Unleash (Vampire Erotic Theatre Romance Series Book 6)

by Felicity Heaton

  He wasn’t big enough to cover a full bite. His mother had tried once when he had fallen from a tree and he had spilled her blood everywhere.

  He swallowed a mouthful and his pain began to ebb, his body swift to ingest the blood and use it to kick start the process of healing his broken bones. The darkness faded with it, the dizziness passing. He took another mouthful from his mother and then she drew her arm away and licked the cut, sealing it. Snow licked his lips.

  His father called from the distance, drawing closer, and Snow willed his body to heal faster so his father wouldn’t see him as weak. Papa prided himself on the strength of their bloodline and their breeding. Snow wanted his father to be proud of him too.

  His mother gathered her furs around them both and rocked him gently in her arms. She leaned over him and pressed soft kisses to his brow, and Snow closed his eyes, savouring the feel of her embrace and feeling safe and warm, loved. He loved his Mama more than anything. He would love her forever, and would make sure nothing bad ever happened to her.

  “What was your friend’s name?” she whispered between kisses.

  Snow’s brow crinkled. The little girl hadn’t said what it was. He would give her a name.

  “Aurora.”

  Something stroked his brow and Snow frowned as that gentle touch drew him out of his dream long enough that he hazily saw the angel above him. She sung and he drifted back to sleep, finding himself lying in a bed with his mother beside him, his body swathed in bandages.

  “Try to rest, Snow.” Mama stroked his forehead, her caress soothing him. He had been stuck in bed for weeks already, his body slow to heal the broken bones, even when he frequently took blood from his mother.

  The world shifted and he was sitting beside the fire outside the castle, staring beyond it to the snowy mountains and the stars hanging above them in the velvet darkness. His cousins muttered about him behind his back, complaining that he was no longer any fun. He ached to play with them but he couldn’t.

  Every time he came close to giving in to the urge, he thought of the angel, Aurora, and remembered that if he was bad, she would grow more black feathers and the man would be angry with her again. He wanted to stay out of trouble for her.

  He would never do anything that would result in her gaining another black feather.

  He would protect both her and his Mama.

  CHAPTER 9

  She refused to judge Snow as guilty immediately in order to save herself, earning the anger of her master, and instead returned to the vampire. Somehow, she would redeem him, because the thought of sentencing him to death hurt her.

  How many times had she wished he no longer existed and now she couldn’t bring herself to give him the death that he eagerly sought?

  When she had returned to her home that night two thousand years ago, she had cried until she had convinced herself that her master was not cruel enough to inflict upon her the punishment he had detailed.

  For one hundred years, her life had gone on as it had before she had saved Snow from the lake and death, granting him a second chance, and she had grown sure that she had been right and her master had only threatened to punish her in order to scare her into never straying from his orders again.

  And then Snow had committed a sin and she had gained another black feather.

  She had cried again that night, scared and alone, afraid of what her future would hold.

  She had realised that Snow had forgotten her, and that had only made her cry harder because she couldn’t forget him and her master had stipulated that she couldn’t reveal herself to him to remind him of what would happen to her should he sin.

  All she could do was follow him, hidden from the world, watching him. She had grown to hate him because he had sinned without remorse and she had suffered greatly each time, punished for his actions.

  She had even suffered in the four centuries he had served in an army of his kind and had spent many years gone from this world, ventured into Hell, a place where her vision couldn't see him. She had grown more black feathers in those years than she had in all the others combined and had only been able to wonder what sins Snow had committed to cause them.

  Whenever he had returned to this world, appearing in her vision again, he had changed by degrees. She had seen it in him when he had spent time with a baby Antoine. A cold, bleak aura had begun to surround him, and then she had witnessed the beginnings of his bloodlust. Whatever he had done in those years in Hell, it had affected him deeply.

  The more black feathers she grew, the more the other angels had viewed her as tainted. She had become despised amongst her own kind, an outcast because of the vampire. Only her master had dared to take her under his wing and teach her how to do her duties, and she still didn’t believe he had done it out of kindness. He had cursed her to bear all of Snow’s sins after all.

  He had bound her to Snow and only he could set her free.

  No. She could set herself free. Her master had given her a way out. If she judged Snow as guilty and a danger to the world, and condemned him to death, she would have her freedom.

  Tears lined her eyes because she knew in her heart that she would never be able to do such a thing to him, not without good reason.

  She would never be able to save herself.

  Her master had told her two thousand years ago to watch Snow die and she hadn’t been able to follow his command.

  She had thought him beautiful when she had seen him running through the snow chasing the owl. She had never witnessed a boy so excited and full of life, joy and curiosity.

  His white hair, pale eyes, and the thick furs he wore had made him look as though the frigid land had birthed a child so linked to it that they resembled each other. She had reacted on instinct when he had fallen through the ice and plunged into the lake.

  She hadn’t seen something evil that the world would be better off without.

  She had only seen a child like herself about to die.

  A beautiful boy that she had wanted to live.

  She looked upon him now as he slumbered under the black covers of his grim steel bed, his ankles and wrists restrained, and his handsome face twitching as he dreamed.

  When he had killed his family, her master had made her watch it all unfold, forcing her to see that she had unleashed a monster upon the world the night she had saved him as a boy.

  She had never believed him capable of such evil and it had shocked her to see him butchering those he adored, but she still hadn’t been able to bring herself to admit that he deserved to die.

  He had been an innocent two thousand years ago and he still was.

  It wasn’t Snow who committed atrocious acts. It was the terrible affliction he had been born with.

  She had seen him suffer in the aftermath of every incident, loathing himself, and even begging Antoine to kill him. Antoine had seen the good in Snow too and had refused to give up on him, and that had given her the strength to do the same.

  There was still a part of her that hated him though, both for everything he had done and the fact that he had forgotten her.

  When he had recovered from his latest bout of bloodlust and she had revealed herself to him, she had expected him to remember her. He hadn’t. It had bitterly disappointed her.

  Now, in order to save her soul, she had to judge his. She refused to say outright that he was beyond salvation. She would do her best to view him and his actions independently of her feelings, with open eyes and an unclouded heart.

  Snow’s breathing turned heavy and he muttered in his sleep, tossing his head side to side, his hands and legs twitching, rattling the inch-thick chains.

  She gazed upon him, seeing a powerful male stripped of his strength by a debilitating curse.

  Whenever she saw him like this, falling into his bloodlust, she ached for him and had done for centuries. She felt responsible for everything he had suffered. If she hadn’t intervened that night, he never would have fallen victim of his affliction.

  Bu
t he never would have lived either.

  He had been so young, just like her.

  He bucked and snarled, his immense body bowing off the four-poster bed and pulling the chains tight.

  A nightmare haunted him. It would send him back down into the darkness if she didn’t intervene.

  She crossed the room, clambered onto the black covers on the bed and curled up next to him with her knees against his side and his right arm beneath her ribs. She gazed down at him and touched his cheek. What did he dream? She wished she could see them. She would know how to ease his suffering if she could and perhaps it would help her judge him.

  He growled, baring his fangs, and the muscles in his jaw popped. She stroked the backs of her knuckles across his cheek and he snapped his teeth at her. It didn’t stop her this time.

  She withdrew her hand only enough that he couldn’t reach it, waited for him to return to fighting his bonds, and then caressed his cheek again. It was cool and surprisingly soft now that his stubble was gone.

  His face twisted in a grimace. Not a grimace, she realised as a tear slipped from the corner of his eyes and his pain echoed into her through the point where they touched. Fathomless pain. Did he dream of his family and that dreadful night?

  Her eyebrows furrowed, sorrow filling her heart and making it ache for him. He had suffered enough in life. Did he have to suffer in his dreams too? She wished he could dream beautiful things, not such horror, but she knew that it haunted him, a torture he felt he had to endure in exchange for his sins.

  If she could have gone to him that night, she would have.

  Not so she could spare herself the weight of his sins, but so she could have spared him this eternal torment and suffering.

  She wrapped her arms around his head so the back of it rested upon her left forearm, his soft white hair caressing her skin, and held him, trying not to squash his arm beneath her, hoping to give him some comfort amidst his pain. Her body tingled where his touched it, aware of him and how close to each other they were.

  Snow stirred, sleepy and dazed, tears in his soulful blue eyes.

  She hushed him when he frowned and looked as though he might protest about what she was doing.

  “Go back to sleep,” she whispered and his eyes slipped shut again.

  She softly sung to him as she stroked his silver-white hair, hoping the sound of the melody would bring him good dreams, and looked down at his peaceful handsome face. She had never held a man like this before. It moved her. Stirred her. She felt dangerously attracted to him, hyper-aware of his powerful body and masculine scent.

  She felt curious about things.

  Her eyes drifted down to his profanely sensual mouth.

  How would his lips feel against hers?

  Soft. Hard. Rough. Warm. Cool?

  It was difficult to resist finding out the answer.

  She focused on singing to him, monitoring his emotions at the same time, her hand moving in a constant motion against his snowy hair.

  He had grown into a beautiful male. Many women had known his lips and his touch. She had hated them all. None of them had been good women. None of them had deserved the affection he had bestowed upon them during their time together.

  They had all led Snow to sin in some way, whether it was convincing him to join a war he didn’t truly believe in or kill another male for their sake. They had all used his immense power and his standing within vampire society as a means of getting something they wanted and had used his heart to make him do as they bid.

  He hadn’t been with a woman in a very long time.

  She was the only female to lie in his bed in many centuries. The first female to be this close to him since his bloodlust had emerged.

  It thrilled her.

  It shouldn’t, but it did.

  She watched him sleeping, losing track of time as he peacefully slumbered, his breathing steady and heart beating at a relaxed rhythm. She liked that she could steal his pain away and give him peace. It gave her hope that he could redeem himself and was worthy of saving.

  He stirred again, his eyelids slowly lifting to reveal pale blue eyes that had intrigued her the night they had met. A frown creased his brow and he tilted his head back to stare up at her.

  He stared at her in silence for so long that she began to feel self-conscious and was about to ask what was wrong when he spoke.

  “Aurora?”

  That word again. She frowned now.

  His eyes softened and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You could not speak then… I never knew your name.”

  A hot shiver spread outwards from her heart and through her limbs, lightening her insides. He remembered her.

  “I couldn’t speak because it was a punishment for being late to my classes and speaking back to my master.” She took her hand away from his hair and settled it on his chest, feeling his heart pumping against his ribs.

  He smiled at her. “We met under the most beautiful aurora borealis I had ever seen. When my… I decided to give you a name. Aurora.”

  Aurora.

  Whenever he said that word in his sleep, he was dreaming of the night they had met? He was calling out for her?

  He had called out that word over three weeks ago too, on the stage of Vampirerotique when the bloodlust and his memories had conspired to drive him out of his mind. He had shouted for her and asked her to take him home with her.

  He had said she was prettier than the heavens.

  A fierce blush crept onto her cheeks.

  “What is it?” Snow whispered and moved his left arm as though he wanted to touch her cheeks. The cuff stopped him, the chain tightening and jerking his hand back. The curiosity and concern in his pale eyes faded, replaced by regret that she could sense in him. “I feel terrible that I forgot you… I am sorry.”

  He looked at her wings and the guilt she could feel in him worsened, and then he closed his eyes, as though he couldn’t bear to see all of the black feathers now that he knew he had caused them.

  “Everything you must have suffered,” he said in a low pained voice. “It is all my fault.”

  She shook her head and he opened his eyes and looked up at her again, remorse still colouring his expression.

  “You couldn’t help it.” She believed that. He had been led astray many times in his life, following his heart, and then his bloodlust had awoken and had made him do other terrible things.

  “What is your real name?” Snow’s pale grey eyebrows knitted together and she was glad when some of the pain in his eyes lifted, curiosity beginning to fill them again.

  “Angels do not have names.”

  “That is sad, in a way.”

  It was just the way things were. Her kind didn’t have names. His kind didn’t have wings. This was the way of it.

  “I have never thought about it before now… but perhaps I could have a name.” It was a dangerous thought to entertain. She liked the idea of having a name. There were so many of them in this world that the possibilities were endless. Everyone at the theatre had a different one and many of them suited the person. Such as Snow.

  What name would she have if she could?

  She looked back down at Snow, into his ice-blue eyes, and tilted her head until it was at the same angle as his and she was looking at him straight on. “Could I have the name you gave to me?”

  He smiled. “I would like that, Aurora.”

  She smiled too, enjoying the lyrical way that word sounded whenever he said it and hearing her name for the first time.

  Would she get into trouble for having a name? It would make her stand out from the other angels, an individual amongst a collective. Would her master punish her for desiring such a thing?

  She found she didn’t care.

  She was Aurora now.

  CHAPTER 10

  Aurora paced her quarters in her master’s home, her gaze turned inwards, giving her the ability to watch over Snow. He interacted with the others at Vampirerotique, moving around the the
atre, dressed as handsomely as he had been at the celebration.

  It had been two days since she had last visited him and she was beginning to find it impossible to ignore her desire to return to him. She needed to maintain her distance though. Whenever she was around him, she found herself entertaining thoughts that shocked her.

  Such as kissing him.

  She still longed to know the feel of his lips and his taste. Her master would punish her if he knew she had imagined kissing Snow many times over the past two nights while she had been watching him.

  Snow had shown no sign of his bloodlust emerging.

  He conversed with his fellow vampires, entertained the twins, and had even made a rather heartfelt apology to Payne and his female witch, Elissa. It had touched Aurora and strengthened her belief that Snow was capable of turning his life around, saving himself from death, if his terrible affliction would only leave him in peace.

  The young incubus boy she knew as Luca had interrupted them in the end, demanding that Snow play with him as he did with the babes. Snow had spent almost an hour amusing the boy, kneeling on the wooden floor of Payne’s grey room and playing with a toy train set.

  That still made her smile and warmed her heart.

  If only her master could see him as she did, she was sure he would change his mind about Snow and her mission to judge him. Snow had committed terrible acts but he also did good. Somewhere deep within him was the youth he had once been, before the world had conspired against him to turn him evil.

  Antoine entered Snow’s black room and settled himself on the edge of the double bed while Snow poured him a glass of blood. This was progress she hadn’t expected. Snow had always avoided blood in an open container such as a glass if he wasn’t restrained. Did he feel confident enough about his control over his bloodlust now to drink from a glass when unfettered?

  She smiled at that.

  The sound of a door opening below her drew her attention away from Snow for a second. Her master was home. She wanted to make him watch Snow and force him to see the other side of the vampire he believed was pure evil and incapable of good. Her master would refuse though. He always had. As far as he was concerned, Snow deserved to die.