Just what the hell are you planning to do to me, Cleo? Pyre wondered.
His first instinct was to destroy the chair, but then an idea popped into his head. There had to be some way to get her into it instead of himself. The problem was the spell she'd woven. In Cleo's presence, Pyre was as helpless as a baby. She could control his every action, forcing his body to do anything she wanted. He knew the spell well. In fact, he had helped weave it. He knew short of a miracle, there was no breaking it.
'Til death do us part.
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Thirty-three
Pyre's head snapped up as a young woman stumbled through the attic door. Her frantic eyes searched the room and landed on Pyre. He was sitting to the right of the door, in a corner. His knees were drawn up to his chest. He had forced himself to rest, reasoning with himself to keep a calm head.
The woman's panic slammed him in the chest, and Pyre's heart began to race. He would have rushed to her side, but Cleo chose that moment to enter the attic. Her spell pressed in and around him, causing him to remain immobile.
Helpless, Pyre watched Cleo parade the young woman before his eyes. Cleo gently grabbed her hand, and the girl instantly lost some of her skittishness. Using her vampiric charms, she calmed the girl's nerves. Pyre almost wished she'd do the same for him. It seemed his stomach had turned into a thousand little butterflies.
Simply another pesky human ailment.
Cleo turned coffee-colored eyes to him. “It's not her spirit that I want to break, Pyre."
The girl stood quietly beside Cleo, waiting for her command. The only difference between her and Pyre was that the girl would remember nothing.
Cleo held out her hand to Pyre, and he was on his feet before he realized it. His body hurried to place his hand in hers. Cleo's touch was warm and sent old familiar pulses through him. Their sex life had been damn near perfect. It was a shame that their personalities clashed too much for the relationship to work.
Pyre sank into her gaze as visions of her naked floated in his head. Cleo smiled and patted his hand comfortingly. “Don't worry, my love. Pleasure before pain. Always."
The word pain snapped him back, and he blinked, unsure at first of what had just happened. Then he glared at her. “You clouded my mind. How did you do that? Vampires can't cloud each others minds."
Cleo curved her lips into a smug smile. “I have improved your spell, Pyre. Do you like it?” He shook his head, and she pouted. “Oh, well, that's too bad. I was sure you would."
Cleo's lower lip pushed out as she pouted, and Pyre fought the desire to pull her close and suck on that lip. He forced himself to look at his hand, which was still in hers. He willed himself to pull away from her grip, but his body refused. In fact, Pyre yanked Cleo closer and pressed his lips to hers in a crushing kiss.
Pyre placed both hands on her face and placed kisses from her lips to her eyes. Places in his body tightened with an unwanted need, and he rested his cheek against hers. “Don't, Cleo. Please don't do this."
"Part of you still wants me, Pyre. You can't deny that."
"Okay, Cleo. You win. I still find you attractive. I always will."
Cleo laughed and pushed him away from her. “Good show, Pyre. Good show. Just what I wanted to hear. Now, feed."
Cleo pointed at the young woman, and Pyre really noticed her for the first time. She was beautiful, with a heart shaped face and delicate mouth. The clothes she wore screamed of wealth, and as his body closed the distance between them, he wondered who she was.
Pyre pulled the unresisting woman into his arms. The feel of her warm human blood pulsed through his head. The smell of it pulled him in. He hesitated as his lips brushed bare neck. There was a reason that he was not supposed to be doing this, but for the life of him, he could not remember.
"Go ahead, Pyre, feast.” Cleo circled them and stopped behind the woman. She stared into Pyre's brown eyes as his tongue slowly licked along his victim's skin. “You know you want to."
Pyre paused with his teeth touching the woman's skin. The sight of the electric chair behind Cleo snapped him back to his wits. He was careful to keep his mind blank.
"Her blood is a delicacy, Pyre. I tasted it earlier. I only dine from rich blood. It's been cultivated with the finest of foods. You won't taste fast food grease in her veins."
He pressed the tips of his fangs through her skin. Warm blood gushed into his mouth. He knew it was wrong and felt the brunt of it in his soul. Closing his eyes, he moaned softly, drawing Cleo into the illusion.
As it had in the past, the sight of Pyre feeding aroused Cleo, and she stepped close enough to the pair to feel Pyre's breath on her face. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the moment.
When Pyre felt her guard slip, he used the strength from the woman's blood to break through the spell. It would take everything he had and last only a few moments. Pyre slowly raised his head from the woman. Cleo's eyes were closed, but her face held a demonic hunger. She was unaware that he had stopped feeding. With a speed that surprised even himself, Pyre pushed the woman away, letting the momentum slam both her and Cleo across the room.
The fall knocked the woman out cold but only left Cleo dazed and confused. She had hit her chin against the arm of the chair when she twisted her body in an effort to stop her fall. Now she lay slumped over the seat. Blood leaked from the corner of her mouth, and her vision swam. Pain exploded in her head like a breaking windshield in a car.
Pyre forced his way through the spell and across the room. He felt like he was trying to swim through wet cement. His left hand grabbed Cleo by the throat and hauled her to her feet. She was about to lose consciousness.
"I warned you not to make trouble with me,” Pyre growled.
His right hand reached into her mouth and yanked out one of her fangs. She screamed as blood poured from her mouth. Pyre leaned close to her ear. “I remember the spell, darling. I created it.” His face twisted with rage. “And now, I'll break it."
He popped out the other fang like a grape from a vine. Cleo screamed briefly before dusting in his arms. He shook off her ashes.
Should've done that years ago. One unhappy selfish bitch.
The force of the spell melted after Cleo was ushered into Hell. Pyre cradled the young woman in his arms and left without looking back. Cleo had meant to kill him.
All is fair in the game of love.
* * * *
Pyre knew he was dreaming as he knelt in a temple as prayers fell from his lips. The words were directed to a goddess he vaguely remembered. Hekat, the hag, was a wise woman. He couldn't understand why he was summoning her.
A small hand touched his shoulder, and he looked up in surprise. A beautiful black haired nymph stood behind him. She smiled sweetly and turned away. A frog's face with little black eyes stared curiously at him from the back of the woman's head. This was the goddess to which he had been praying to. He frowned in confusion.
"I have many faces, Pyre."
Abruptly, the woman turned, and the face of Isis, his aunt, smiled at him. “The Greeks worship me as Hecate, the Moon Goddess. And yes, I know I look like your aunt, but I am not. Scholars think they know everything."
Her soft laughter echoed through the temple. He now looked upon the face of the first goddess. “To the Celtics, I am as I appear to you now, Cailleach, ruler of the sun and moon, of the sky, of the earth. The weather bears my moods."
Pyre nodded. “You are Mother Earth, and Mistress of shape shifting. Wild animals look to you for protection. The wind is at your command."
The frog looked at him. “You came to me once, a long time past."
Pyre nodded. “For help in seeking revenge against my father."
The lips of the frog curved up in a cruel smile. “Your wish came with a price, did it not?"
Pyre hung his head. “Payment for eternity."
The temple was silent, and Hekat waited patiently as Pyre remembered.
* * * *
The
young immortal hid in the shadows of the hall. His grief for Ambrea was fresh on his face. He had followed his father into the most sacred rooms of the temple. He had to know what his dear father was planning.
Pyre crept to the half opened door and listened to his father plan with Anat to betray Neith, the goddess of war. Somehow, some way, he would disrupt his father's plans of revenge. An idea popped into the youngster's head. He hurried to his room and called upon the goddess, Hekat.
* * * *
The dream was fading. Hekat became Cailleach. She reached out a pale white hand to Pyre. “You must seek the Irish fairy-vampress. A dream is simply a dream. Through her is the sun you seek."
The goddess spun around like a merry-go-round. Many faces from many different cultures flashed at Pyre as the being whirled around. It made him dizzy, and he closed his eyes. When he looked, he was staring into the face of one of his panthers.
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Thirty-four
The red-haired vampire suddenly appeared before Pyre, startling him from his stupor. He yanked at the magic-enhanced chains that held him to the cave wall.
Why is it that being good always attracts so much evil? he asked himself wryly.
The vampress’ emerald eyes and flaming red hair took his breath away. She was quite old but not as old as he. If it weren't for the fact that she was a fairy-vampire and if his powers weren't so low, Pyre knew he could easily best her. The incident with Cleo had tempted him to resume feeding on humans, but his conscience ate at him like a maggot.
Fiannae placed her delicate hand flat against Pyre's naked chest. She secretly admitted to herself that she was attracted to this handsome Egyptian. Her eyes narrowed as she pushed her finger through his flesh. Pyre grimaced and bit back a scream as the wench dug deep into his chest. She gently rubbed the tip of her nail over his heart. Adrenaline raced through him.
Fiannae leaned close to him, pressing her lips to his. “One gentle push, and coma time for you, dear boy."
Pyre's eyes pleaded with her, but he refused to beg out loud. “Aw,” she whispered, “does that scare you?"
"Why don't you let me do it to you, and you tell me?” Pyre growled softly, willing his body to remain still. One wrong move, and he'd be out for a number of days. The heart was the hardest for a vampire to heal. There was no telling what Fiannae would do to him while he was out cold.
Fiannae took a step back. There was a sickening slurpy sound as she quickly pulled her finger out of his chest. Then she stuck her finger in her mouth, seductively licking it clean of blood.
"We can stop this at any time,” Fiannae purred. “Just admit that I win."
"I am not ready to become one of your little trophies, Fiannae."
His eyes looked past her to a ledge in the cave's wall. Hundreds of tiny figures sat frozen on display. They had all once been living, breathing mortals who had lost their bet with Fiannae. Their souls were forever trapped.
"You would be the first vampire in my collection, Pyre.” Fiannae smiled. “You shouldn't have made a bet for something that I cannot give. I have no heart. I am incapable of loving anyone."
"That remains to be seen."
"Do not confuse lust with love, Pyre."
They stared each other down. Neither one willing to give in and look away. Fiannae did what she did best—made a distraction.
"I have seen your vampire,” she whispered. True sadness clung to her voice. “I have felt her pain."
"Then you'll help me?” Pyre held his breath.
Fiannae shook her head. “A bet is a bet, me love. No getting out of it that easily."
Her Irish accent tugged at his own heart. Was she bespelling him? Or was his heart truly falling in love again? Or was it just another story of the captive falling for the captor? He tried to squash the feeling into oblivion.
Fiannae was a fairy-vampire, one of a kind. She had tricked him into becoming her willing prisoner. If he could make her fall in love with him within three months, she'd help him seek the sun. For two months, he had been stuck in a dreary cave on the west coast of Ireland.
"I am duty-bound to protect Kate. I can't do that from here,” Pyre pleaded.
Fiannae sadly smiled. “It is out of your hands for the moment. Even if you were free, there is nothing you can do to save her."
A thought nagged at Fiannae's brain. Would he ever try to protect me as he does his precious Kate? A strange feeling pressed around her heart. Was this jealousy?
"Nonsense,” she growled. Pyre thought she was talking to him.
"It is not. You don't understand."
Fiannae tilted her head. With her hands on her hips, she looked the part of a jealous wife to Pyre. He knew then that he was winning. “Do you love her?"
Pyre smiled. “As I would a little sister. You, on the other hand..."
Fiannae stomped her foot in irritation and turned her back on him. “Stop it. No more flirting."
Silence filled the cave, and the approach of morning seeped in. Fiannae's temper cooled as quickly as it flamed. She faced him once more.
"Dawn's on my doorstep, and I grow tired."
Fiannae stretched her arms way up in the air with her own flirtatious smile. She laughed. “Imagine what our children would have looked like, Egyptian blood mixed with Irish."
"Beautiful as their mother,” Pyre replied, catching her eyes with his.
Fiannae sighed. “We'll never know, will we?"
Longing filled his eyes, and he couldn't stop the words. “One kiss, Fiannae, please. Just one kiss before bed."
Her green eyes suddenly grew serious as she considered his request. One step and she pressed her body to his. Her lips brushed gently against his, and as the kiss deepened, he pulled lightly against the chains. He desperately wanted to wrap his arms around her perfect body.
Pyre was drowning in her and knew there was no hope for him. He didn't care. He just hoped Fiannae was just as enamored of him, even if she didn't admit it. He realized with a jolt that he was forever heart-chained to this seductress. All guilt-ridden thoughts of Ambrea's love had vanished.
When she finally stepped away from him, there was a warm glow in her green eyes that matched his own. She tilted her head. “Are you sure you're not of the fairy-way, vampire?"
Licking his lips in memory of the recent kiss, Pyre shook his head. “Love has a magic all its own."
Fiannae's face darkened. “Love,” she spat venomously, “is for fools."
"Then I am a fool, and deny all you want, my wicked temptress, but I think you one too."
Fiannae huffed, her foot stomping with disgust. “Never."
She marched off to her bed, leaving Pyre to smile knowingly. She could play tricks with her own mind all she wanted, but Pyre knew a second chance for both of them was on the horizon.
* * * *
Small hands ran over his bare chest, and Pyre sleepily opened his eyes. It had taken him awhile to get used to sleeping on his feet, but the sight of his breathtaking Fiannae waking him each evening made it all worthwhile. If he could play her game and win, he'd have her heart and her help. She wasn't evil, though she liked to think she was.
"The night of the third full moon draws near, Fiannae.” Pyre's voice ached with need of her.
She placed both hands on his face and silenced his complaints with a kiss. Then she pulled back and smiled demurely.
"The seductress has become the seduced. You win. I lose.” Fiannae raised her hands, and the chains fell to the ground. “We've spent hours just talking. It's time to play."
Pyre grabbed her to him. “I have a few ideas that require no talking but lots and lots of playing."
* * * *
The full moon sat in the middle of a billion blinking stars like a proud father at a little league game. The waves roared as they claimed a part of the lonely beach, only to shrink back to sea with an angry hiss. It was an endless struggle as the water sought to swallow the earth. The water never forgot that once, a long t
ime past, it had ruled the planet.
The cold water swirled around the feet of Fiannae and Pyre as they waded into the sea. They held hands, as much for love as for fighting the current.
"I fail to see why I have to be butt-naked to greet Cailleach,” Pyre grumbled.
"It would be an insult if you didn't,” Fiannae smiled.
When the water was waist deep, Fiannae stopped walking, yanking on Pyre's hand for him to stop. “This is far enough."
Pyre increased the beat of his heart, speeding up his blood flow and effectively warming his body. He pulled Fiannae against him in a rough kiss. The current tried unsuccessfully to pull them apart.
Breathless, Fiannae closed her eyes and began chanting. The wind picked up, and the waves reached high in the air. Dark clouds quickly covered the moon, and hard rain pelted own on them.
One huge wave washed over Pyre and Fiannae, knocking them off their feet and washing them onto the beach. When the water receded, Pyre was surprised to find himself on top of Fiannae. He couldn't help himself and pressed his mouth to hers. The rain continued pouring down.
The two became lost in each other and failed to see the woman approach them. She stood at their feet and made a small coughing noise. “Am I interrupting?"
Fiannae gasped, and Pyre rolled away from her. Both looked guiltily up at the newcomer. She smiled. “Was that for my benefit? Did you call me here just to watch?"
Fiannae scrambled to her knees, bowing her head in respect. “No, my lady."
A little slower, Pyre imitated Fiannae, minus the head bowing. Being part-god himself, he was unwilling to submit to another god. Cailleach noticed and raised her hand above his head threateningly.
"You dare disrespect me?” she whispered. “You called me, Pyre, son of Seth. Not the other way around."
For an instance, the frog-face of Hekat flashed for his eyes only. Pyre blinked and reluctantly bowed his head. He stared at her tiny feet. “My humblest apologies."
Rain dripped from his hair onto his face and neck. The unpleasant coldness of it became more intense, and no amount of circulation adjusting on his part helped. Within seconds, Pyre was shivering uncontrollably.
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