Rising, she went into the bathroom and washed her hands and face while she considered her options.
Whether Drake approved or not, she had little choice but to return to Wolfram Castle when and if she left here. She had nowhere else to go. Maybe she could demand that Rodin provide her with enough money to live on until she could find a job. After all, it was his fault she was now a divorced woman with no visible means of support.
She paused as she dried her hands. Did she really want to go back to the castle when Jenica was buried in the garden? What was she going to do about Jenica? Drake had promised to find her cousin’s murderer, but that wasn’t going to happen now. And what about her uncle? She would be helpless without Drake to protect her.
Going to the window, she pulled back the curtain and stared outside, a gasp rising in her throat. The view in daylight was spectacular. The Fortress, situated on a mountain peak, overlooked a deep green valley bisected by a narrow ribbon of blue water. Several small cottages dotted the valley floor. How sad for the men and women who were kept here to live in view of such a beautiful place and never be able to see it, never be allowed to go outside to enjoy it.
Turning away from the window, she removed her nightgown, then went to the small wardrobe beside the bed. Opening the double doors, she found a simple green cotton dress with a round neck, long sleeves, and a bell-shaped skirt hanging beside her lavender silk. There was also a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved pink sweater.
Dress or pants? Pants or dress? Deciding the jeans made her feel less vulnerable, she quickly pulled them on and slid the sweater over her head. Liliana had also thoughtfully provided a pair of white sandals. Like the jeans and sweater, they fit perfectly.
Summoning her courage, Elena unlocked the door and stepped into the corridor. A man—a very big man with massive shoulders—stood beside her door. He didn’t speak, didn’t smile, just stood there like a statue, his gray eyes curiously empty. Was he the drone Liliana had mentioned?
Elena hesitated, then turned and started walking down the hall. Liliana had said she could roam at will. Being curious about the Fortress, she intended to do just that.
She hadn’t gone far when she realized the Hulk was following her. To protect her? Or to keep her from stumbling into something she shouldn’t?
No matter, she thought, she was going exploring.
The room to the right of hers was a library, larger than any she had ever seen before. Floor-to-ceiling shelves, each filled with books, lined every wall. Several sofas and comfortable-looking chairs occupied the center of the room, along with several low tables. She wandered from shelf to shelf, perusing the titles, noting that there were books in a multitude of languages. She took one from the shelf and thumbed through it. It was in a language she didn’t recognize, but thought might be Russian. The pages were edged in gold leaf; the drawings that accompanied the words were breathtaking.
After carefully returning the volume to the shelf, she left the library.
There were two rooms across the hall. The first held numerous works of art. Some were framed and mounted on the walls; other canvases were on easels. Glass shelves held figurines and statues made of blown glass, pewter, onyx, and marble. Picking up a statue of an old woman carved from wood, Elena ran her hand over the smooth oak, marveling at the intricate detail even as she wondered whether the works of art had been created by the vampires.
The next door opened onto a music room. She stood there a moment, her gaze moving from the piano in the far corner to the harp, violins, cellos, flutes, triangles, and drums scattered around the room. Several music stands held pages of sheet music. Did vampires dance? And sing? And play musical instruments?
The room at the far end of the corridor was the Council chamber. There were no pleasant memories in that room and she didn’t go inside.
The man continued to follow her as she went in search of the dining room, which she knew was somewhere downstairs. She didn’t know if she was too early or too late, but she had the place all to herself. Going into the kitchen, she helped herself to a scone from a covered tray and washed it down with a cup of lukewarm tea. Plucking another scone from the tray, she nibbled on it as she left the dining room.
Behind the next door, she found a laundry room furnished with several washers and dryers, as well as a sink and a long counter. A quick glance, and she moved on.
Remembering that there were no windows in the lower levels, she plucked a fat candle from a wall sconce to light her way before descending the stairs to the dormitories and the day rooms. A lantern hanging from the ceiling provided faint illumination on this floor. She frowned, wondering who the light was for. The drones, perhaps?
The doors were all locked from the outside, of course, but she could hear voices coming from the rec room. She stood there a moment, listening to the muted voices of the women, the occasional laughter. She felt a brief rush of loneliness. The sheep might not be free, but they seemed happy in their captivity, while she had nothing, and no one.
The next floor down was pitch black and eerily silent. She knew immediately that this floor housed the vampires. Was Drake down here? Would she feel his presence if he was nearby? She tiptoed down the long hallway, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. She paused at each door but heard nothing. Did Rodin and Liliana live down here with the others, or did they have quarters elsewhere?
At the end of the hallway, she found a narrow wooden door. When she tried to open it, the drone caught her hand. When she looked up at him, he shook his head.
“Dungeon,” he said, his voice flat. “You should not go there.”
“Liliana said I could go wherever I wished.”
The drone looked confused for a moment, as if no one had ever dared defy him before, and then it occurred to her that she was probably the first to do so. Surely the sheep would not disagree with any order given them. When she didn’t back away, he shrugged and allowed her to pass.
Elena opened the door, and then hesitated at the top of the stairs. Did she really want to go down there alone? But then, she wasn’t alone. The Hulk was right behind her. Still, it seemed the height of foolishness. Who knew what she might find down there? Visions of skeletons and dead rats flashed through her mind. Maybe the drone was right.
With a shake of her head, she was about to close the door when she heard Drake’s voice in her mind, as clearly as if he was standing beside her. She peered into the darkness at the foot of the stairs. Was Drake down there?
Chewing on her lower lip, she started down the stairs. The musty scent of rot and decay rose up to meet her. She paused midway down the staircase, one hand on the rail, listening, but all she heard was the sound of the Hulk’s breathing coming from behind her.
She had come this far, she thought, might as well see it through. She moved cautiously down the remaining steps, the drone at her heels.
When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she paused. In the eerie glow of the candle, she saw that she was indeed inside a dungeon. Iron-barred cells lined both sides of the room. Did the vampires keep prisoners down here? If so, how did they survive the smell? The air was rank, the low ceiling and stark surroundings oppressive. She shuddered at the thought of humans being locked away down here for days, or perhaps weeks, at a time, where no one could hear their screams for help.
Elena moved forward, her steps sounding overly loud in the silence. She gasped as a rat scurried past her. She was about to turn back when she heard Drake’s voice in her mind again.
“Drake!” She hurried forward, her gaze darting right and left. “Drake?”
She found him in the last cell.
He blinked against the light of the candle. “What the hell are you doing down here?”
“I was just exploring, and . . . Oh, Drake.” He looked a little better than the last time she had seen him. It was obvious that he had been given the opportunity to bathe and change his clothes, but it still broke her heart to see him locked away in this dreadful place. “How
long are they going to keep you here?” she asked, then frowned. He wasn’t chained this time. “Why don’t you just . . .” She lifted her free hand and let it fall. “You know, just leave?”
“I gave Rodin my word I would do as he wished.”
“And that includes letting him torture you? What kind of monster is he?”
“I defied him,” Drake said. “For centuries. Whatever fault there is, is mine.”
She reached through the bars, needing to touch him.
“Keep away from me.”
“Drake, please.”
“No, Elena. Whatever we had is over.”
“Is it?” She hated the way her voice trembled. “You said you loved me.” Why couldn’t she be as cool and detached as he appeared to be?
“I do love you. I will love you as long as I live.” Unable to resist her tears, he moved toward her, one hand reaching through the bars to wipe the dampness from her cheeks. “Did he hurt you?”
She didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about, just as she knew there was no point in lying. “Yes, but I’m all right.” She placed her hand over his, then rubbed her cheek against his palm. “I don’t want to live without you.”
“You must. I need to know you are alive and well. I have made provisions for ownership of Wolfram Castle to be transferred to you.”
“But it’s your home!”
“I will be staying here from now on. Rodin will see that you have everything you need.”
“I don’t want anything from him!”
“Take it. It comes from me, not him.” His gaze moved over her face, as if to memorize every line. “I am sorry for the pain I caused you. Had I stayed out of your life, none of this would have happened. Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. You saved me from my uncle. I’ve loved the time we had together.” She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. “And I love you.”
His hand slid down her cheek, his fingers curling around her nape, gently drawing her closer, closer. Murmuring her name, he pressed his lips to hers.
Holding the candle out to the side, she placed her free hand on his shoulder and closed her eyes. His kiss was so tender, so filled with longing, that it brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes.
Knowing he would not be alone with her again, Drake kissed her harder, deeper, his tongue tasting the sweetness of hers while a voice in the back of his mind urged him to defy his sire, to hold fast to Elena and will the two of them back to Wolfram even though he knew it would be madness. There was no escape. If he defied Rodin again, his sire would hunt him down and destroy him, and Elena, too.
She moaned softly as his tongue tangled with hers. The sound, filled with yearning, fired his desire and he kissed her again and yet again, his rising desire igniting his hunger. His fangs extended. One sharp tip grazed her tongue. The taste of her blood roared through him. It had been days since he’d fed. Need rose up within him, urging him to drag her closer, to drink his fill and, in so doing, ease the dreadful agony that ebbed and flowed with every breath.
Cursing the bars that separated them, he slid his hand over her shoulder and down her arm, his fingers curling over her wrist. He could feel the rapid beat of her pulse beneath his fingertips, hear the quick tattoo of her heartbeat.
Why not take what he so desperately needed? He lifted her arm, ran his tongue over her palm to her wrist. The scent of her warm, living blood called to him, enflaming his hunger, promising an end to his pain. The beating of her heart was like sweet music to his ears. His hand tightened on her arm as his fangs teased the tender skin of her wrist.
“Drake . . . Drake! Stop!”
He was breathing heavily now, the urge to feed riding him with whip and spurs.
Elena struggled in his grasp. She would willingly have given him what he needed, but he wasn’t going to allow her that option. He was going to take what he wanted. For the first time since she had met him, she was in sudden fear for her life.
Muttering, “Forgive me,” he bit down, his fangs piercing the tender skin on the inside of her wrist.
Exclaiming, “Forgive me!” Elena jabbed the candle’s flame against his neck.
With a howl, he released her and backed away, one hand slapping at the scorched cloth of his shirt collar.
“I’m sorry!” she cried. “So sorry!”
“Go.” He forced the word out through clenched teeth. “Go now!”
Sobbing, Elena turned on her heel and bolted up the stairs as if all the hounds of hell were barking at her heels.
She didn’t stop running until she was safely in her room, with the door locked.
Chapter 18
“She was here.” It was not a question.
Drake nodded. There was no point in lying. Rodin could detect Elena’s scent in the air as easily as he.
“You promised not to try to see her.”
Drake glanced at his surroundings—the thick iron bars, the stone floor, the corpse of the large brown rat in the next cell—before he stated the obvious. “She came to me.”
“You expect me to believe you did not summon her? That she found you without any help?”
Drake shrugged. “Believe what you will.”
Rodin lifted his head and sniffed the air. “You drank from her.”
Drake’s hands curled around the bars, his knuckles going white as he tightened his grip. “I tried.”
Rodin grunted softly as he caught the faint odor of burnt cloth. “Are you ready to feed?”
Drake nodded. He was certain Elena would never return to the dungeon, but if she did, he needed to be in control of his hunger.
“I will send one of the sheep to you,” Rodin said, approval in his voice. “Is there anyone in particular you would care for?”
“ No.”
“I have arranged for a meeting between you and Katiya for tomorrow night.”
Drake took a deep breath. Then, knowing it was useless, he asked, “Is there nothing I can say or do to change your mind about this?”
“You are my eldest son. You should have taken your rightful place at the head of the Council centuries ago.”
“Let Olaf take my place as head of the Council. He has made no secret of the fact he wants it. I do not.”
Rodin uttered a short, pithy curse. “I thought we had come to terms on this!”
“Yes, your terms!”
“Did I not agree to your stipulations regarding the woman?”
Drake snorted. “My stipulations? Keeping her safe is nothing more than she deserves. I brought her here as a guest. I expected you to treat her as such.”
“Be careful your weakness does not become your undoing.”
Drake shook his head. “Be careful your arrogance does not become yours.”
“We are much alike,” Rodin remarked as he turned to leave. “Perhaps too much.” He paused, speaking over his shoulder. “Very well,” he said curtly. “I will appoint Olaf as head of the Council until you come to your senses.”
Drake stared after his sire. Rodin had changed in the years since Drake had last seen him, but then, change was inevitable, even for vampires.
It was near midnight when the drone known as Number Ten entered the dungeon, with one of the sheep in tow. Drake regarded the girl impassively as the drone unlocked the door.
“Her name is Sophie,” the drone said, and thrust her into the cell.
She was tall and slender, with long brown hair and timid gray eyes. He guessed her to be no more than fifteen or sixteen. Had he ever been that young? At the moment, he felt every one of his five hundred years.
He grunted softly as her clean feminine scent filled his nostrils. It was forbidden for vampires who were old enough to reproduce to mate with the sheep. It would be doubly forbidden for him, he mused glumly. He was to save his seed for Katiya in hopes she would conceive and bear a son.
But it wasn’t Sophie’s body he wanted, tempting as that might be. It was the blood he could hear whispering through her
veins.
She took an involuntary step backward when he moved toward her.
Drake stopped, his eyes narrowing. “Is this your first time?”
She nodded, her gaze darting around the room, looking everywhere but at him. He couldn’t blame her for that. With his scorched flesh and gaunt cheeks, he must look like he had walked out of a nightmare.
“I am sorry the surroundings are not more pleasant,” he muttered with a wry grin.
She said nothing, only stared at him, like a fawn confronted by a wolf.
“I will not hurt you,” he said, and hoped it was true. She flinched when he reached for her hand. Swallowing his anger and his humiliation, he drew her down on the pallet. He could smell the terror on her skin, hear it in the rapid beating of her heart. Taking a deep breath, he murmured, “Relax, child,” as he wrapped her in his arms.
It took all his willpower to control himself. Her blood called to him. His body urged him to take her quickly, to drink and drink and put an end to the incessant pain that wracked him.
She trembled in his arms, her fear increasing his instinct to hunt, to take it all. She cried out when she looked into his face and he knew his eyes had gone red.
“Do not fight me!” he warned, his voice harsh. “I will not be responsible for what happens if you do.”
Eyes tightly shut, she went rigid in his embrace.
Hating himself for what he was about to do, hating Rodin for sending him a woman young and untouched, he lowered his head to her neck and took what he needed so badly, craved so desperately.
Relief was immediate, quickly soothing the pain that burned through him, easing a long and terrible thirst.
He growled when the drone entered the cell, hissed when the girl was wrested from his arms. And then, with a cry, he slammed his fist against the stone floor, despising himself for what he had almost done; indebted, in spite of himself, to Rodin for sending the drone to take the girl away before he drained her dry.
Rodin entered the dungeon two hours later.
Drake regarded his sire through narrowed eyes. Clad in a long wine-colored dressing gown with a high, black velvet collar, the Master Vampire looked like royalty. Which he was, as far as the vampire community was concerned.
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