by Multiple
Somehow, the panic wouldn’t rise as high as she thought it should and she tried to focus her blurred vision on her fingers. Shouldn’t they be bleeding more? She blinked several times and it seemed to her with each blink the torn flesh looked better.
Trinity’s blood.
“Oh,” she moaned at the remembrance. She’d tasted it again and it was so intoxicating sliding down her throat, fusing in her body. “It heals me,” she breathed, remembering. That was why her battered flesh was healing and why the pain was bearable. Yet, why was she hurt? Where was she?
Then she remembered Trinity’s body against her and the spear of his manhood … “Trinity,” she gasped. Where was he? He’d been with her in the carriage. She forced her body to turn despite fearing it would hurt. However, the pain was dull. But then she heard a snort that made her whine in fear. “Oh, God.”
Quickly she saw it was a horse, above her, but several paces away. She realized there was broken wood and metal around her as the horse stomped and the wreckage groaned. “No,” she whispered, praying the horse wouldn’t move. She could see its harness was still attached. Slowly, she made her way out of the wreckage of the carriage. With each move and turn she made through the broken mass, she felt stronger and the pain grew less. Trinity’s blood. It was strengthening her and healing her, she thought, grasping a broken carriage rail for support. She realized her breasts were tumbled out of her bodice. Because we made love.
She moaned in distress, remembering as she swayed and tried to right the collar of her dress to cover her chest. Her dress was torn and she could barely manage to get her breasts covered from the sun glaring down on the wreckage. It had to be the middle of the day with the sun straight overhead and there was the strangest feeling in her temples. It was as though words of desperation spoke without sound or form. Just impressions … and they were insistent.
She looked down the curve in the road; something dire was happening far ahead. It was desperate and the feelings were agonized as though someone dear was dying. She clutched her forehead. How could she feel such things? A groan sounded behind her, startling her and making her gasp.
“Trinity,” she cried, seeing some movement in the rubble. No further sound issued, and she had to pick her way through the uneven tumble of boards and bent metal. She came out on the far side from where she’d heard the groan, and now that she was on even ground, she picked up her trailing skirts and started to hurry. However, a second later she halted with a whine in her throat. There was a man lying sprawled on the ground. He was on his side and his arm was at such a strange angle behind him it had to be broken.
She realized he had to be the carriage driver and even though it frightened her to go nearer to him, to see if he lived, she forced herself. As she stooped beside him, placing her hand on his chest to feel if it was rising and falling, she thought it was a blessing he was unconscious. She could feel the shallow lifting of his chest, but his body was twisted with multiple breaks.
“I will try to find help,” she whispered, touching his temple. She rose, desperate to find Trinity, as she picked up her skirts and hurried around the side of the wreckage.
What she saw made her cry out Trinity’s name as she ran up to him and fell to her knees beside him. He was pinned under the wreckage with an axle beam over his chest and one of his arms caught under more pieces of wreckage, as he lay as if he were nailed to a cross. His eyes were closed and there seemed to be steam coming from the flesh on his face and hand. The sunlight? Was it because he was a vampire? It was so bright and hot. She never should have forced him to leave during daylight.
He looked so pale, with bluish casts under his closed eyes. His strong lips were lifelessly pale and his jaw slackened from its normal, chiseled strength. Beth grabbed her skirts with one hand, trying to hold them up to shield his face, while her other hand landed flat on his chest. It didn’t move — it seemed he wasn’t breathing.
Panic slid through her. “Trinity. Trinity.” She pushed against his chest.
“The wood,” he rasped, so low she barely caught it, as his eyes stayed closed. Hope struck her fast and clear. He was alive. But she looked around them. There was wood everywhere. What did he mean? “My leg.” His voice was barely a whisper.
Beth scooted back, bypassing the beam to look at Trinity’s lower body. She saw it immediately and a cry of distress shuddered from her lips as she scooted closer to the injury. It was a piece of wood imbedded in his thigh. She couldn’t tell how far it went in, but it was as thick as her small fist.
“Oh no,” she hissed, remembering the wooden stake he’d given her. What had he said about it? She banged her head with the heel of her hand. “The heart.” He’d said to aim for a vampire’s heart. But the wood wasn’t imbedded in his chest. She looked past the beam to his ashen face. It was obvious that the wood still affected him.
It would be impossible for her to pull it out. She’d never have the strength. She looked at the beam, pinning him, then she looked up at the sun. Her eyes squinted. There was still half a day left before it would set. If she went for help, it might be too late.
“Trinity.” She crawled back to him, brushing rubble away from his one hand she could get loose. She clasped his hand into her hands, not feeling the normal coolness, but dry heat. What should she do? Steam still rose from his flesh and when she looked closer, she saw the beginnings of blisters. “I’ll go get help,” she exclaimed.
“No,” Trinity’s voice was weak, but clear as he tightened his hand in hers for a moment before it went slack again. “Wait,” he rasped.
Beth looked up and down the road. “Wait for what?” she asked, sounding shrill.
“D-Dark.” His voice was barely a whisper.
“Oh God, Trinity, you will never make it,” she said, brushing hair back from his blistering temple.
His eyes opened for one second, blazing at her. “I will.” His voice was forced out, and then his eyelids drooped.
She rocked, holding his hand to her chest, trying to think through her distress. Why didn’t he want her to leave and try to find help? At first, she thought it could be because it was dangerous for a woman traveling alone. Panic and worry had dulled her senses when it finally came to her that Trinity didn’t want her to find help from humans because he was a vampire. Anyone looking at him would wonder why he blistered as he did, as though cauldrons of hot water were poured over his skin.
Suddenly, he groaned with a pain-filled retch and his body shuddering through the sound. Tears stabbed her as she kneeled closer. “Why aren’t you healing?” she sobbed. “Why aren’t you stronger?” He was a vampire … he should be stronger than this. Blood. The answer was so simple, so blatant in her mind. It was the knowledge she’d gain with his blood infusing her. Blood would make him stronger.
“You need my blood,” she whispered close to him.
“No!” The word was a sharp groan heaved from him. His head thrashed. “No,” he hissed.
Tears fell from her eyes then. “Please, Trinity, please,” she begged.
Another tremor wracked his body as hissing sounds came from his skin. “God,” she exclaimed, dropping his hand and trying to use her skirts to shield him from the glare of the sun. His flesh was melting and the pain had to be unbearable.
“Enough!” she cried, looking about frantically, and then she saw it, a nail point protruding from a spit of wood beside her. Without forethought, she slashed her wrist across it, crying out in pain that dulled instantly. Her blood welled with life.
A growl erupted from Trinity as his body stiffly jerked and she shoved her bloody wrist against his grimacing lips. “You will take my blood. I give it to you now and forever!” she cried.
Chapter Twenty Nine
The inhuman howl that broke the confines of the dank, subterranean vault tore at Christian’s soul as Adam’s snapping teeth barely missed his left cheek.
“My God, hold him,” Church uttered.
“Jesu, I don’t remember any of us bein
g this strong when we turned,” Baptiste shouted.
“You were,” Church assured them.
Christian grappled with Adam’s upper shoulders, trying to lock him down from behind, while his brothers struggled with the rest of his body. He knew what agony Adam was going through, and it broke his heart.
“Give him some of your blood,” Church ordered harshly as they dragged Adam’s body to the ground between them.
Adam’s tall frame thrashed with body-breaking spasms as though his bones were breaking and realigning. Christian thrust his wrist over Adam’s chunky, gnashing canines.
“Bloody hell,” Christian hissed as Adam dug into his flesh. He deserved the pain though and after the first bite, he took it stoically.
“We’re going to have to restrain him, provide him blood, and clean up that slaughter upstairs,” Church said tightly, although they all eased up holding Adam down as he fed.
Christian watched Adam’s eyes, which showed only the whites, turn down slowly, revealing black irises as he unconsciously fed. It would be several days before his consciousness asserted itself into the animalistic savage he would be that all new vampires were for months, even years after turning.
Adam would never willingly give up taking blood at this stage so Christian tore his wrist away, tearing the flesh. He welcomed the sharp pain as his due and he watched Adam settle more calmly. It would only last for a little while. He licked his wrist, healing the jagged edges closed.
Christian looked up at Church pacing within the dark and dank confines of the cellar. As soon as Adam had calmed, Baptiste had gone upstairs to clean away the vampiric carnage. As vampires, they couldn’t leave such a display for humans to become terror-crazed over. Baptiste had informed them there were only two other residents at the mansion, an elder butler and older gentleman who appeared to be the lord of the mansion. Baptiste had wiped both men’s memories of his presence and put them into a deep sleep that wouldn’t leave them for several hours. Tools of the trade, when one’s prey was human.
“This is Lady Beth’s brother,” Church asserted, stopping short in his pacing. Christian held Adam’s jerking body as he sat on the ground.
He nodded to Church as his mind raced. Adam would need a benefactor … more like a guard to keep him from the foul actions of being a new vampire. Christian prayed silently, his lips moving with the plea to do the just thing. If it were he, and he’d had the choice in the beginning, he would have begged someone to cage him until he could get his new predatory side under control. He smoothed his fingers over Adam’s cold temple.
“He’ll need blood,” Church gravely muttered the pressing need again.
“I had to,” Christian exclaimed with beseeching tones. “He was gone and I simply h-had too.”
Church uttered an oath, and then he was kneeling beside him. “Brother, you did the right thing.” Christian leaned into Church’s one arm embrace. “This man was innocent; whatever foul thing happened upstairs, this …”
“Adam,” Christian supplied.
“Adam,” Church continued on, “was caught in the middle of the horror.” Christian rested against Church for support; it went against everything he believed for him to make Adam a vampire. “Damn it, Christian, you saved him,” Church uttered.
Adam gurgled in Christian’s lap with his oversized fangs gnashing. Christian tightened his grip on Adam’s twitching body as they both looked down at him. “I will watch over him. I won’t forsake him again,” Christian muttered.
Soft noises of the air shifting lifted both their heads. They’d heard the sound many times. Baptiste’s form took shape in front of them. “It’s Cull,” he hissed. Church stood as Christian clutched Adam tighter, wondering how Cull could be in Adam’s residence. Did Adam know Cull? Was Cull the vampire that had sucked him dry? That made no sense if Cull was dead.
“The body on the stairs?” Church’s brows slashed, looking dangerous as he looked between them.
“Aye, I found the head down the hall, and I smell another vampire’s blood in all the mess, but it’s a weak scent, when it should be stronger.” Baptiste’s mustache drew down with his frown.
“This is Lady Beth and Lord Adam’s residence,” Christian said, disbelieving these things could be happening here in their home to two innocent humans.
Church raked a hand through his snow-white hair, grimacing with dark shadings in his eyes. “We need to find out what this is about.” He paused as though thinking. “Trinity needs to know about this. It feels like an indirect threat to Lady Beth, although I’m blasted if I can figure out how.”
“Aye, Trinity, definitely,” Baptiste agreed.
“Yes, he needs to know,” Christian said. “I know he can feel some of it, and if it wasn’t for Lady Beth, I’m certain he’d be here already.”
“Hell,” Church cussed. “I’ve got the damn ball starting tomorrow evening.”
Baptiste’s hand clasped Church’s shoulder. “You leave and attend to it. It’s not something we can just let go. Christian and I will manage.”
“I’m taking him to my church.” Christian had decided earlier. “I’ll look after him in the tombs below.”
Church started to argue, then he cursed again, “Damnation, you can’t take him to the mansion tonight with preparations for the ball making everything mayhem there.” He looked worried.
“This is my responsibility,” Christian asserted, then added in a voice he was glad didn’t waver, “I’m a sire now.”
“I’ll help him, Church.” Baptiste looked between them.
Church left reluctantly, moments later, while Adam jerked hard in Christian’s hold. Adam’s eyes opened with only the whites showing. His breath hissed and if it wasn’t for the cloak wrapped tightly around his arms and body, he would have been harder to contain.
“I’ve got to give him more of my blood.” Christian knew his voice sounded strained.
“Aye, brother, but not too much,” Baptiste warned. It had been decades since any of them had dealt with a new vampire because it went against the self-imposed moral laws they lived by. Christian understood Baptiste was reminding him of little-used facts.
“I won’t.” Christian rubbed his temple. “Once we secure him in the church’s tombs, I will bring him animal blood.”
Baptiste nodded. “Let me finish upstairs, then it should be near dusk and we can take him out of here.”
Baptiste was gone from one blink of the eye to the next and Christian turned his gaze down to Adam. “I am so sorry,” he whispered. “You are too good for this.”
Adam moaned as though he’d heard his voice, but Christian knew logically it was too soon. Adam would be little better than an animal for months, until he began to learn how to exert his willpower over savage vampiric urges.
Fanton lurched through the hidden passageway. He’d been clawed in so many places from that damn Cull, his left arm was barely attached. It wasn’t the worst of his injuries; his torn throat was the nasty one. Yet it was healing with Adam’s pure virgin’s blood pumping through him. He’d need more blood soon and plenty of it to heal, but the daylight outside – just the feel of it was sapping his strength along with his injuries.
The only thing that saved him from Cull had been feeding so plentifully and on such pure blood from Adam. He’d never have been able to overpower his Sire without it, but he’d left that lowbred bastard in shreds. Fanton fell against the wall with the old stone crumbling from the impact. No one had known about the hidden passages but him and perhaps his rancid old uncle. Beth and Adam had been clueless, as usual. He’d used them many times to go out into the night from the mansion above. God, what he wouldn’t give to have Beth with him. Her blood would regenerate him, while her fat tits would soothe him.
“Fuck,” he snarled.
His residence was tainted and he didn’t know what to do about it, but the darkness of the passageway slightly eased him. Authorities would arrive soon, wondering what foul thing had occurred in his uncle’s mansion. A
decapitated body inside, blood everywhere, and a dead body outside. He mourned losing sweet-tasting Adam. On the one hand, he was grateful his stepbrother had been there to keep him alive, but on the other, he’d lost another easy source of blood.
“They could think Adam killed Cull.” Personally, he thought it ridiculous, but he worked it over in his mind. “No! They’ll look at me. Fuck, I know they will.”
He pushed away from the wall, knowing he had to make it to the cellar. There were tunnels leading out from there he could follow, and as soon as night fell he could leave the dark tunnels and find the blood he desperately needed.
The closer he came to the hidden cellar door, the more he could smell vampires. All along, he’d thought it was Cull’s body, but then his head cleared for a moment and he knew Cull drank wolfsbane as he did to cover such scents from other vampires. All that black blood smeared upstairs though. No wolfsbane could cover that.
He came to the thick door that would lead him directly into the cellar. It was hidden behind shelves of dusty, old wine bottles. The shelf was cleverly made to hide the concealed passageways’ existence and those shelves would swing outward once he pushed on the heavy door. Voices on the other side made him stop as he became more certain he smelled other vampires. Cull’s men? Panic struck him deep as he backed away from the door, stumbling with weakness as he clutched his torn throat.
Fanton didn’t know if any of Cull’s lowlife brethren knew about him. He was under the impression Cull never let the secret out that he’d sired a nobleman. They could have arrived with him. Waiting outside?
“No, no,” he muttered under his breath, swiping sweat off his brow. If they’d been there they would have come in early, when the fighting started.