He didn’t need to hear her thoughts to know what they would have been as she looked at the vampires surrounding her. No hope, no reprieve, nowhere to run. And she was right.
That blistering rage cascaded through Mencheres again, demanding another solution aside from violating Kira’s mortality. But he knew what the only other solution was, and it could condemn his co-ruler for a crime he had no part in.
Mencheres cast a single glare at Radjedef. “Before this, you might have won our war without a battle from me,” he said, again in their long-dead dialect. “But now, I will not go quietly into my grave. Instead, by the blood of Cain, I will drag you down to yours.”
Radjedef gave him a measuring look. “I never wanted you to seek your own end. Why do you think I’ve been following you? After our last conversation, I feared you might kill yourself before you gave me what I wanted. And you will give it to me, Menkaure. Soon.”
Mencheres knew what Radje wanted from him. The Law Guardian’s slip at his house the other week was enough to betray his motivation, yet Mencheres had no intention of allowing him to obtain his goal. He thought of the dark void ahead of him. He had no idea how long he had until it enveloped him, but in that remaining time, he’d discover the means to finish Radjedef. Kira’s mortality would be avenged. Both of them knew this wasn’t a matter of law. The only reason Radjedef had demanded Kira’s death was because he’d sensed it would hurt him.
It had, and Mencheres intended to make sure Radjedef felt the full measure of his pain, and Kira’s, before he was finished. His eyes glowed green, and he pushed his rage back but allowed his power to uncurl. It filled the room, wrapping around each person in it, causing the other vampires to flinch and Radjedef to narrow his gaze. With his power spilling out until it enveloped the entire club, Mencheres was reminding him of the one thing the Law Guardian had always wanted but could never have.
Then he turned away from the sight of his enemy back to Kira. She didn’t speak, didn’t plead, but a single tear rolled down her cheek. Mencheres reached out, catching it before it fell from her proud, strong jawline. As soon as he touched her, Kira’s whole body began to tremble.
“Make . . . make it quick.”
Her voice was no more than a whisper, and she didn’t look at him, but her spine was unbowed. Once again, her courage struck a chord in him. Kira had a warrior’s spirit inside her sleek, feminine frame, for true valor was best revealed when defeat was inevitable.
His hand caressed her cheek, feeling her warmth soak into his fingers. Then he pulled her into his arms, hearing her heart rate triple as his head dipped to her throat.
“Mencheres—”
“Don’t,” he whispered, resting a finger against her lips as he held her in an unbreakable grip. “Don’t tell me if you would prefer to stay in the grave, Kira, for no matter what you say— I am bringing you back .”
Then he buried his fangs in her throat, right into the pulsating large vein that thrummed in unison with her heartbeat. Kira gave a gasping moan, her hands convulsively grasping his shoulders. Mencheres drew his teeth out, allowing a wealth of hot, sweet blood to fill his mouth through those twin punctures.
He swallowed that richness, his fingers moving from Kira’s lips into the thickness of her hair. Then he slid his fangs into her jugular again, deeper this time, sinking them to the hilt. Kira shuddered against him, the toxins from his fangs combined with blood loss making her sway on her feet. His arms tightened around her, holding her body and her tender throat closer to him as he bit her a third time, the three sets of twin punctures sending Kira’s blood shooting into his mouth as fast as he could swallow it.
His entire body began to feel heated, heavier, and humming with the energy he absorbed with every crimson swallow. Despite hating the circumstances, feeling Kira’s blood pour into him, merging them together more thoroughly than any sexual act, caused a heady exhilaration to flare through Mencheres. She would never be closer to anyone than she was to him in this moment, overflowing him with the life force that drained out of her, stitching them together with a bond that could never be undone.
When Kira hung limply in his arms, her heartbeat silent except for a few stubborn, intermittent flutters, Mencheres pulled away from her throat at last. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, those full red lips now palest pink without any breath stirring them.
Her penalty of death, paid. Now, to usher her into a new life.
Mencheres tugged Kira’s silver necklace off, wrapping its thin chain around his fingers. Then he dug the long end of the cross into his neck, ripping it open. Held Kira’s slack head to the wound and willed his blood out of him and into her. The silver burned his flesh, healing slower than a wound from any other material, as Kira’s mouth filled with his— their —blood.
He could feel her body react to the blood even though not a muscle moved at first. Mencheres tilted her head back, sending that blood down her throat and deeper into her body. He dug her cross into his neck again, ripping another hole, willing more of their conjoined blood along with his power into her. This time, he didn’t need to assist Kira to swallow his blood; her throat worked even as her heart fell silent for the last time.
Mencheres cradled her next to his neck, stroking her hair as he felt Kira’s teeth bite down into the same spot he’d torn open with her cross. A sharp sting later, and she’d broken his skin, the life and power in his blood instinctively calling to her. She fastened her teeth harder into him and began to suck while great, wracking shudders enveloped her body.
He let his necklace-wrapped hand fall from his throat, using it to support Kira as he lowered both of them to the floor. None of the other vampires spoke as Mencheres sat with her in his arms, willing more of his blood into her while she tore and chewed at his throat with an ever-increasing hunger. The slight pain felt wonderful, because in each desperate swallow, Kira absorbed life from him just as he had from her. It was a darker way of life, yes, but a stronger one than the mortality that had slipped away with the fading of her heartbeat.
Live, Kira. Live.
When she swallowed more than the blood Mencheres had drained from her, he pulled her away, flexing his power to hold her when she would have fought to return to his throat. Her eyes were open but sightless, flashing with a darker, brighter shade of green, and two fangs curved out from Kira’s previously flat upper teeth.
“Rest now,” Mencheres whispered, holding her still.
A last shudder tore through her, then her eyes rolled back, and she slumped against him, her humanity murdered, her new vampire body unconscious but soon to rise.
Chapter 15
Kira was trapped in a roaring inferno. She could hear the booming crashes of her apartment building collapsing around her, feel the agony of the flames as they ravaged her body, and she prayed for death to end the pain. And then death came, washing over her burned, broken body with sweet relief, easing the torment that seared her from the inside out. Cool, languid nothingness enveloped her, cocooning her from the fire that still raged around her.
She had to be dead, because the pain was gone, but oddly enough, Kira could still hear the crashing of her building and smell the fumes from the fire. What a strange thing, for her to so acutely hear and smell even though she was dead. Furthermore, she also could taste something incredible. Something so rich and succulent, it made even the sounds and smells fade into obscurity. She needed more of that, whatever it was. Yes. More . . .
Then that amazing nectar was gone, and lights smashed over Kira’s gaze. The roaring of the collapsing building was back along with the choking fumes of gas that must have started the blaze, but something else was here, too. Kira whimpered. She must not be dead yet. Not yet, so any second, she’d feel the horror of her flesh being burned off her body again . . .
“Kira. ”
Her name was an anchor that dragged her mind forward into reality. Suddenly, she saw Mencheres’s face right in front of her, his eyes like black diamonds and his skin
as perfect as colored crystal. She wasn’t trapped in an apartment blaze. Something else had happened.
Mencheres . He had killed her . . . and brought her back.
That booming went off behind her again, the scent of gas rising above the darker, sweeter smell that was all around her. Kira tried to run from whatever had made such a horrible blasting sound, but Mencheres pressed her down. A jolt went through her as soon as his hands touched her skin. It felt like his entire body was electrified and shooting currents right into her.
“It is just the plane’s engines, Kira. You are in no danger.”
That blasting went off again, so loud and grinding, it couldn’t be airplane engines. Kira looked around, but everything slid together in a blur until Mencheres grasped her chin and forced her to look only at him.
“Stay still. You have not adjusted to your new senses yet. They will feel overwhelming, but you will soon become accustomed to them.”
Your new senses. Amidst the sizzling voltage that seared into her from Mencheres’s hands, the crashing sounds around her, that oily-potent mixture of scents, and the flashes of light that seemed to burn her eyes, Kira’s mind was seized with one single, unbelievable thought: She was no longer human.
“I’m . . . you . . . I’m not . . .”
She couldn’t say it out loud. Shock blasted through her when she realized that though she’d used air to speak, she wasn’t breathing. Almost blindly, her hand reached out to feel her neck. Nothing but smooth stillness beneath her fingers where her pulse should have been.
I’m a vampire.
Mencheres said nothing, his hand still cupping her face. Only then did her vision quit sliding enough to notice the rest of him. He was still wearing the same shirt from when she’d last seen him, but now, it had large red splotches on the front of it.
Was that her blood? And Radje . . . was the evil, smirking vampire who’d ordered her murder here, too? Kira’s gaze swung around, but once again, everything started to blur together.
“Something’s wrong with my eyes . . . who else is here?” she asked, panic starting to rise.
“No one but I, Gorgon, and the pilot are on this plane. As I said, you are safe.”
Safe? Kira fought back a hysterical laugh. She supposed she was safe since she was already dead .
Mencheres sat in front of her, his dark gaze somber, one hand on her shoulder while the other cupped her face. She blinked, noting that he looked more—vivid. The striking planes of his face were more sharply defined, highlights of rust made Mencheres’s hair a richer shade of black, his eyes were tinted with the faintest flecks of silver, and his skin . . . his skin was like sand in the sunshine, a gold-and-cream mixture that felt electrified with the power sparking from him.
More than beautiful—magnificent. Mencheres, her killer. Her savior. It was too much for Kira to process.
“Don’t touch me,” she whispered, looking away.
His hands dropped. A sense of regret slivered along her emotions, gone so fast, Kira wasn’t sure if she felt it or if it had been a hallucination, like the apartment inferno had.
That blasting kept going off all around them. She glanced to the side, things swinging less in her vision this time, to see that they were indeed on a small plane. A glance down revealed that Mencheres wasn’t the only one with red splashed on the front of him. This wasn’t the outfit she’d, ah, died in, but it was still covered in something purplish that smelled like liquid cotton candy.
Kira sniffed without thinking about it, her nose almost exploding at the rush of scents, too many to distinguish. Above all was the heady, addictive aroma coming from the red stains on her shirt. She’d grasped it and stuffed the material in her mouth before her next coherent thought, whimpering at the intense pain that flared through her chest.
Then something wonderful poured down her throat. Rich, intoxicating, vibrant, necessary, it cooled that instant flash of agony, soothing her from the inside out. She hadn’t even been aware of closing her eyes until a smash of light and motion replaced the momentary peaceful blankness of her vision.
“What is wrong with me?” Kira managed to ask, trying to stop the crazy tilting when she glanced around.
Mencheres’s features swam before they crystallized in the next moment. He was above her, his hair falling down around him in a dark curtain. If she was right, the hard, shaking flatness at her back was the plane’s floor. Had she fallen down? She didn’t remember doing that. Something wet coated her face and her mouth. Unable to stop herself, Kira licked it. A shudder of pleasure rippled through her, almost as intense as an orgasm. What was that?
“You are in the midst of the blood craze.” His voice caressed her ears, making her shudder again. The sounds, sights, scents, tastes, textures . . . it was all too much. She felt like she was about to explode right out of her skin.
“It will lessen,” Mencheres continued. Kira found herself arching toward his voice, as if it could physically touch her with the same effect that it stroked along her senses. “Until then, I cannot let you free. You would kill, Kira, and you would regret it.”
“No . . .” she moaned, closing her eyes. This isn’t real. Isn’t real.
More bliss poured down her throat in the next moment, heavier than water, sweeter than syrup. She gulped, her back arching again, seeking to get closer to whatever the source was even though she couldn’t move her hands to grab it.
“I will care for you,” that silken, deep voice promised. “I will see you through this.”
Isn’t real, isn’t real, isn’t real, Kira continued to chant in her mind. Nothing this intense could be real.
And through the exploding sounds of the engines, the vibrations from the floor, that rush of pain and bliss ebbing and cresting within her, the liquid ecstasy streaming down her throat, and the shocks she felt each time Mencheres touched her, she heard his voice again.
“Forgive me .”
M encheres watched Kira’s face as he lay next to her in bed. She hadn’t stirred since dawn. The first rays of sunlight had caused her to fall deeply asleep, as it did to all new vampires. Her sleeping made it easier during their time in the human-laden areas, such as the private airport his plane landed in and the cars alongside him on the drive to his house in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Mencheres had chosen this location with care. His nearest neighbors were at least a mile away in every direction, and Gorgon had attended to the immediate relocation of the humans staying there once they arrived. Fewer sounds, temptations, and restrictions near Kira was best as she dealt with her new condition.
Though it would still be hard on her. Normally, humans who were chosen to become vampires went through an extended period where they imbibed vampire blood in ever-increasing quantities. It gave them a glimpse of what their new hunger, senses, and increased strength would feel like, making the final change less of a shock. Kira had had no such preparation. Everything would be overwhelming to her at first.
And she had not chosen this transition of her own free will. That would be the greatest obstacle for her to overcome. Still, Mencheres knew he could not have acted differently. If it was a choice between Kira’s death or her despising him, he would always choose to be the object of her hatred rather than the instrument of her permanent destruction.
Gravel churning on the driveway announced that Gorgon was back. Mencheres felt a twinge of relief. Kira had drunk almost all the blood bags he’d hastily stolen from a hospital on their way from the strip club to his plane. Animal blood would suffice in desperate circumstances, but he suspected that if Kira roused from her sleep to find herself feeding from a dead deer, she’d harbor even more resentment toward him.
“She awake yet?” Gorgon called out as soon as he entered the house.
“Not yet.” Mencheres glanced at the ebbing rays of the sun straining through the crack in the drapes. She would rise soon. By nightfall at the latest.
Gorgon came into the bedroom carrying a Styrofoam cooler that he set on the floor. “This should
last until dawn. I’ll go back out to get more. Not a lot of hospitals around here, and I’d feel bad if I took their entire supply.”
As would Mencheres, though again, the lengths he’d go to protect Kira superseded his concern for the trouble that might cause some unknown mortals.
“Secure fresh blood as well. Fly in some of my property to nearby hotels if need be.”
“I will.” Gorgon cast a glance at Kira’s sleeping form. Mencheres had bathed and re-dressed her again, covering her with the thick quilt over that. It wasn’t uncommon for new vampires to feel inexplicably cold as they adjusted to their altered body temperature, and even in spring, it was cooler at this higher altitude than it had been in Chicago.
“The Guardian was right. You do feel something unusual for her. When you’re around her, your scent changes, and your shielding slips more than I’ve ever seen it do,” Gorgon said quietly.
Mencheres pulled his emotions back inside the wall that cut off the other vampire’s ability to sense them. “After what I’ve done to her, I would think it matters not.”
“You had no choice. Once Kira accepts that and adjusts to being a vampire, she’ll stop being angry at you.” Then Gorgon smiled. “Though it might be fun to watch in the meantime. You’ve never had to work to seduce a woman before, have you?”
In fact, Mencheres had not previously needed to entice a woman into his bed with sweetened words or passionate pursuit. “Even if I had, considering my long state of celibacy, it would make me very out of practice, to use a contemporary phrase,” he noted dryly.
Gorgon laughed. “Like riding a bike, some things you never forget.”
Mencheres wished the only obstacle between him and Kira was the challenge of winning her. If that were so, he would relish the opportunity to gain her trust, affection, body, and—gods willing—her heart. But once again, that black void in his future was the true obstacle.
“I have larger concerns at present,” was all Mencheres said.
Gorgon’s smile faded. “Radjedef.”
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