Because I can’t touch Edmund, I rest my hand on Michelle’s lower back. “I wouldn’t have killed you.”
“No, but you thought about it.”
“Maybe, but that was before you opened your eyes. Before you made me laugh.”
He inclines his head to me, and the affection in his eyes is almost enough to make my dead heart explode.
Of course, the levity can’t last.
“Which one uh you is the fancy new duke?”
Edmund’s face falls as he glances over his shoulder. I follow his gaze. A bearded brute, built like a brick shithouse, stands a couple feet away. Men of similar size and shape, hands forever stained from farming, flank him on either side.
Edmund winces before turning to face them. “That would be me.” Never a small man—not since I’ve known him, at least—his height, pale skin, and black hair give him the resemblance of an avenging angel.
A goon to the right speaks up. “Another Duke of Wilshire ain’t never good news.”
Their ringleader, the guy in the middle with the beard and sharp eyes, glares. “Oh, I remember you as a boy. Prissy little thing.”
The men rumble with laughter.
“Used to chase butterflies through the woods.” He spits on the ground.
Edmund smiles.
“Somethin’ funny?”
“Your misplaced animosity, perhaps. I’ve done nothing to you—unless I stole one of your butterflies?”
The men laugh again, and I realize they’re drunk. They don’t care who’s making the jokes, as long as the jokes are forthcoming. I wonder if Edmund knows this. He’s good at picking fights, enjoys it even, but these country folk are harmless…except for maybe the big guy in the middle.
His nostrils flare. “I hear your mum’s gone bonkers. That’s why you’re back, ain’t it?”
Edmund’s smile slips a little.
“You know what I think?” The brute takes a step closer, lowers his voice. “I think she’s been without a man too long. What she needs is a good fuckin’.”
Michelle, bless her, speaks up. “And I suppose you’re the man for the job? You might want to bathe first. You smell comparable to the ass end of a horse.”
There are catcalls all around, and for a second, I think the fiend might grab for Michelle’s throat. Instead, he says, “I don’t listen to whores,” and turns his attention back to Edmund. His voice goes even lower. “Rumor has it that’s what you need, too: a good buggerin’. I’d make you cry like a little girl.”
I begin to lurch forward, but Edmund’s voice freezes me in place. “Leave it, Andrew.”
I wonder if he’s just thrown a bit of influence my way, because my legs turn to lead.
“We don’t want any trouble,” Edmund says.
The big man sneers. “Then, don’t come into the pub. You fuckin’ fairy.” Show over, he ambles back to his friends, who nod and smack him on the back. He walks beyond them, to the back of the pub, and out the back door to what I assume is the privy.
Edmund finishes his beer and wipes his hand over his mouth. “Let me have some fun,” he says quietly, barely moving his lips.
“Let me watch,” Michelle says.
My mouth hangs open in shock, but I blindly follow them out onto the street. Instead of walking toward our carriage, Edmund turns left at the edge of the building. Michelle’s teeth flash at me as she glances back, perhaps making sure I’m still there. I don’t smile back, but then, I know the dark deeds my beloved sailor is capable of doing.
Michelle and I linger in the darkness of an overhang as Edmund steps into the silver glow of the moon. The privy door bangs open, and the man from inside stumbles out, still buttoning his pants.
He stops when he sees Edmund. “What the fuck uh you doin’ out here?”
“I thought you wanted to make me cry.”
The man scoffs. “Oh, I’ll make yuh bleed.”
He’s bigger than Edmund, practically my size. He wraps his meaty fingers around Edmund’s neck and squeezes until my darling chokes. He slams him against a wall, and it’s harder to see what’s happening without the moon to light them, but I can still see the way Edmund claws at the man’s hand. He loosens his grip, and Edmund takes a huge, desperate breath before he whimpers. I assume the brute cut off his air again, but here’s the thing about vampires…
“Call yourself a filthy sodomite, and I’ll let you breathe.”
Edmund gasps again but is almost immediately strangled. He puts up a struggle, his shoes slipping in the damp dirt. I nearly believe his panic is real.
“Say it,” the man commands.
It starts softly at first, Edmund’s laughter. Then, it gets louder.
“What in the—”
“Hate to tell you, mate, but I don’t need to breathe.”
The man, for all his great size and strength, flies backward. Michelle chuckles in front of me, but I know to keep an eye on Edmund. He’s angry, and I can’t let things go too far. He moves quickly, punch after punch, as the brute tries to fight back, but Edmund is not only a vampire but a boxer too. He doesn’t lose fights—unless, I suppose, they’re with me.
“What should I tell your friends inside?” Edmund ducks an unsteady punch, and the man lurches forward. “Should I tell them the prissy boy beat you to shit in the alley?”
Still trying to regain his bearings, the man catches Edmund’s elbow in the back of his neck. He groans and falls to his hands and knees. Edmund circles before kicking the man in the stomach, sending him sprawling onto his back. The big beast groans and rolls around like a turtle on its shell.
“Please,” he mutters.
“Please?” Edmund laughs, but it does not resemble the warm, giddy laugh I’m used to. “Please, what? Please, stop? Would you have given me the same mercy?” He straddles his victim, and I think I should say something. I should end this, but I can’t stop watching. I love watching him feed. He tears the man’s shirt open before leaning down and running his nose up the man’s neck. “You shouldn’t have said that about my mother.”
There is but one small choked sound from the man as Edmund breaks his skin. He shoves at Edmund’s shoulders, but I know my darling’s teeth are stronger than any vice. He drinks and drinks until I can practically taste the blood on his lips.
Then, suddenly, Michelle emerges from the shadows. “Edmund, stop!”
He doesn’t.
“Edmund, stop this now!”
He still doesn’t. Michelle has to latch onto his hair and pull to get him to listen. Even then, he stares up at her, moonlight reflecting off his furrowed brow. Blood drips from his parted lips.
“You’ll kill him,” she says.
“So?” he asks.
She lets go of him and takes a step back. “We don’t kill humans, Edmund.”
“Why shouldn’t we? They are merely food.”
Michelle’s hand flails toward me. “Andrew?” Her voice shakes.
“He doesn’t mean it. Edmund, you don’t mean it. You’re only angry. My love?”
He glares at me, eyes wide and shining.
“We should go home.”
He gestures to the semi-conscious man between his legs. His voice is calm, collected, no longer tinged with blood. “He’ll remember what I did. Shit, he’ll tell everyone.”
Yes, Felipe and I used to have just such a problem, back in the old days when we fed freely and kidnapped humans to become blood slaves. God, it seems like a million years ago.
Edmund gently smacks the man on the ground until he mumbles. Eventually, his eyes open. He shrieks in terror.
“Shh,” Edmund whispers. “You’re safe now. When you came out to the privy, you were beaten and robbed. There were three of them. You don’t remember what they looked like, and you’re embarrassed to tell your mates, so you’ll make excuses about your injuries. You won’t even notice the wound on your neck.” Edmund stands and extends his hand to the man on the ground, who takes it willingly, a blank expression on his face. �
�You’re going straight home now, and you will never say a bad thing about my family again.”
“Yes,” he says. I watch the stranger wander toward the street but am distracted when I hear Edmund’s body hit the ground.
Chapter Ten
AFTER A CARRIAGE ride in which I do my best to explain Edmund’s growing influencing ability to a panicked Michelle, we carry Edmund into the front hall of Heavenhill. Before I even have to yell for Brien, he is there, flying down the steps like a huge crow. We lay Edmund on a couch in the parlor, and Brien looms over him, hands on my darling’s pale face.
I’m about to explain what happened when Brien shakes his head. “I know everything. His mind called to me from outside.”
“His wh—” It scares me how connected they are—but not as much as Edmund’s bleary consciousness.
His eyes crack open as he reaches for his maker. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.” Brien’s thumb caresses Edmund’s cheek. “I gave you your abilities to use.”
As much as I want to be between them, shoving them apart, I hope the Elder gets on with it. He needs to let Edmund feed.
I hear her before I see her: the sound of high-heeled boots stomping toward us. “Devils!” Patricia screams. “I will not have naked men wandering my house.”
I want to tell her it’s not her house, but I’m distracted by the naked men comment. Ah, shit. Felipe and Flynn had come back earlier from the maze for intercourse. Jesus.
“And you!” She walks farther into the room and flings her arms out toward Edmund. Despite the late hour, she’s still fully dressed in another boring black gown. Some of her light-red hair has fallen from its bun, surely thanks to shouting at our friends earlier. “Drunk! Filthy drunk!”
Edmund stirs at the sound of her voice but doesn’t sit up.
“I should have you thrown out of here, the lot of you!”
I hear the musical sound of trembling glass and notice one of the decanters on the drink tray has started to shake. “Lady Patricia,” I whisper, “now is not the time.”
“You were a prideful, self-indulgent child, and you’ve grown into the worst kind of man!”
A second decanter shakes, as does a nearby snifter.
“My lady.” I step between Edmund and her. “Please, may we discuss this in the morning? We will be more stable-minded then.”
“That boy has never had a stable mind! He has been sick since birth. A whore for men and women. Decadent and disgusting.” She tries to reach around me to point at him, but I bar passage. “You will burn in hell, Edmund Baines!”
A decanter actually explodes, which makes us all jump.
Patricia gasps and crosses herself.
I take her by the shoulders and try pushing her toward the door, but she smacks my hands away. Before leaving, she spits into my face, lifts her skirts, and tromps off to what I assume is a bedroom covered in crosses and, well, misery.
I wipe saliva from my cheek and turn to see Edmund trying to curl himself into a ball. His face is nothing but wrinkles.
“Edmund, feed. Now.” Brien extends his wrist, and Edmund bites down. He doesn’t make a noise. He doesn’t even look as though he enjoys it, not like he does with humans. He drinks until Brien pulls his arm away and crushes Edmund in an embrace.
I move forward to comfort, but Brien holds him tighter. He turns his body away, moving Edmund farther from me. “No,” the Elder says. “You hurt him last night. Did you hope I did not hear?”
“I know you heard. It was a mistake.”
“Andrew?” Michelle asks quietly.
I shake my head in refusal.
Brien growls. “Precious things should not be hurt. They should be treasured.”
“Give him to me.”
“No.”
When I take a step forward, the broken decanter glass from the floor rises and flies between us, creating a sharp, shimmering wall.
“Try to walk through, villain. It will not kill you, but the sensation will not be pleasant. I will see to that.”
I look to Michelle for help, but her eyes dart between us as though not sure what to do. The Elder is a creature she does not know, does not understand. She just heard that I harmed something she adores, but that very something scared her earlier with his talk of humans being nothing but food.
God, we’re all monsters.
“Brien, stop.” Edmund’s voice is muffled, face pressed to Brien’s shoulder. “Last night, it…it wasn’t… I am just as at fault as he.”
Brien scoffs and curls his fingers in Edmund’s hair—as if the more twisted together they are, the less likely Edmund is to leave.
“Brien, please, I…I need Andrew right now.”
The Elder only holds tighter. “You need me.”
Edmund, bless him, finds the energy to laugh. “I know, but this is different. Right now, I need my beloved.”
“He hurt you.”
“I hurt him first.” Edmund begins to pull back, and Brien’s grip loosens. Edmund watches me through the wall of shattered glass. Unlike the quivering mess of flesh he’d been in the carriage, he is rosy-cheeked, glowing. “Let’s go to bed.” He stands and, using his own gift, sends the shards of glass flying, floating into a decorative vase in the corner. He thanks Brien.
“You should be worshipped,” he says.
Edmund kisses the Elder on the forehead. “I am.” He takes my hand. Together, we leave the room, but before reaching the steps, Michelle speaks.
“Edmund?”
“Hmm?”
“We will talk in the morning, you and I. Is that understood?”
He nods. “Yes. In the morning. Everything is brighter in the morning.” He pulls me up the steps, and we make the long, slow walk to our bedroom in silence.
WITH HIS ELBOWS on the chaise, his spread knees on a pile of pillows and blankets, I’m not sure how much more he can take. His entire back shines with sweat. The nubs of his spine struggle up beneath his skin, back arched, head buried in the furniture. He quietly whimpers as my two fingers move in and out of him, slowly, slowly… It’s been almost an hour since I started, but something about the deliberate way we undressed, the careful kisses—I know he needs this. He needs to be overtaken by my touch until nothing but the two of us remain.
I run my other hand up Edmund’s back. I add a third finger and thrust. He sobs once, and his fingers curl up by his head. I find the place within him that will make him see stars and push.
“Oh God, oh God… Andrew, I need…”
“Not yet.”
“Fuck.” He buries his hands in his hair and pulls.
The backs of his thighs tremble. I take hold of his hip and scissor my fingers as I twist in and out. After less than a minute of this, his whole body shakes. I stop thrusting but keep my fingers inside as I lean forward and kiss across his back. “I love when you beg.”
“Please, I need you.”
I move my fingers a little. It’s not enough to achieve any sort of completion, but the movement does force a grunt from his lips. He reaches back for me as though I am ballast in a roaring sea.
I kiss his hand. “I want to see you.”
I remove my fingers, and he melts onto his side amidst the bedding we’ve strewn about the floor. I roll him onto his back, and his chest is as sweat-soaked as the rest of him. Unnecessary breaths pump rapidly in and out of his chest. I kneel between his legs. I push soaked hair from his forehead and kiss his neck. I kiss across nipples, down his stomach. I run my tongue up the side of his cock, and he startles, putting one hand in my hair.
“Don’t make me wait anymore.” The words are desperate, shaking.
I sit up and lift one of his legs over my shoulder. Edmund reaches his long arms up and drags me into a wet, warm kiss. Mouths still touching, I press into him. His head falls back on a gasp, and I tongue across his collarbone.
I try to go slow. Every thrust brings another quiet moan to his lips. I move gentle and deep. When fully surrou
nded by his heat, I even pause and spend several moments just kissing him, caressing his skin. His fingers claw at me and then relax. I whisper words like spells: beautiful…perfect…always… I’m sorry…love…love…
Mouth wide, he comes with a cry. I fuck him through an orgasm that makes his muscles tense. Then, I let myself go.
Blind with pleasure, I shrug his leg off my shoulder before my arms go out from under me. I rest my full weight on him and rub my face in his hair.
With his arms around me, he is silent.
“What is it, Edmund?”
It takes him so long to respond, I almost wonder if he’s asleep. “I’m scared of what he’s done to me.”
I don’t have to ask, so I wait.
“It’s as though I can hear him in my head sometimes. Feel him there. Things get hazy. In the alley tonight, I felt as though I was half there and half not.”
I lean up on my elbow and roll onto my side. “You’re still you.”
“Am I?” He sighs. “Does he have power over me, do you think?”
“From what I’ve observed, it seems to be the other way around.”
“But what does he want, Andrew? He could be anywhere in the world right now, and yet, he lingers.”
I frown. “He’s the only one who can heal you.”
“Then, I won’t influence people anymore. I will not be dependent on him.” He rolls toward me and pushes his forehead against my chest. “He wants something.”
“You.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s more than that. He’s up to something.”
“What makes you say that?”
“A feeling.” His fingers tickle my stomach. “A feeling that he wants…more. He’s biding his time to take…something.” He yawns. “I’m knackered.”
“Let’s get you to bed then.”
It’s a relief that I’m still strong enough to carry him, considering he’s basically unconscious by the time I get him beneath the sheets. I sit on the edge and watch him snore, wondering how much Brien just heard. Surely, he heard the sex, but did he hear our whispered conversation? If Edmund is right, well…
I put my hand on Edmund’s shoulder. Brien will take nothing from me.
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