Eternal 3: Eternal Surrender

by Ann Lory

  “Damian, please forgive me. I love you so. I tell you, I don’t know why I do the things I do.” She clung to his arm.

  He stared down at her, anguished. She was his sister, but how could they have possibly come from the same womb? She hurt people for sport, and the cruelty grew worse with every passing year. She’d killed small animals ‑‑ baby birds, squirrels ‑‑ just for fun. She’d stolen things and left the items among the servants’ possessions to be found, which had seemed to thrill her. Damian and his parents had been horrified to learn what she’d done, but no punishment or threats had yet been able to put a halt to her behavior.

  She’d become bolder, more malicious, though their parents had beaten her, locked her in her room, even sent her to a convent, only to have the sisters there send her back, claiming she was evil.

  She should’ve been married and settled already, but she’d purposely arranged for her betrothed to find her in the barn writhing under the stableboy. Umberto had been beaten within an inch of his life by her fiancé, and their father was the only reason the stableboy had not been killed.

  He shook her off. “Stop it, D’Angel. You know I can’t kill you.” She continued to cry. Unable to stand her tears, he pulled her into his arms. “You have to cease tormenting others. What can I do to help you?”

  She shrugged, her shoulders still shaking. “I don’t know, brother. I try to be good, but it seems impossible. Something in me cries out to do these terrible things.”

  Damian pulled away and lifted her chin to stare, studying her eyes. He kissed her forehead. “Go home. I’ll take care of everything here. I’ll make sure the family is well compensated for their suffering.”

  “You won’t tell Mama and Papa, will you?”

  Damian sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Finally, he shook his head. Her smile was brilliant.

  “Thank you, Damian. Thank you for always taking care of me.” She ran home. Damian made his way back toward the village without bothering with his horse. He needed the time to think. His coin purse was heavy in his pocket, his sorrow no less heavy in his chest. When would she stop? How many secrets had he kept for her? How many lies had he told his parents to spare her? And how long could he continue to aid and abet her like this? He couldn’t remember or keep track of what she’d done anymore.

  He made his way across a field, when he heard Roberto shout his name. Damian halted as Roberto and Vincente caught up with him.

  “Where are you off to?” Roberto asked.

  “I’m going to see Antonio.”

  Roberto grinned. “Ah, would you be making a call on his sweet daughter Luisa? I’d like a tumble with her.”

  “Cease thinking with your cock, Roberto,” Damian snapped. Normally, he would’ve had a comment or two as Luisa was an exquisite young woman ‑‑ one of the reasons D’Angel tortured the servant so ‑‑ but given that the girl had been unjustifiably punished, he was in no mood for his friend’s words.

  Vincente slapped him on the back. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about what you could do to her. I’ve seen you watching her. Maybe we could all give her a poke.”

  Roberto laughed. “Too bad her father knows what we’re about. He’s watchful over her, when he should remember his place and know that a girl who looks like that should always be on her back.”

  Vincente howled. Damian glared at both of them.

  “Go away. I must clean up after another of my sister’s messes.”

  Roberto drew in close, throwing his arm around Damian’s shoulder, or attempted to. He was shorter than Damian, especially when Damian was stiff with affront. “Speaking of your sister, where is the fair maiden?”

  Damian narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

  Roberto raised his hands innocently. “No reason. She’s more beautiful than Luisa, and what man wouldn’t want to see true beauty?”

  Vincente agreed. “Yes, she is. Damian, I’ve been thinking of asking your father’s permission to court D’Angel. What would you think of me as your brother-in-law?”

  “I think you’re asking for trouble and should stay clear of my sister.”

  Roberto had stopped walking and now stared at Vincente. “You didn’t tell me you were planning to court D’Angel. I had planned to speak to her father ever since her engagement ended to that pompous ass from the north and he left in a huff.”

  Damian continued his journey, leaving the two men, who’d fallen into a serious conversation that ended with fists flying and curses ringing around them. He shook his head. They’d have to learn the hard way of the terrible side his sister’s countenance hid. No doubt because she was beautiful they’d refused to believe him or the rumors that long circulated about her.

  At last he arrived at the cottage of the woman who’d taken his sister’s punishment. The soft sound of sobs were audible through the door. He knocked.

  The young woman’s father stood in the entrance with fear in his eyes.

  “Buongiorno, Antonio. How is Luisa?” The man opened the door further and Damian winced when he saw Luisa’s back covered with rags, blood staining through the cloth. The sight made him livid again, and he knew more than ever that something had to be done about D’Angel. Maybe tying her to the post and whipping her until she bled would work where all else had failed.

  He reached into his pocket. “I heard about what happened; I know Luisa would never steal anything.” He handed a pouch of gold to Antonio. “This can’t alleviate your daughter’s pain, but perhaps it can buy medicine to help her, and there’s enough for you to save should you need it in the future.”

  Antonio nodded. “Grazie, signore.” The man gave Damian a hard stare. “Why do you help us?”

  Damian looked at Luisa from the doorway, her dark hair tangled, her eyes swollen red with tears. “Luisa has always been kind and works hard for our family. It is the least we could do to help you both.”

  Antonio nodded, but his eyes were suspicious. He seemed unsure of accepting the gold. “Your sister…”

  Damian’s gaze slashed back to him, and the man immediately lowered his head. “Forgive me, signore.”

  Damian spun on his heel and left quickly, back toward the palazzo. His strides were rapid and angry. Upon entering his home, he searched for his sister but could not find her.

  “Carmen, where is D’Angel?”

  The serving woman shook her head. “I do not know, signore. I’ve not seen her this evening, and your parents are worried about the late hour.”

  Damian went to meet his parents. “I’m sorry, I’m late, Mama, Papa.” He kissed his mother’s cheek, and she patted his hand tenderly.

  “It is not you we worry over, Damian. You are a good boy. Your sister, on the other hand…” She sighed heavily. “D’Angel has not returned, and we fear for her as usual.”

  Damian sat in a chair opposite his parents. His father remained silent, staring into the glowing embers in the hearth. Damian picked up a book he’d been reading, and his mother continued her sewing. The hours ticked by slowly. His mother grew so distraught that neither Damian nor his father could comfort her.

  Finally, in the darkest hours of the morning, a knock sounded at the main door. A servant rushed toward it, but Damian’s father stopped him and answered the door himself. He faced the guards who stood before him. “Do you have news of my daughter?”

  One of the men cleared his throat and stepped forward with a torn, red-stained dress. A priest behind him held the good book in his hands, his features drawn.

  “We fear she is dead, Signore Salvatorio. This was all we could find of your daughter. It was in the forest, and there were tracks around the dress. We think it was wolves, signore, but we cannot be completely sure.”

  Damian caught his mother to him, her wails ringing through the halls. His father’s expression was blank as he took the ragged dress, but his face was a pale, deathly white. He said nothing to the men, but allowed the priest to enter.

  Damian felt tears in his own eyes, but at the s
ame time he felt a great relief. Guilt assailed him as he walked his weeping mother back her seat, followed by his father and the priest.

  Twelve years later…

  Damian cursed as his mother wrung her hands around the rosary. She repeated her prayer over each bead, then kissed the crucifix.

  “I saw her again. She haunts me, Damian. Your sister.”

  “Mama, D’Angel is dead. Please do not let your fear or guilt plague you.”

  With his sister gone, his parents’ lives should have been more peaceful. They should’ve enjoyed the years that remained to them. Instead, his mama was prone to fits and starts, and his papa, once so proud and strong, shivered under a blanket, his features pale and sickly.

  “She haunts us, Damian. Your sister is il diavolo.”

  His mother continued where his father left off. “Sometimes I see her dancing in the fields, calling to me.”

  Damian tried to rein in his impatience. “You both need to let her go.”

  “Shh…” His mother’s arms flapped at him. “She’ll hear you and torture you as well.”

  Damian rose, unable to listen to his parents any longer. “I am here for only a short time, and then I will return to Rome.” Normally, he would have lived with his parents until he married, but after his sister’s death, he’d left home and stayed in a villa close to Rome. He kissed both their cheeks. “I will retire now and breakfast with you in the morning.”

  He went to his old chambers. The servants had lit candles for him, and the bed was turned down. He didn’t bother removing his clothes; he was exhausted from dealing with his parents’ fears and only wanted to sleep. Extinguishing the candles, he fell back onto the bed.

  He lay there for a moment, thinking. The world seemed to be going mad around him. His parents were slowly going insane and he didn’t know how to help them. And recently, his old friends had disappeared, believed dead. Poor Roberto and Vincente. He wished them peace.

  Finally, he drifted asleep. He didn’t know how long he’d slept, but the house was quiet, and moonlight spilled into his room. He sat up. What had woken him?

  He gazed around the room but could see nothing out of place. Still, something was in the air. He sensed it. Then he heard the sound of laughter from outside and rose from the bed. He gazed out the window over the fields, then gaped. A dark-haired woman danced under the moon and called to him.

  His gut twisted. Could it be?

  Hurrying from the room, Damian was determined to end this terrible prank. He ran toward the figure, stopping short when his sister turned to face him.

  Damian felt the air seize in his lungs with his shock, and he fell to his knees.

  She smiled and approached him; her feet barely seemed to touch the ground.

  Damian finally managed to breathe. “Where have you been?”

  She shook her head, her grin widening. “Oh, my sweet brother.” She kissed his forehead. Tilting his head back, she ran her hands through his hair. “Have you missed me?”

  He swallowed with great difficulty. “How…how is this possible?”

  “There is much you don’t know about the world, and I’m here to show you. I miss you by my side. You were always there for me, and you are the only one I trust to keep me safe.”

  He pulled away from her, grabbing her wrists. “What do you mean? What have you done? Have you been tormenting our parents?”

  She grinned slyly, and this time, he saw fangs protrude from her lips. He shifted, prepared to rise, but incredibly, D’Angel grasped his arms, jerking him to her, holding him immobile. He tried to fight, but she was too strong.

  “What are you doing?”

  She licked her lips. “Sharing a gift, brother.” She lowered her face toward his neck. He struggled, unable to believe his suspicions, but it was like trying to break free of iron.

  “Please, D’Angel. I do not want this.”

  Her face was mere inches from his now. It was then he noticed they were black as pitch and not the bright blue he remembered. “Shh…” she said, as if soothing a child. “You cannot refuse me, Damian. I need you at my side.” Then she lowered her head the rest of the way. Damian flinched when he felt her breath on his neck, then cried out when her fangs sank deep.

  He yanked at her hair, wrenched at her head, but she was immovable, continuing to drink from him until he was nearly unconscious, and she was the only thing holding him up. He felt cold, so very cold, his body heavy and lethargic. He could barely keep his eyes open, the sweet invitation of death calling to him.

  D’Angel came down beside him and lowered a bleeding wrist to his lips. Damian would never know where he got the strength, but he turned his head from her and tried in vain to crawl away.

  She clicked her tongue against her teeth. How he’d always hated it when she did that, he thought inconsequentially. “Where do you think to go, Damian? Only hell awaits ‑‑ or the life I give you.”

  He stared up at her, her lips stained with his blood. “No.” His voice was hoarse, almost soundless.

  She seized him with her gaze. “Oh, yes.”

  Then everything fell away, and the next thing he knew, his mouth was full of a coppery flavor that somehow tasted sweet. He glared balefully at her when he felt strength begin to surge back into his limbs.

  She smirked. “You know I always get my way, Damian.”

  Then pain gripped him in its unrelenting claws and dug deep…

  Alyssa slowly withdrew from Damian’s mind the way Christian had instructed her and wiped the tears from her eyes. She’d known Damian had been turned against his will, but seeing him trying to crawl away from D’Angel with the precious moments he had left of his life had been harrowing. She covered her face with her hands.

  “Oh, my God. I could kill her for what she did to him alone.” She stood and paced back and forth in the main room where Christian watched her.

  “I wanted you to see, Alyssa. I tried not to eavesdrop, but I heard you both outside. I had such high hopes, but you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. You needed to share his thoughts, his memories.”

  She plopped down in her chair again and studied him. “I ache at the thought of a life without Damian, but it also terrifies me to think of a life with him. Wouldn’t my family hate me for being with him?”

  “Your family is dead, Alyssa. And Damian is not the enemy. Not your enemy. He didn’t take your family from you; D’Angel did that. Damian has saved you already in more ways than one; he can be your family and you, his. You need each other, and the fact that he can see that gives me hope for his future. And mine.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I need that hope as much as he does, Alyssa. I need something to cling to.”

  She winced at the despair she saw in his eyes.

  Christian sat back in his chair, his expression void of emotion. His voice broke the silence. “Like Damian, I fell in love with a mortal. She wanted me to turn her, but I refused. I planned on living out her days with her, and then, when she was laid to rest, I’d seek the sun. But I was foolish not to bring her over. A man I trusted killed her.” His fist clenched on the arm of the chair, Christian’s face was intense as he stared at her. “Maybe if she’d been vampire she would have survived what he did, but…” He closed his eyes for a moment as if he were reliving it all again. Then his lashes swept up, revealing his dark eyes. “I’ve been searching for him for years.”

  Christian glanced toward the door, then rose. “Damian is returning. I’m not telling you to love him, Alyssa, if you don’t, but I’m asking you to trust in his love and yours, if you do.”

  He moved toward the entrance, and she heard him briefly greet Damian. Then silence. Alyssa waited for Damian. When he entered and saw her, his shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly.

  “Alyssa.”

  She rushed to him, flinging her arms around his neck. “Damian! I do love you. I’m so sorry I hurt you.” He crushed her to him, but she couldn’t stop talking. “I’m scared. And confused. I never would’ve thought I could
feel this way, but you…Vampires killed my family. I thought ‑‑”

  His lips cut off the torrent of words. She groaned, allowed him to lead her to their room, where they both hastily scrambled from their clothes and tumbled onto the bed.

  “For your sake, I’m sorry you had to find this with me.”

  She grabbed his face between her hands. “I’m not,” she whispered, and meant it.

  There was a flicker of a smile; then his body covered hers. It was clear he couldn’t wait; she gasped, grasping the sheets in her fists as he drove into her, filling her to the core. She was just as impatient and clutched his hair, yanking on the dark strands so she could lick up the line of his throat and place kisses on the exact spot D’Angel had so cruelly torn into.

  He thrust in and out, each penetration deep and swift and delicious. She writhed, bucking against him, with him ‑‑ and cried out when a jolt of sheer ecstasy ripped through her. She thought saw stars; they seemed to twinkle through and around Damian. She said his name softly, tenderly.

  Soon, he was convulsing above her, his seed spurting in a heated flow into her. She wanted every drop, her inner muscles spasming around him, pulling the semen from him until there was nothing left for him to give.

  He collapsed above her. She twined her legs with his, her arms tightly circling him.

  He kissed her neck and she shivered, felt him hardening inside her again. “You can’t be serious.”

  He leaned up on his elbows. “Oh, yes. I’ve got centuries of loving to catch up on, Alyssa, and I’m going to spend them loving you.”

  She liked the sound of that.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Damian won’t let her out of his sight, or else she’s inside that man’s house. If we involve Mason, you know the others will come. Damian, at least, stands alone. You know just as well as I do that it’s unusual for him to go to Mason or anyone.”