Rodin leaned one shoulder against the cell door. “I trust the woman was to your liking?”
Drake shrugged. “They are all the same, as you well know.”
“She satisfied your need?”
“Why did you send that particular female to me?”
“She was young and untouched, exactly what you needed for a quick recovery. Judging from your improved appearance, I would say she was just right.”
“I almost killed her.”
Rodin made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “It happens now and then.”
“But you made sure it wouldn’t happen tonight.”
“One of your brothers fancies her,” Rodin said with a shrug. “I promised him he could have her when you were through.”
Striving for calm, Drake took a deep breath. The indifferent attitude of his sire and his brothers toward the sheep was one of the reasons he had left the Fortress. He was a vampire, but he had fought against becoming what they were. In some ways, he thought it would be kinder if they killed those they fed upon. He couldn’t help thinking that death would be preferable to captivity, knew that he would rather be dead than live the kind of life the sheep led, never knowing freedom, never seeing the outside world, forced to surrender their will to that of their captors. Occasionally, if one of the vampires took a liking to a particular man or woman, they claimed them for their own, a private stash, as it were.
Years ago, one of the human males had led a rebellion against the vampires. It had not ended well for the human population. Many of them had perished here, in the dungeon.
“You are to meet with Katiya tomorrow night,” Rodin said. “It will give the two of you a chance to get acquainted. Your mother has requested that we hold a reception in two weeks to honor your betrothal. You will dress appropriately and you will dance every dance with Katiya. When the evening is over, you will escort her to her chambers.”
“Am I ever to have any freedom again?”
“That depends on you. You will feed again tomorrow night, and every night until you are wed.”
“Send me someone with experience.”
Rodin nodded. “As you wish.” He turned to leave, then paused. “Do not shame me in front of Katiya’s parents,” he warned, then vanished from sight.
Drake grasped the bars in his hands. Katiya’s father, Cezar, was a Master Vampire in his own land. Rodin and Cezar had been allies for centuries. In the past, they had joined forces to fight off legions of human hunters bearing torches and swords and stakes.
But it wasn’t the past that concerned Drake now. It was Elena. For the first time in days, he could sense her whereabouts, knew she was in one of the guest chambers upstairs, sleeping.
And dreaming of him.
Drake smiled faintly. He had promised Rodin he wouldn’t try to see Elena, but he hadn’t promised not to visit her in her dreams.
Elena stirred restlessly, tormented by dreams of Vardin holding her down, forcibly taking her blood, his eyes a hellish red. And then, abruptly, her dream changed and it was Drake holding her, his voice softly whispering her name, his hands gentle as they lightly stroked her hair, the curve of her cheek. She sighed as he kissed her. Was this also a dream? It felt so real.
“Drake?”
“Yes, love?”
“Am I dreaming?”
“Yes. And no.” He kissed her again, kissed her with such aching sweetness it brought tears to her eyes.
His hands caressed her out of her nightgown and then he was lying beside her, molding her body to his, arousing her with strong, masterful hands. She reveled in his touch, her own hands moving over him, reacquainting herself with the width of his shoulders, the swell of his biceps, the taste of his skin on her tongue, the thick silk of his hair.
When he rose over her, his eyes glowing with need, she opened to him gladly. If she lived to be a hundred, there would never be anyone else for her. Only Drake, always and forever, whether they were together or apart.
“I love you,” she murmured.
“And I love you,” he replied. “Whether you are near or far, you will always be the other half of my soul, the wife of my heart.”
He caught her close, their bodies melding, moving together, her heat warming him, his kisses arousing her, until she writhed beneath him, reaching, reaching, for that one perfect moment in time when two became one.
She sobbed with pleasure as he moved deep within her, caught up in the wonder and the magic that sparked between them, bound by the passion between them, bound by the night.
Breathless, she clung to him as pleasure exploded deep within her, cried his name when she felt him withdrawing.
“I love you,” he murmured, his voice fading. “I will always love you.”
She woke naked and alone in her bed, her cheeks damp with tears.
The woman the drone brought him the next night was in her late twenties. There was no fear in her eyes when Drake took her in his arms, only a kind of weary resignation that twisted like a knife in his gut, flaying him with guilt and regret for what he was, for the need that would not be denied.
He bent her back over his arm, his hand sweeping her hair to the side as he lowered his head to her neck. He took what he wanted with uncharacteristic roughness, and sent her away.
When she was gone, he wrapped his hands around the bars and rested his forehead against the cold steel, grateful that Elena would soon be gone from this place, a place that he hated with every fiber of his being.
Chapter 19
Katiya stood in the middle of her chamber, one foot tapping impatiently as her mother and Liliana fussed over her gown and her hair. She did not want to be there, did not want to marry Rodin’s oldest son. She had tried both anger and tears, but, for the first time in her life, her sire had turned a deaf ear to both.
Even her mother had refused to be swayed. “We do not marry for love,” Stefanya had replied, her patience quickly coming to an end. “You have a duty to our people to produce as many offspring as you can, while you can.”
Katiya heaved a sigh as Liliana and Stefanya stepped back to admire their handiwork. There were no mirrors in the room, but she could see herself reflected in her mother’s eyes. The dress, of fine burgundy silk and satin, was exquisite. They had piled her hair atop her head, leaving several ringlets to fall artfully over her bare shoulders.
What would Lord Drake think when he saw her? Not that she cared. She wanted nothing to do with him, or his family, or this impending wedding. She didn’t want to live in the Fortress, or—she shivered with revulsion—share Drake’s bed.
“You look lovely,” Liliana said, smiling.
“Thank you,” Katiya muttered. “How long do I have to spend with Drake?”
“Katiya!”
“It is quite all right, Stefanya,” Liliana said. “I think we all know that Drake is also opposed to this match.”
“Then why must we go through with it?” Katiya exclaimed. “Why must I do this? It is so unfair! I will not even be his first wife!”
“Life is often unfair,” Stefanya said calmly. “This will not be the last time you are required to do something you find unpleasant.”
“I hate you!” Katiya cried. “I hate all of you!”
The sound of Stefanya’s hand striking her daughter’s cheek echoed like thunder in the room. “Enough!”
Tears welled in Katiya’s eyes and trailed down her cheeks like drops of scarlet rain.
“It is time,” Stefanya said. Turning, she opened the door and left the room.
“None of us marry for love,” Liliana said quietly. “We do what we must do. You may not love my son, but you will love your children for as long as they let you.”
Drake paced the drawing room floor, his strides long and impatient. His future bride was late, adding to his irritation. The sooner she arrived, the sooner they could get on with this farce.
Rodin turned away from the window. “I would remind you that Elena’s well-being depends on your behavior th
is evening.”
“You have made that abundantly clear.”
Rodin nodded. “See that you do not forget it.” He lifted his head, sniffing the air, then strode toward the door. “Your bride is on her way.”
Rodin had no sooner left the room than the door opened again and Katiya glided into the room, a pout on her pretty face. She closed the door behind her, then stood there, her hands clasped in front of her.
“Good evening,” Drake murmured.
She inclined her head, acknowledging his greeting.
Mindful that his father could overhear everything that was said if he so desired, Drake forced a smile into his voice. “Would you care for a glass of wine?”
“Yes, thank you,” she replied, her voice carefully polite.
“Please, sit down,” Drake invited, gesturing at one of the green-and-beige striped silk settees.
He scowled as he moved toward a table that held a variety of crystal decanters and goblets of varying sizes. How long was he supposed to entertain this stranger and what the hell were they going to talk about until he could escort her back to her apartment?
He filled two glasses. Then, schooling his features into a more pleasant expression, he carried them across the room and offered her one.
She took it with a murmured thank you.
Blowing out a sigh, Drake sat beside her. She was beautiful, of that there was no doubt. He supposed he should be grateful for her comeliness, if nothing else.
“So,” he said, “how soon are we to wed?”
“Never, if I could have my way,” she replied candidly.
Drake stared at her. “You do not want this?”
“No!”
He sat back, his legs comfortably stretched out in front of him as he mulled her response.
“I have no wish to marry a stranger,” she said, and he heard the tears in her voice. “I know it is our way, for men and women to mate when the man is of age and the woman is fertile. I know such matches are arranged between families”—she sniffed loudly—“but I have read of other ways to choose one’s mate.”
“Indeed?” Drake asked, intrigued by her comment.
“Yes! There are places where people are allowed to marry for love.”
“I fear that thought is akin to treason,” he muttered. Vampire marriages were arranged much like those of royalty in ancient times, mainly to unite families or ensure continued peace between rivals.
Katiya met his gaze for the first time. “You were married before, to that mortal woman. Did you love her?”
“I will always love her,” Drake replied quietly, and then he grunted softly. “You are also in love with someone else, are you not?”
“Yes.” Her chin lifted defiantly. “Your brother, Andrei.”
Andrei! Drake shook his head. He’d had no idea.
“You did not know?” Katiya asked.
“I had no idea. How long has this been going on?”
“Since last November.”
Drake grunted softly. Andrei and Drake were half brothers, born to different mothers only a few months apart. “Perhaps this will work to our advantage,” he said, thinking out loud. “Perhaps your sire would accept Andrei as your mate. He is far more suitable than I.”
Katiya shook her head. “My sire thinks only of power. As the eldest son, you are next in line to rule the Carpathian Coven. My sire thinks to ensure the continuance of our treaty.”
Exhaling a sharp breath, Drake took Katiya’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “Maybe if we try very hard, we can figure out a way for both of us to get what we want,” he said, though he didn’t really have much hope for either of them.
Drake thought about what he had told Katiya long after he had bid her good night.
Vampires lived a very long time. Once a male had fathered children, his obligation to the Coven was fulfilled. And since vampires married out of a sense of duty and not for love, it wasn’t uncommon for couples to go their separate ways once their children were grown.
He raked a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to sire a child with a woman he didn’t love. Nor could he expect Elena to wait for him until his child was grown. He might not age, but she grew older with every passing day. Dammit! There had to be a way out of this!
He paced the floor in long angry strides. He didn’t want Katiya. She didn’t want him. What if she simply refused to accept him as her husband? He grinned inwardly. In front of the Council, Rodin had decreed that the marriage would be performed at a time of the bride’s choosing. And if she chose not to marry, what then? Would Rodin hold to his word? Could the answer be so ridiculously simple?
Elena sat in the library, a book open in her lap, her gaze on the flames in the hearth. It had been nearly two weeks since she had seen Drake. Their encounter in the dungeon was never far from her mind. What would have happened if she hadn’t forced him to stop? If she hadn’t had that candle, she would have been helpless to fight him off. Would he have drained her dry?
Driven by the need to see him, to assure herself that he was still alive, she had gone back to the dungeon two nights later, but Drake hadn’t been there and she had lacked the nerve to try to find his room for fear of knocking on Rodin’s door. Or Vardin’s, she thought with a shudder.
Lost in thought, she leaned back and closed her eyes. In two weeks, she hadn’t seen anyone save for the drone who stood guard at her door. Eager for company, she would have asked to be quartered with the sheep if there had been anyone to ask.
How much longer would Rodin keep her here?
Elena was almost asleep when the library door opened and Liliana stepped into the room. Stepped wasn’t really the right word, Elena thought, watching the vampire move toward her. Vampires didn’t walk like normal people. They sort of glided effortlessly across the floor.
“I hope I am not disturbing you,” Liliana said, her voice as smooth and cool as her ice green gown.
“No, of course not.” Elena closed the book in her lap. “I’m glad for the company.”
Liliana lifted one brow. “You are lonely?”
“Yes, very.”
“ Hmm.”
“Haven’t you ever been lonely?”
“No.” The vampire glanced around the room, as if gathering her thoughts. “We are having a reception tonight to celebrate Drake’s forthcoming marriage,” she said at last. “You are welcome to attend, if you wish.”
Elena started to decline, and then she hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to see Drake dancing with his bride-to-be, but if she refused, she might never see him again. Forcing a smile, she murmured, “Thank you, I’d like that.”
“You are a most complicated creature,” Liliana remarked. “You will find something suitable to wear in the wardrobe. Be ready in an hour. Your drone will escort you to the ballroom.”
Elena nodded. She watched Drake’s mother glide out of the room, then frowned. She had wandered all over the Fortress but she hadn’t seen anything resembling a ballroom. Had she missed something?
Laying the book aside, she went to her room to get ready.
The formal gown Liliana had left for her was exquisite. Pale blue in color, the full skirt was scalloped around the hem, revealing a dark blue underskirt trimmed in yards of white lace. Matching blue ribbons were woven through the neckline of the bodice; a wide sash of the same dark blue as the underskirt circled her waist.
Elena brushed her hair until it shone like ebony, brushed her teeth, sprayed herself with perfume, and told herself she wasn’t the least bit nervous.
Nevertheless, her stomach fluttered with anxiety as she followed her drone down the corridor. He paused halfway between the art gallery and the library. Elena looked at him, askance, wondering what they were waiting for, when he placed his hand on the wall. Much to her surprise, a door opened.
She paused before following the drone up a long flight of stairs, wondering, as she did so, if there were other doors hidden in other corridors. Were there bolt-holes here, as well? N
o time to think about that now.
Chiding herself for foolishly agreeing to attend a gathering where she would be the only sheep among a pack of wolves, she followed the drone down a narrow hallway that opened onto a large, rectangular room. Three of the walls and a good portion of the ceiling were made of glass, affording the guests a splendid view of the valley below and the star-studded sky above.
A trio of long tables covered in gold damask held dozens of crystal decanters and wineglasses. No other refreshments were in evidence.
The room, the view, the vampires—it was the most amazing sight Elena had ever seen. If she hadn’t known the truth, she would never have guessed these beautifully coiffed and gowned women and handsome men were vampires. They looked more like movie stars from a bygone era, when an air of mystery still surrounded actors and actresses.
A woman with bright red hair sat at the grand piano located on a small stage at the far end of the room. She closed her eyes as her long, pale fingers flew effortlessly over the keys, never missing a note.
Elena stared at the mirror that took up most of the wall behind the stage. It reflected the woman at the piano and the vampires who stood in clusters around the room, laughing and talking, as well as the couples who were waltzing in the center of the floor.
She frowned. There had been no mirrors in Wolfram. All the myths said vampires couldn’t see their reflections, and yet that obviously wasn’t true.
A tall, dark-haired man—one of Drake’s many brothers by the look of him—approached her, a smile of welcome on his face. “Good evening, Miss Knightsbridge. May I have this dance?”
His request startled her, leaving her speechless.
“I am Andrei. Do you waltz?”
“Not very well.”
“Then I shall teach you,” he said, and taking her hand in his, he led her onto the dance floor.
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