Rich in love, Elena thought. Perhaps that would see them through. But, to be on the safe side, she had Drake drive her to the bookstore in the city the following night.
Drake shook his head as she handed him one book after another. “Are you sure we need all of these?” he asked, perusing the titles—Your Baby from Birth to Teen, Doctor Spock’s Baby and Child Care, Your Baby’s First Year, How to Be a Successful Parent, Do’s and Don’ts of Rearing Your Child, The ABC’s of Baby Care.
“I just wish they had a few more.”
“More? Good Lord, woman, we are only having one child.”
“I want to know everything there is to know.”
Wisely, he didn’t argue, just paid the bill, and prayed that the baby would be born strong and healthy and that Elena would survive the birth of their child.
For the next two weeks, Elena immersed herself in reading. She’d known she had a lot to learn, but she had no idea how much she didn’t know.
She said as much to Drake when they were in bed one night.
He laughed softly as he stroked the curve of her cheek. “You do not have to learn all of it before the baby comes,” he said. “You only need to learn what you need right now. No point in worrying about raising a teenager until the time comes.”
“You’re right,” she said with a sigh. “I know you’re right. It’s just such an awesome responsibility, raising a baby.” Taking his hand in hers, she placed it over her womb. “Feel that?”
“Quite a lusty kick for a little girl,” he remarked. Surely that was a good sign. “I hope she looks like you.”
“Drake?”
“Yes, wife?”
“What will she be?”
He knew what she was asking, knew she was wondering if their daughter would follow in her father’s footsteps when she turned twenty. “I do not know if she will become vampire, Elena. To my knowledge, there are no half-vampires in existence.”
“Does that mean they are born either human or vampire?”
He drew her closer, afraid to tell her the truth, yet certain that keeping it from her would do more harm than good. She needed to be prepared for the worst, should it happen.
“Drake?”
“As far as I know, no child conceived by a vampire and a human has ever survived.”
Elena stared at him, her hand pressed tightly, protectively, over her stomach. “No! No! That can’t be true!” Tears flooded her eyes. “I don’t believe you!” she said, sobbing. “I won’t!”
He drew her into his arms and held her close. He should have taken precautions, he thought, should have remembered what had happened to Stefan, but matings between vampires and humans were rare, and conceptions rarer still. . . . He cursed softly. If anything happened to Elena or their baby, he would never forgive himself.
Tavian Dinescu huddled under a tree in the forest behind Wolfram Castle. Clad in rags, his body gaunt from lack of food, his beard thick, he stared at the lights burning in the window on the second floor.
He had hidden here for days, leaving the cover of the trees only late at night to scavenge in the forest, or creep down the hill to the town to steal whatever food he could find.
Sitting there, shivering in the cold, he tried to make sense of his muddled thoughts, but it was hard to think, hard to concentrate. He recalled the trial, but could not remember why he had confessed. Even when they showed him the confession, written in his own hand, he could not remember writing it. Deep in the far recesses of his mind, a faint memory niggled, something to do with the lord of Wolfram Castle, but when he tried to remember, it made his head hurt.
He hated all of them, hated the whole town for their treachery. He had protected them, kept them safe, and they had all turned their backs on him.
But the worst offender was Elena. He had opened his home to her, fed and clothed her, offered her his name and what had she done in return? She had testified against him, the ungrateful brat! Sent him to that awful place for crazy people. He clapped his hands over his ears, shutting out the echo of tormented cries in the night, the moaning and groaning of the sick, the dying, the sobs of the hopeless, the helpless.
They would pay, he thought, rubbing his hands together with anticipation. Oh, yes, they would all pay. And Elena most of all. When the moment was right, he would strike. She would not escape him again.
Chapter 34
November turned to December, bringing a flurry of snow that quickly covered the ground and clothed the trees in gowns of white. In spite of the fireplaces and heaters in every room, the castle was chilly. Elena spent most of her time in the main hall, curled up on the sofa in front of the hearth, sometimes reading, sometimes napping.
Strangely, Drake, in his cat persona, had returned. He spent his days sitting beside her, or stretched out along the back of the sofa, sleeping. She was glad for the company.
She had asked Drake about the return of the cat the first time it appeared. He had said only that he missed her during the day and wanted to be near her. She suspected it was more than that. Her uncle was still out there, somewhere, and even though Drake claimed not to be worried, she knew he was.
Drake appeared late one afternoon, when the sky had turned dark and overcast. “This will be our first Christmas together,” he said, helping her into a heavy winter coat. “I thought we should have a tree.”
Excited at the idea, Elena pulled on a pair of fur-lined boots and gloves, put on a fur-lined hat, and followed him outside, where he picked up an ax and laid it on his shoulder. “Ready?”
“Ready,” she said.
She followed him down a path he had cleared earlier to the edge of the forest.
“Which one do you like?” he asked.
She glanced from tree to tree. “That one,” she said, pointing. “But how will you ever carry it into the house?” she asked, and then grinned sheepishly. To a vampire, carrying a ten-foot tree was akin to a mortal carrying one-half that size.
It took only a few strokes of the blade to bring the tree crashing down.
Returning home, he shook the snow from the branches, then carried the tree into the main hall. “Where do you want it?”
“There,” she said, pointing to the far corner of the room.
He quickly built a stand and nailed it to the base of the tree.
“We don’t have any ornaments,” Elena said. “Or lights.”
“We’ll take care of that tomorrow night,” he said. “For now, you need to get warmed up.”
“I’m fine.”
“Of course you are.” Even as he was speaking, he was helping her out of her coat, boots, and hat, settling her on the sofa, covering her with the afghan she had made, bringing her a cup of hot tea.
Elena smiled up at him, thinking he was the most wonderful, sweet, caring man in the whole world.
She was about to tell him so when she sensed a familiar ripple in the air. Moments later, Andrei materialized in the room.
Elena’s smile of welcome faded when she saw the expression on his face. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
“The baby was born tonight,” Andrei said, his voice flat.
He didn’t have to say anything else. She saw the sorrow in his face, the pain in his eyes.
“He came too early, and lived only a few minutes. Just long enough”—Andrei swallowed hard—“long enough for me to hold him.”
“How is Katiya?” Drake asked.
“For a time, I thought I would lose her, too. But she will be all right.”
“Andrei, I’m so sorry,” Elena murmured. “Is there anything we can do?”
“No.” He sank down on the edge of the sofa beside Elena, his head cradled in his hands. “Her mother sent me away, told me Katiya needed to rest. I wandered around outside the Fortress and then”—he shrugged—“I found myself here. We were happy here.”
Feeling helpless, Elena looked up at Drake, who was standing near the hearth. What can we do?
He shook his head. He needs time.
“I should go back,” Andrei said. “I just thought you should know.”
Biting down on her lower lip, Elena slid her arm around Andrei’s shoulders. To her surprise, he turned into her embrace, his arms going around her waist. He held on tight, his body shaking uncontrollably as sobs racked his body.
“She’ll be all right,” Elena said, patting his back. “She’s young and strong. And she loves you.”
Andrei took a deep breath, then drew back. “Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
Andrei rose heavily to his feet. “I must go back.”
“You may stay, if you wish,” Drake said.
Andrei shook his head. “Katiya will be missing me.”
“How are things at the Fortress otherwise?” Drake asked.
“All is well. Your plan to free the sheep was a good one. The transition has gone smoothly. I must go.” He bowed in Elena’s direction, and then he was gone.
“Poor Andrei,” Elena murmured.
Drake nodded. He had never fully understood Stefan’s pain, he thought, perhaps because he, himself, had never been in love, never lost anyone he cared for, but he understood it clearly now. He had seen Stefan’s pain reflected in Andrei’s eyes.
Needing to hold Elena, he sat beside her and drew her into his arms as he faced the very real possibility that he could lose Elena, and the baby, too.
Later, lying in the dark in Drake’s arms, fears about her baby, about the birth itself, rose in Elena’s mind. Katiya had been young and healthy, in her prime for bearing a child. If Katiya could not conceive and carry a vampire child, what chance did a mortal woman have? Elena placed her hand over her womb. Would her baby be born too early, as well? Take a few breaths, then slip away, its life over before it had even begun? And what of her own life? Andrei said they had almost lost Katiya. If a vampire, who had the strength of twenty and was nearly invincible, was at risk, how much more so was she?
“Elena, you must not worry.”
He was reading her mind again, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t wanted to worry him with her fears, but now that they were out in the open, she needed to talk about it, needed his reassurance.
“Do not be afraid for our little girl,” he murmured, stroking Elena’s hair. “She will survive. I can hear her heart beating, strong and steady.”
Elena nodded.
“She already knows your voice,” he said. “Whenever you speak, her heartbeat speeds up a little. I know she is eager to see your face, to be in your arms.”
His words brought tears to Elena’s eyes. True or not, it was what she needed to hear. Content to be in his arms, she closed her eyes. How blessed she was, to have Drake in her life. What more could she ask than to spend the rest of her life with this incredible man?
What more, indeed, but a life as long as his. She stirred restlessly. She would not think of that now. She was still young. Old age was far in the future, yet she grew older every day. She had rarely given much thought to death. It was, after all, a fact of life. Unless you were a vampire. Tears stung her eyes. The day would come when her youth would be gone, and her health with it. What would become of them then?
“What troubles you now, wife?”
“Nothing,” she lied.
Sitting up, he used the pads of his thumbs to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Since when does nothing make you weep?”
“I’m pregnant,” she said, sniffling. “I’m always weepy these days.”
“I can feel your sadness.” His gaze searched her face. He could see it clearly, even in the dark. “Do I need to read your mind to find out what is bothering you?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Then tell me.”
“What’s going to happen to us when I start to get old and you don’t? Will you still love me then? Will you still want me?”
With a sigh, he turned on the bedside lamp, then drew her up beside him, his arm circling her shoulders. Fool that he was, he had put the future out of his mind, content to live in the present with the woman he loved.
Fighting back her tears, she eased out of his embrace.
“Elena . . .”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to say anything.” Did she really expect him to stay with her, be content to be with her, when she was seventy or eighty and looked it, and he was still a virile male with the face and body of a thirty-year-old?
“It does not have to be like that,” he said quietly. “There are ways . . .”
Eyes widening in horror, she scooted backward. “I don’t want to be a vampire.”
“You cannot become what I am. As I told you before, I was not made a vampire. It is what I am. But there are ways to prolong your life. Your youth. You are young yet. We have years before you need to decide.”
“What ways?” she asked, curiosity mingling with revulsion.
“If you drink from me, it will slow the aging process, so that with the passing of each year, your body will only age one day.”
“How often would I have to drink your blood?”
“Every night for the first year, then every week, then every month, then only once a year for as long as you wish.”
“And when I stop drinking?”
“You will begin to age normally again. But, as I said, you needn’t worry about it now.” Reaching out, he took her back into his arms, aligning her body with his. “Whatever you decide, I will never leave you. Do you understand ? Never. If you choose to live a normal span of years, I will be at your side. The last face you see will be mine, I swear it.”
It was a lot to expect of any man, Elena thought, but Drake was not really a man.
“So, wife, have I set your mind at ease?”
“Yes, I guess so.” The thought of drinking blood was repulsive, but to age only one day for each year she lived . . . The idea was mind-boggling. Could it be true?
“It is a carefully guarded secret,” Drake said. “You must never tell anyone.”
She nodded. If people knew there was a way to live practically forever, they would be hunting vampires relentlessly for their blood. Greedy men would make a fortune selling it. People would kill for it.
“So, no one else—no other human I mean—knows about it?”
“None living.”
“But others have done it?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to them?”
“There have only been five that I know of. One grew weary of living and reverted to being human. Three died in accidents. One was killed when she decided to share her knowledge with the world. When her vampire mate discovered her intent, she was destroyed.”
Elena nodded. “But the blood . . .” She shuddered in revulsion.
“It is a small price to pay for immortality, is it not?”
Elena thought about what Drake had said the next morning while doing the laundry. What would it be like, to live virtually forever? She had asked Drake a similar question once before. His reply had been that it could be challenging after a few hundred years because, by then, one had seen everything and done everything.
She tossed a load of damp clothes into the dryer, piled another load into the washer, added soap and fabric softener as she considered something else Drake had said when she’d asked him about living so long. He had told her that vampires sometimes buried themselves in the ground. To rest. Buried alive, she thought with a shudder.
Still, it would be nice to be virtually indestructible, she mused. If she was a vampire, she could do all the things she was afraid to do, like scuba diving and skydiving and rock climbing. But she couldn’t become a true vampire. Not that she really wanted to be one, of course.
But living for centuries, that was within her grasp, if she could just overcome her disgust at drinking blood. She sighed. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it was Drake’s blood. . . .
She shook her head. It would still be disgusting, she thought. If she didn’t have to drink it directly from Drake, maybe she co
uld mix it with a little wine to make it more palatable. But, palatable or not, it would be worth it if it meant a longer life with the man she loved.
Going upstairs to the main hall, she opened the door and peered outside. It was snowing again.
She stood at the door a moment, watching the tiny white flakes settle on the trees and the ground. She had been cooped up inside for days. She was wondering if she dared go outside, just for a few minutes, when a movement to her right caught her eye. Before she could register what she was seeing, a hand clamped a rag over her nose and mouth, stifling her startled scream. Her nostrils filled with a sickly sweet smell, and then everything went blank.
Chapter 35
Elena awoke, not knowing what had happened or where she was, only that she was cold. A quick glance at her surroundings showed that she was in a wooden shed of some kind. Pale sunlight filtered through a small, dirty window set high in one wall. A chill wind howled outside, rattling the door, creeping through the cracks in the old building, making her shiver.
A shiver born of fear rather than the cold slithered down her spine when she realized her hands were tied behind her, and that the brown lump in the corner was moving, standing.
As Elena’s vision cleared, a scream rose in her throat, but no sound emerged.
Hatred mingled with lust in Tavian Dinescu’s sunken eyes. And then he slapped her. “You little whore,” he said with a sneer, and struck her again, harder this time.
Elena’s head snapped back, her ears ringing from the force of the blows.
She stared up at him, fear turning to raw terror when she looked into his eyes—his crazy mad eyes. He was going to rape her, here and now, she thought. And then he was going to kill her.
“My baby . . . please . . . don’t . . .”
“Shut up!” Grabbing the cuffs of her maternity jeans, he jerked her pants down over her hips, leaving them bunched around her ankles. Her panties followed.
She was sobbing now, alarm for her unborn baby clawing at her mind as Dinescu shoved her down on the floor. Her bound hands dug into her back, but she was hardly aware of the discomfort. She rolled onto her side in a vain effort to crawl away, but it was impossible with her hands tied. Impossible because there was nowhere to go.
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