hand in Lucian’s, the contact of cool skin broken only by their silk gloves. “Whatever will the nobles think?”
“That I have a willing chamberlain.” Lucian paused, and then hummed under his breath as he led Ignatius onto the floor. “That I have no other friendships,” he continued, with a tiny smirk. He placed his hand on Ignatius’s left shoulder blade, and Ignatius frowned.
“My Prince.”
“It’s not untrue and you are well aware.”
Perhaps, but boasting about a lack of connection with so many pricked ears and waggling tongues was hardly appropriate. Ignatius rest his hand on Lucian’s upper arm, and clasped his fingers around his hand. “I needn’t remind you of your many acquaintances, Highness.”
Lucian had enough presence to close his eyes when he looked primed to roll them instead. “But I only need you, now don’t I?” he asked, and it was with a cheeky smile that made Ignatius have to cover a laugh with a cough.
He had to focus on the dance, then. Just as well. He, dance partner aside, was among others of his own standing… humans. The rest of the Florence’s household had been blooded in their service, typical of the profession, so his time around his kind was… limited, to say the least. And to be able to take pride in not only being invited to waltz, but to waltz with his vampire host and to match him move for move, turn for turn, then that, perhaps, was part of the payout as well. He was, as ever, eager to please.
“I’m surprised you remember your dancing.”
“I don’t make it a habit to forget what I’ve been taught,” he said, and in the same way the satisfaction of the dance was awash over him, Lucian’s dry amusement at his response blossomed it further.
“Dutiful.”
“But of course, Highness.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Wherever did I learn that from?”
“I wonder.”
Lucian’s grip around his wrist tightened; Ignatius had the split second to acclimatize to the incoming change in position before he was spun away effortlessly, even managing to keep his feet beneath him. All of his dance lessons, practiced again and again with various partners– with Lucian himself– and Ignatius grinned for a split second before schooling his expression. They were in public, not in the privacy of their own dance halls.
Lucian’s hand did not leave his wrist, and then he was pulling him back. Buoying him back to his side with a tiny bit too much momentum; Ignatius’s back bumped his chest and he remembered to lift his chin and straighten his arms, fingers tangling with Lucian’s again. He wondered, again, however he had been so blessed to become a part of the Florence household. To find a friend in Lucian, as it were.
The dance ended. The floor was crowded, and the lights were hot; the sweat prickling his back was uncomfortably mirrored by his accelerated breathing– made ever more obvious by the feel of Lucian’s breathing against the top of his earlobe. Heightened, slightly ragged. Nearby his throat.
Ignatius swallowed a tiny spark of panic, and removed his hand from Lucian’s. “Your Highness.” Then, a little more firmly, a little lower, “Lucian.” He barely dared to speak, nevermind move. “A break, perhaps.”
“No…” Lucian stepped back. “I am… fine.” The words sounded physically pained. They did not inspire confidence.
“A break,” he repeated, turning to face him. “They will not begrudge your disappearance for that long, I am certain.”
“I–” Lucian pursed his lips, and then strode past Ignatius towards the entrance.
Well. He should have known the Six would not be content to allow them an easy holiday. Ignatius lingered for a moment, only long enough to catch his breath and try to still the fear that had curled into his gut– the latter would do no good for Lucian, nor any vampire here. More than anything, fear was an addiction on its own, and Ignatius wanted to do nothing to tempt their prince further.
But he still hurried after him, folding his hands behind his back and affecting an air of calm. Anyone inhuman would see past it, but for the sake of appearance…
“Highness.” He fell into step next to Lucian. It was a struggle to keep up when he was still out of breath from the dance. “Where are we going?” he tried, when he was given no greeting. Still nothing, save the uneasy, dangerous silence from his right, and Ignatius fell quiet as well as he continued to dutifully follow him throughout the mansion.
He had never been to Caede Manor. It was very dark, although not oppressive. Technically speaking, it was as though a vampire’s dwelling would be imagined to be, draped in blacks and blues so rich it made his eyes ache to stare for too long. It reminded him of the pictures he had seen of Lucis, of the city of Insomnia, from his studies. He wondered how they compared. He found he cared little, however, compared to the splendors of home. Four days of this, and he was ready to return.
He followed Lucian into an empty room, casting a glance into the hallway before pulling the door behind them. Billiards, by the look of it, and Lucian’s eyes glinting in the darkness. His irritation was palpable.
Ignatius, turning to the fire, would let him pace off the restless energy. Time away from the crowds, as it were.
“Leave it,” Lucian snapped.
“You can see in the dark, Highness, I cannot.” No further protest came, and so Ignatius folded himself down to his knees next to the grate to tend it.
“Four days.” The silence was eventually broken, an irritated– defeated– Lucian slumping onto the sofa. He rest his arm along the back of it and glared off towards the windows. The curtains weren’t drawn, but what lay beyond them, Ignatius couldn’t guess. “What vampire cannot handle the press of humanity
for four days?”
Ignatius stood steadily beside the settee, hands clasped behind his back. He had the inkling of an idea, one he truly did not need an answer to. It was best not to focus on, however… “A young one?” he questioned, and quirked a tiny smile when Lucian glared at him.
“I am hundreds of years older than you, Hanstrom, lest you forget.”
“I haven’t.” It was easy to, physically, as Lucian was. Height and fluidity, dissimilar eyes and mercurial hair. As pale as death, and not looking a day over twenty-eight. “However, in comparison to others, even in comparison to the youngest Caede…”
“There is blood here,” Lucian interrupted, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.
Ignatius tracked the movement, and then continued softly. The words felt heavy on his tongue, but he was determined to say them just so. “You need fresh blood, Lucian.”
“A slim chance of finding such a thing,” Lucian said. “Or seeming weak for accessing it, should they wish to provide. I refuse.”
Pride is not a virtue. The words were on the tip of his tongue. He swallowed them away and instead pushed forward. “If you’ll allow it, Highness.” He leaned down, fingers slipping to the concealed blade sheathed within his boot. Given to him by Lucian nights ago during the wardrobe fitting– “you are still a human amongst vampires, I will not risk my familiars in such a way” – and now Ignatius straightened with it, settling it loosely between his fingers. “I am here for your needs.”
Lucian looked at him as though he had grown a pair of fangs himself, and Ignatius kept the smile on his face pleasant even if he was not able to hide the prickle of fear, growing beneath his skin.
No, he was not afraid of his charge. Not in such a way that normal humans were, that any human was were they not accustomed to vampire lifestyle. Lucian was… very dear to him. Perhaps, even, in ways he dare not admit, but he had never been brought to the Florences with the intention of giving blood or being blooded. He had never been bitten, and never had need to offer.