With a sigh, she put the book aside. She couldn’t concentrate on the words, couldn’t think of anything but Drake, locked up in a high tower room. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in pain, that he needed her. How long would Rodin keep his son locked up? She pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp as a new thought pushed its way into her mind. There was a hole in the tower roof. Surely Rodin wouldn’t leave Drake up there during the day, helpless to avoid the sun’s light.
Worried for Drake’s welfare, she lost track of time.
She looked up when a woman entered the room. She wasn’t a vampire, but a female version of the men who had guarded the dining room. Elena watched nervously as the woman gazed around the room, then strode purposefully toward her.
“You,” the woman said sharply. “Come with me.”
When Elena didn’t comply immediately, the woman grasped her roughly by the arm and yanked her to her feet.
Elena followed the woman down the corridor and into a small room.
“Undress,” the woman ordered. Reaching into a cupboard, she withdrew a long gray dress. “Put that on.” She dropped a pair of black shoes on top of the dress. “Quickly now.”
When it became evident the woman wasn’t going to give her any privacy, Elena turned her back on her and quickly changed into the gray dress, and as she did so, she was overcome with the feeling that she had just lost her individuality.
Moments later, she was back in the recreation room, indistinguishable from the rest of the sheep.
Drake pressed back against the wall of his prison. It kept him out of the sun’s direct light, but he couldn’t escape the scorching heat. It enveloped him like an invisible shroud, burning through his clothing to the flesh beneath, adding to the pain of the heavy silver leg iron that shackled his ankle to the wall. But for the chains that bound him he could have dissolved into mist and escaped.
He groaned deep in his throat. He could feel his flesh blistering inside and out. Not wanting Elena to see him like this, or to suffer the heat of the day with him, he had called Liliana to take Elena away last night, after she had fallen asleep.
Elena. Where was she now? Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate on her whereabouts, but the intense pain clouded his mind, making coherent thought impossible.
He spent several minutes uselessly cursing his sire, then lapsed into silence. He had known Rodin would be angry, but he had never expected anything like this.
The pain intensified his thirst. He felt his fangs run out in response. As the hours passed, pain turned into agony. He felt his body shrinking in on itself, felt his veins constricting. The weight of his clothing became agonizing against his tender flesh.
A hoarse cry tore at his throat as a ray of sun found him and he scuttled to the other side of the tower, his arms covering his head in an effort to escape the withering heat.
Cringing in pain, he summoned Elena’s image. Beautiful Elena, with hair like fine black silk and skin as soft as down. Elena, who cared for him in spite of what he was . . . or had her affection turned to hate now that she knew the truth about him, about his people?
“Elena.” He forced her name through cracked, dry lips.
If he begged, would Rodin let him see her one last time?
The day dragged on. Elena took up the book again, pretending to read. She was aware of the curious gazes of the other women, but they seemed to sense she wished to be left alone, or maybe they were simply leery of a stranger in their midst.
Just when she thought the day would never end, the door opened and Liliana stepped into the room. Without a word, all of the women rose and filed toward the doorway. Elena hung back so that she was the last in line. When she reached Liliana, she stopped.
“Where is Drake?” Elena asked anxiously. “I want to see him.”
“I am sorry. That is not possible just now. Please, go to last meal with the others.”
“I want to see my husband,” Elena said, stressing the last word.
A humorless smile played over the vampire’s lips. “You will see him at Rodin’s pleasure and not before.”
“Why not now? Please, I must see him.”
“If you wish to see Drake again, you will do as you are told.” Without waiting for an answer, the vampire left the room.
Fighting back tears, Elena went into the dining hall and took a seat. Several human girls served the meal. Tonight, a pair of male vampires patrolled the aisles dividing the men from the women.
Elena forced herself to eat, afraid that refusing would keep her from seeing Drake.
The meal was almost over when the door opened and a dozen or so vampires—both male and female—entered the room. Elena stared at them. They were all beautiful. Male or female, they moved from table to table with a languid grace no human could ever match. Most of the men wore black, but not the women. Clad in brightly colored clothing or lounging outfits, they looked like a flock of exotic birds.
One by one, the vampires called out a name, and the man or woman called left his or her seat and followed the vampire out the door.
“Elena Knightsbridge.”
It took her a moment to realize her name had been called. There had to be a mistake, she thought frantically. She wasn’t one of the sheep! She was Drake’s wife.
“Elena Knightsbridge, come to me.”
To her horror, she found herself rising as if she had no mind of her own, moving toward the vampire who had summoned her. He resembled Drake in that he was tall and had long black hair and blue eyes. But that was where the resemblance ended. There was a cruel twist to this man’s mouth, a coldness in his pale blue eyes.
“Poor thing,” one of the women murmured as Elena passed by. “To get Vardin her first time.”
Elena shivered when he looked at her. There was nothing of warmth when he smiled at her, no gentleness in his grip when his hand closed over her arm. This was a man who enjoyed inflicting pain, she had no doubt of it.
She couldn’t stop shaking as he led her down three flights of stairs, then shoved her into a room that looked as though it had been decorated for a king—from the overly large bed draped with cloth-of-gold to the striped silk that covered the walls. An overstuffed chair covered in red velvet, a desk, and a large, beautifully carved wardrobe were spaced around the room. Aubusson carpets covered the floor; hanging candelabras provided illumination.
“Please,” he said with exaggerated politeness. “Sit down.” It was a demand, not an invitation.
She perched on the edge of the chair, her hands clenched in her lap. A sense of doom settled over her when the door closed, seemingly of its own accord.
The vampire came toward her like a hungry cat stalking its prey. He stood over her, his eyes going red, his fangs gleaming as he lowered his head to her neck.
Panic swept over her as his hand closed over her shoulder. She wanted to fight him, wanted to scream for him to leave her alone, but sheer terror at what he might do if she opposed him held her frozen in place.
“No.” The word escaped her lips. “Please. There’s been a mistake. I’m not one of. . . of the sheep.”
But he didn’t listen.
Didn’t stop.
Didn’t care.
There was no pleasure in his bite as he bent her back over his arm, only an excruciating pain that sizzled down the length of her neck like the sharp bite of a serpent, and then burned its way through every nerve and cell in her body.
She screamed with the pain of it as her body began to tremble uncontrollably. When he bit her again, the world spun out of focus. She was falling, slipping helplessly into a black abyss that felt like death. Sobbing, she whispered a single word.
“Drake.”
He came awake with a start, the echo of Elena’s terrified cry ringing in his ears. Ignoring the pain that burned through him with every breath, he pulled against the chain that shackled him to the wall. He struggled to free himself even though he knew it was useless. His preternatural strength had been leeche
d away by the silver that bound him, by the relentless sunlight that had scorched his flesh.
His whole body throbbed in agony. Blood oozed from where the silver had rubbed his skin raw. Sweat stung his eyes. His tortured body screamed for nourishment to relieve the pain and the thirst.
“Elena.” Her name whispered past dry, cracked lips. “Elena, forgive me.”
Chapter 15
Elena couldn’t sleep that night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the vampire’s hellish gaze, felt his fangs savaging her throat again and again. She huddled under the covers, shoulders shaking, eyes burning with tears. Where was Drake? Why wouldn’t they let her see him? She needed him, needed him desperately. She was lost and alone in a nightmare from which there was no escape.
Gradually, exhaustion claimed her and she fell into a restless sleep, only to wake some time later, a scream on her lips.
“Hush, now, you’ll be all right.”
Elena opened her eyes. In the dim light, she saw one of the women kneeling beside her bed. “S-sorry,” Elena said, sniffing back her tears.
“No need to apologize. We all have nightmares now and then. I am Northa.”
“Elena.”
“What are you doing here? You are not one of us.”
Elena hesitated a moment, wondering if she should tell the truth, and then shrugged. “Drake is my husband.”
Northa’s eyes grew wide with astonishment. “You married Rodin’s eldest son?”
At this announcement, someone lit a nearby candle and several other women clustered around Elena’s cot, their expressions filled with curiosity.
Elena nodded.
“It is said that of all Rodin’s sons, Drake is his favorite.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Elena said, remembering how angry Rodin had been.
“We only know what little we hear,” Marta said. “It is rumored among us that Drake left the Fortress over three hundred years ago and in all that time, he has never come back.”
A girl with straight brown hair and gray eyes nodded. “Cullin told me that his brother has never been one of them, that he never approved of his father keeping us here against our will.” She made a vague gesture with one hand. “I don’t understand what he means, against our will. If we didn’t stay here, where would we go?”
“There’s a whole world out there,” Elena said. “You could have a place of your own, get married, have children.”
“Some of us will be allowed to mate and have children,” Northa said.
“And those children will be food for the vampires!” Elena exclaimed.
Northa shrugged. “It is how it has always been.”
“But you’re prisoners!” Elena looked at the women gathered around her. “Don’t you want to be free?”
“What is free?” Marta asked.
“I’m free,” Elena said. “I chose to marry Drake. We have a house of our own. No one tells us what to do or when to do it. We can come and go as we please.”
A girl with short black hair snorted with disdain. “You look like us,” she said, tugging on the sleeve of Elena’s nightgown, which was like the gowns all the other women wore. “You feed the vampires. How are you any different?”
“I don’t belong here.”
“But here you are,” the dark-haired girl said with an air of finality. “And once you are here, you can never leave.”
Those words, and the finality with which the dark-haired girl had spoken them, haunted Elena in the recreation room the next day. It might be true for the sheep, that there was no escape, but it couldn’t be true for her. She didn’t belong here. Would never belong here. She refused to believe she would never leave this horrible place. She had to cling to the hope that she would soon be with Drake again, that they could return to Wolfram Castle, because hope was all she had.
Now and then, one or another of the women would ask her what it was like outside the Fortress. What did the outside world look like? Had she ever seen a tree? A flower? Felt the sun on her face? The sheep knew about these things. They read books, saw movies and pictures, but they had never touched a living tree, smelled a flower, walked barefoot in the grass.
When she found herself drowning in despair, she clung to Liliana’s promise that she would see Drake again. She prayed it would be soon.
The day dragged on. She tried to read but couldn’t concentrate on the words. More than anything, she wanted to go outside, to feel the sun on her face, to go for a walk. To spend some time alone. How did the women stand it, always being together, never having any privacy, never having a few minutes to themselves? She wondered why the vampires refused to let their captives go outside. Didn’t they trust the guards to protect them? Or were the vampires afraid the guards would run away if given the chance?
After what seemed like forever, it was time for last meal. She was trembling when she entered the dining hall. Too nervous to eat, she kept glancing at the door, praying that Vardin would not call for her again.
When he appeared in the doorway, she could scarcely breathe. More frightened than she would have believed possible, she kept her head down, hoping he wouldn’t see her. Her heart pounded so loudly she could hardly hear anything else.
But she heard his voice echoing loudly in her mind, felt herself rising, moving toward him on legs that trembled, following him down the stairs and into his apartment.
And then the door was closing and Vardin was standing over her, his eyes glowing a bright, hellish red, his fangs gleaming in the candlelight.
Elena came awake to the sound of someone calling her name. For a moment, she imagined it was Vardin leaning over her, lightly shaking her shoulder. She swallowed the scream rising in her throat when she opened her eyes and saw Rodin standing beside her bed.
“Get up,” he said sternly.
“Where’s Drake? Is he all right? I want to see him. I need to see him. Please, I’ll do anything, just let me see him.”
“Then do as I say.”
Rising, her heart filled with trepidation, she followed Rodin out of the dormitory and up the stairs to the tower room.
Outside the door, a candle in a wall sconce came to life, seemingly of its own accord. Rodin plucked the taper from the holder, then opened the tower door and stepped inside.
Elena followed him, a soft cry of denial falling from her lips when she saw Drake curled up against the far wall.
Murmuring his name, she ran to kneel beside him. “Drake? Oh, Drake.”
“Go away.”
“No. What have they done to you?” His hands were swollen and blistered.
“Elena,” he said hoarsely, “get out of here. I do not want you to remember me like this.”
“I’m not leaving.” She glanced over her shoulder. “How could you do this to him? What kind of monster are you?”
“He is my son,” Rodin replied coldly. “He has violated our laws. The usual punishment is death. But I have decided to be lenient, for his mother’s sake.”
“Lenient!” She screamed the word at him. “You call this lenient?” Tears filled her eyes when she looked at Drake again. Gently, she stroked his hair.
He flinched at her touch and she realized his scalp was also burned.
She looked up at Rodin again. “Do something. He’s suffering.”
Rodin nodded. “It would not be punishment if he were not.”
“I want to be alone with him.”
“I will allow you five minutes.”
“How very generous of you.” It took all the willpower she possessed to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
Rodin inclined his head. He placed the candle in a crack in the floor, then left the tower, closing the door behind him.
“Drake, you need blood,” Elena said urgently. “Hurry, we only have a few minutes. Take mine.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Go away.”
“Stop being so stubborn. We don’t have time to argue.”
Raising his head, he looked at her, only th
en noticing that she wore the same plain white nightgown the sheep wore. “Why do you not hate me for bringing you here?”
“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know this would happen.”
“I promised he would treat you well.” His nostrils flared. “Vardin.” The name hissed past his lips. “I will kill him for this.”
“I’m fine.” She forced the lie past her lips. “Please, my husband, take what you need.”
He shook his head. “I dare not,” he said. “If I begin”—he shook his head again—“I am afraid I would not be able to stop.”
“Please, Drake,” she begged softly. “I can’t bear to see you suffering like this.”
“It will pass, in time.”
She stared at him. His beautiful face was blistered almost beyond recognition. She yearned to take him in her arms, to hold him close and comfort him, but touching him would only cause him more pain.
Leaning forward, she kissed him ever so lightly. “I love you.”
“Foolish girl.”
“Tell me,” she begged. “Tell me you love me, even if it’s a lie. Tell me we’ll be together again soon and that nothing will ever part us.”
He cupped her cheek in his hand. “I love you,” he said fervently. “Whatever the future holds, never doubt that I will always love you.”
“And we’ll be together again, promise me.”
“We will be together again, wife,” he said, brushing the tears from her cheeks. “I swear it.”
She forced a smile. She knew he was lying, but for now, it was all she had.
“Rodin is coming,” Drake said.
Leaning forward, he kissed her again, an achingly tender brush of his scorched lips across hers. A fleeting caress that she knew meant good-bye.
And then Rodin was there, dragging her to her feet, leading her away.
Chapter 16
Bound by Night Page 12