“Wait,” Lucian said, but the warlock ignored him.
“Evoco … infensus … simulacrum … diabolus …”
The shape expanded and began to solidify. The smell of sulfur stung the air as the beast, ripped from the bowels of its dimension, answered its master’s call. Lucian gritted his teeth, his lips curled back in panic.
“I said wait! The vampires have Le Sang Noir … what your people call the Cruentus Curse.” The warlock froze mid-incantation, the spectral demon shape remaining indistinct and cloudy. Its smell was still rank, but there was no further solidification. The warlock frowned as he tried to maintain the summoning while at the same time trying to focus on Lucian.
“What did you say?” he said in a hiss.
“You heard me, warlock.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, as if assessing his words for truth. “What of it?”
“They have it in their possession. Le Sang Noir … the ultimate weapon against us all. You think a war between the vampires and the clans will help your position? Once they are done with the clans, they will do the same to everyone who stands in their path, including you. You have already lost!” Lucian’s voice was a desperate growl.
“You talk of something you know nothing about, vampire.”
“Don’t I?” Lucian laughed in the warlock’s face. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. The witch’s blood is black, it smells like your heart’s deepest desires, and it is wielded by the descendant of the Duchess of Lancaster, who looks very much like her, I must say.”
“You’ve seen it? You’ve seen her?” The warlock’s sharp whisper was disbelieving. His eyes narrowed. “But yet you live to tell the tale?”
Lucian scowled. “She was too busy killing other warlocks to attack me, one by the name of Gabriel. If you kill me now, you will lose a potential ally in your cause.” The warlock’s face remained impassive as he considered Lucian’s offer. The shape beside him writhed as if caught in between dimensions.
“You want to align with us? Why should I trust a word you say? You are a vampire and bound to your own kind.”
“Not if my own kind has turned against me,” Lucian said. “I want to be on the side that wins. If that means you, then yes, I will join you.”
“And the Cruentus Curse?”
“I can point you in her direction. I know where she can be found.”
“And you think that she will allow herself to be taken? If she is who you say she is, then she is more powerful than the clans and the warlocks combined.”
Lucian smiled. “She is, you see, but I know her greatest weakness.”
“Why should we trust you?” the warlock growled.
“Because you have nothing to lose. You are welcome to kill me later if what I say is not true. Take me to the one who leads you.”
A keening sound pierced the air and Lucian realized that it was the half-summoned demon begging to be released, either back to its dimension or into the world it’d been called to. The warlock’s attention sprang back to his task. The cloudy vapor swirled as he negated the final steps of the spell. The shape disappeared. Lucian exhaled slowly, relief flooding him. He kept the arrogant smirk on his face.
“Any tricks and you die,” the warlock warned.
Lucian knew that he was playing a dangerous game, but he’d always had a special gift for understanding what drove people. The lust for power was the same, no matter the species, and it was the one commonality that bound them across worlds. The basis of a plan formed in his head. He’d help the warlocks in return for amnesty and would convince them of his loyalty. He would give dogs his allegiance if it furthered his own cause—he wanted to eliminate the Council and assume the mantle of their leader. Lucian was a brilliant strategist, more so when his life hung in the balance. He’d sought a witch to win over to his side and, instead, he’d found a coven of warlocks who were playing both sides for their own endgame. Their goals were the same.
Only the rules had changed.
And Lucian was, if anything, a master opportunist.
He approached the warlock, his head held high with no fear in his expression or demeanor. The snake hissed at him, but Lucian ignored it. He raised an eyebrow.
“Are we going or not?” he said, his voice dripping with purposeful, barely veiled contempt. Arrogance would be the key to this performance. It implied strength and a disdain for death. Only the weak were afraid and displaying fear would be his downfall.
The warlock’s eyes narrowed, but he grasped Lucian’s shoulder. His smile was not encouraging. “Transeo.”
At the last moment, Lucian felt something materialize at his back and turned instinctively toward the pull. All he saw were two glowing red eyes before he was drawn into the teleportation spell. The distant grumble of a predator deprived of its prey reverberated through the teleportation tunnel and Lucian shook his head. His fear was making him imagine things. The warlock had dismissed the demon he’d summoned.
Despite his bravado, Lucian was afraid—he knew that he was taking an enormous risk, but as far as he could ascertain, the outcome of meeting with the warlocks could only be to his benefit. He had something they desperately wanted and, in return, he would negotiate for immunity from any attack. It was better than anything he could have come up with on his own, short of convincing Victoria to help him, which he knew she’d never do. But she was weak where his brother was concerned … and no one knew that better than Lucian. She’d told him so herself.
Lucian smiled. His dear brother would be his collateral.
TEN
In Times of Love and War
Christian stared at the young woman sitting across from him at the table. Victoria looked poised and beautiful as if she had come into herself these past few weeks. Her skin glowed with vitality, her eyes bright. Her newfound confidence made the blood in his veins surge in response. Seeing her alone had been long overdue. He missed not having her at the château, not feeling her curled up beside him on the sofa, not hearing her laugh in that dreary old house. It was empty without her.
He’d known that it would have come down to this—that the Witch Clans never would have agreed to teach her if she had remained with him. And so he’d agreed to let her go, but Christian had felt a warning deep in his bones from the start. They didn’t want him in her life. He was a threat and his presence made her unpredictable. As a pair, they were even more unpredictable—a sentiment expressed by both sides.
“So,” he said over the rim of his wineglass. “How is training?”
“Good,” she said with a smile that lit up her whole face. “The school term starts in a few weeks and I’m rapidly catching up to where I need to be.”
“That’s good. Do you like Pan as a mentor?”
“He’s great. Doesn’t treat me as if I’m some kind of freak or second coming. I like him a lot, actually. We’ve been sparring quite a bit lately, and it feels like I’m starting to get a better hold on my magic.” She paused, meeting his eyes. “The blood part, I mean.”
“I’m glad,” he said softly. “I’ve missed you, Tori.”
She blushed, the heat suffusing her face. “I miss you, too.”
“Do you?” The two words slipped out before he could help himself, and he regretted it the instant they did. He wished he’d just nodded instead and focused on the goddamned weather or some other mundane safe topic. But they’d been apart too long and the span of time had been ripe ground for insecurities to flourish on both sides. His, particularly.
Her eyes narrowed at him. “What do you mean? Of course I do. Do you think I like going home to Aliya’s?”
“It occurred to me.”
She stopped eating and stared at him, a host of emotions flying across her expressive face. “How can you think that? This is as hard for me as it is for you, can’t you see? I want to call you every minute of the day, and when I can’t reach you, it tortures me to think of where you are … and who you’re with.”
&nbs
p; Christian could see the vulnerability in her eyes. “I’m part of the Council, Tori, and most of my time lately has been spent there. You know that.”
“But so is she.” Christian didn’t have to guess to know to whom she was referring. “Are you with her? With Lena?” Her voice choked on the last word as her eyes fell to her plate.
He frowned, genuinely surprised at the question. “Why would I be with her? She’s with Lucian. Tori, you know that that is over. We’ve been through this.”
“Sure, we have. You’re only her maker—an age old connection that transcends all other bonds.” She eyed him. “I’ve learned a little more about what that means.”
“And what do you think that is?” he asked evenly.
“That you are forever linked.”
“Which does not mean that I am with her. Lena has made her choice, and I have made mine. We are both at peace with what that is.” Christian felt strange as the words left his mouth because he realized that they weren’t true. At their last meeting, Lena had made it more than clear that she would always be open to a dalliance with him, but Christian was not interested, not even to take the edge off his loneliness.
Victoria was watching him closely and he kept his face expressionless. She resumed eating, her voice nonchalant. “You must take me for a fool, Christian. Call it whatever you will, woman’s intuition, but that vampire is in love with you. Always has been and always will be. When she snaps her fingers, you go running.”
“I do not return her feelings,” he said. “And that’s hardly fair.”
“She called when I was still at the château, remember? She wanted to talk to you about something and you left so it had to have been important. When she needs you, you go.”
“She wanted to talk about Lucian. The Council is bringing him up on charges and they asked for my help. That is all. Tori, what is this really about? You’ve been cagey all night and now you’re picking for a fight. Why don’t you tell me the truth and come out and say what’s wrong?”
Victoria set down her fork and stared him right in the eye. “Maybe everyone is right about us. About us being from two different worlds and all. Maybe it will be better if we … have some space.”
Christian felt his whole world transform into one made of fragile glass. He hadn’t expected this, not so soon. It’d barely been a few weeks and they’d already succeeded in driving a wedge between them. “Is that what you feel or what you’re being told to feel?”
She swallowed, a rush of tears welling in her eyes. “No, of course not. But it seems like you’re keeping secrets from me and we swore never to do that. You always said that you would be honest with me, no matter how hard the truth was to hear.”
“So did you. You accuse me of something and yet you do the same. We haven’t spoken in days and you lay the blame at my doorstep. It goes both ways, my love.”
She eyed him and swallowed hard, pain flashing through them for a moment before it was eclipsed by something else. He frowned as she wiped her mouth with her napkin and drained the contents of her glass. “I want to leave.”
With a sinking feeling, Christian signaled to the waiter for the check. The owner of the restaurant brought over the bill personally, exchanging pleasantries while the hostess retrieved their coats. He escorted Victoria into the waiting car and slid into the driver’s seat. The silence between them was charged.
“Do you wish to return to Aliya’s?” he asked politely.
“Don’t do that with me,” she blurted out. “Take that bland aristocratic tone and pretend that I’m one of your servants from the nineteenth century. You are not a duke anymore, Christian, and this is the twenty-first century. Talk to me, please.”
“You seem to have made up your mind. What else is there to say?” He shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot. “I shall deliver you back to your home.”
“You are so stupid,” she seethed. “My home is with you, not with Aliya. And you should know that and if you don’t, I will have to remind you.” She unbuckled her seatbelt as he took the turn to enter the Champs-Elysées.
“What are you doing?”
“Reminding you,” she said as she climbed over the gear console and settled herself in his lap.
“Victoria,” he said, struggling to concentrate as the backs of her thighs pressed into his, her knees straddling him.
“Drive,” she said into his ear. “Take me home.”
He held his breath as a sudden push of magic pressed the accelerator into the ground and the car sped forward. “You’re going to get us both killed,” he said as she sucked on his earlobe. “Or arrested.”
“You’re immortal and I’m unkillable, so that’s hardly a possibility. As far as being arrested, well, that would be a first.” Her mouth trailed along his jaw and set itself to his, her tongue sweeping inside as if confident of its welcome there. Christian kissed her back, his body responding as only she could incite it to, and fought to focus on the road. But it was a losing battle—he was so starved for her that he could hardly concentrate. The car swerved out of control, veering across the divider into the opposite lane, straight into the path of an oncoming truck.
Christian swore under his breath as Victoria’s mouth tore from his, and her eyes flashed black before the entire car fragmented into pieces. The Champs-Elysées and all its lights disappeared until they were in a vacuum of nothing, the world spinning around them as if they were the center of the universe. Victoria clung to him, her eyes wild with excitement, and glued her mouth to his. His hands left the steering wheel, curving around her hips and drew her closer. She was the one driving now. He closed his eyes and let go as everything winked into silence.
When he opened them, they were parked in front of the château. She still straddled his lap, her face flushed and her eyes diamond bright. “What did you do?” Christian asked.
“I didn’t think you were driving fast enough, so I teleported us.”
He stared at her in incredulous surprise. “You teleported an entire car?”
Victoria’s smile was full of secrets. “I told you I was getting stronger.” She reached over and unlocked the door, sliding over his legs to step out of the car. She hooked an arm over the door and leaned down. “Your turn.”
He moved so quickly that her intake of breath was audible, snatching her into his arms with inhuman speed until they were in the foyer. He couldn’t move his hands fast enough, sliding over her rib cage and back, dragging her closer. Her mouth found his again and he was lost in the pure sensation of her.
“Wait,” he said. “We need to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk,” she insisted. “Everyone talks all the time. All I want to do is feel and remember for myself what it means to be here.” Her hands roved over him, too, cupping his back and sliding provocatively down over his trousers. Christian’s breath caught at the insistent pressure of her fingers. His body leapt to life and she pressed hers along every inch of him as if reveling in the power she had over him.
In the haze that surrounded them, Christian felt that something wasn’t right. “No, Tori. Stop, this isn’t you. This is your blood coercing you to get what it wants.”
Her eyes went wide as she pressed an inch away. “You don’t want me?”
“No, of course I do, but this is moving too fast. I can’t think about controlling myself and we both know that I have to, for both our sakes.”
“I can control it now,” she said. “The blood.”
His eyes narrowed, his hands sliding to hold her shoulders and keep her at arm’s length. “What is it you think you want?”
“You.”
Christian sighed, desire leaping like flame inside of him at the single word and the languid look in her eyes. “We both know that that can’t happen, Tori. Your blood will kill me or possess me.”
Her hand slid around to the front of his pants, her voice a seductive whisper. “Your body doesn’t seem to share your concern
s. Aren’t I worth the risk?”
Christian groaned and pulled her to him. He could have sworn he saw something triumphant flash in her eyes, but he couldn’t be sure. He set his lips to hers, his mouth slanting against hers, coaxing them open. She met him hungrily, arching up against him and clutching the lapels of his coat. His mouth slid to her throat, her pulse flicking beneath her skin like a beacon. He could feel his teeth lengthening and pressing through his upper jaw, and he paused, his hand splaying wide against her back as she arched backward.
In one smooth movement, Christian swept her up into his arms and vanished up the stairs. He sat her on the edge of the bed, watching with hooded eyes as she undid the fastenings on the black silk dress. He knew he was flirting with danger, but he was too far gone to care. She stood, the front of her dress gaping open and displaying tantalizing glimpses of bare flesh draped in black lace. Sliding off his jacket, her fingers made quick work of his buttons. And then his shirt was off, too, as her palms slid hotly against his skin, slipping lower along his ridged abdomen to the band of his pants.
“Tori,” he whispered.
“Shhh,” she told him, drawing him backward to the bed. “I know what I’m doing.”
Her hands reached around behind her back to unclasp the black lace bra as she shrugged out of the dress to her waist. Christian’s breath stalled in his throat at the perfection of her body laid bare before his eyes. Her hands tangled in his hair as she drew him down. His mouth closed over the peak of her breast, making her gasp and throw her head back. Christian’s fingers skipped down her flat stomach, easing the rest of the dress down over her hips until she lay there in nothing but an indecent strip of black panties.
“You are so beautiful,” he said. “Perfect.”
A glimpse of the old Victoria emerged as she blushed furiously and pulled the satin sheet over her. “Are you okay?” she asked him, reaching up with her fingers to trace his lips and pressing them into the tips of his elongated teeth.
He drew back a hair’s breadth, knowing that the slightest pressure of their razor sharp points would draw blood, and nodded, surprised. Normally, by this time he would be rushing into the woods to relieve the hunger that would almost be tearing him apart. But now, all he felt was desire. He felt the hunger, too, but it wasn’t oppressive. He sucked her forefinger into his mouth and watched her eyes flare in response. Her free hand slid to his belt buckle, working it loose as Christian stepped out of his pants and boxers and slid between the sheets.
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