by Eve Newton
“Touch them and, daughter or not, I will kill you myself,” he growls at me.
I roll my eyes at him. “All right, papa bear. Calm down. I won’t go near your precious boys.”
“Make sure you don’t. I don’t want them sullied by your less-than-pristine state,” he says as he starts walking at his speed again.
Excuse me? My less-than-pristine state? “What the Hell is that supposed to mean?” I bark at him as I run to catch up.
“You know what it means,” he says with disdain. “Princesses of this Court are supposed to be innocent until marriage. I am sure it is far too much to hope that you still have your innocence?”
I balk at him and say, “I am one thousand and seventeen years old, what do you think?”
“Precisely,” he says. “Sullied. It, quite frankly, is a disgrace.”
I stare at him open-mouthed. I’ll show him a disgrace, I think, clenching my fists at my side.
“I blame your mother,” he adds. “She should have told me about you from birth. I could have gone for you and protected you. Raised you the way you should have been. She may not have been able to interfere, but I could have. Fortunately, there is a silver lining. Kalen is also as tarnished as you are, so I don’t have to worry about your future husband finding out. It’s a good match.”
“Humph,” I say rudely and go quiet.
“I believe you already know Kalen. You share the same Vampire sire,” he says conversationally, and I look up at him.
“Yes, we know each other. We also know each other in the biblical sense,” I say smartly, out of spite for his comments about my lack of innocence.
He glances down at me sharply. “Oh really?” he asks. “Even better. Maybe you are already with child.”
“I had better bloody not be. I have too much to explain to my husband as it is,” I say wearily.
“Husband, ha. Your husband will be Kalen,” he says and stops outside a set of closed double doors.
“Hm,” I say noncommittally. I am all on board for being acknowledged as his daughter, but this whole prophecy business is a worry that I have no idea how I will get out of. Hopefully Sebastian will have some ideas. I will have to ask him, once I am through beating him within an inch of his life for betraying me. My shoulders sag as I realize I would kill to see him right now. Whether it is being here, the place of our shared heritage, or just to see a friendly face who knows what the Hell is going on down here, I don’t know. Drake pushes the doors open with a grand gesture and steps into a hall the size of the entire Ponte Sull’acqua. Man, how big is this palace? So far all I have seen is the prison, the kitchen, the hallway, and my bedroom. Not exactly tour of the century. Hundreds of faces turn towards us and I gulp. Oh, yikes. There is more than enough contempt to go around, but Drake takes my arm and glares at his people. He leads me silently down the aisle and I can feel everyone’s eyes follow me closely. We eventually reach the front few rows and all of my brothers are glaring at me in hatred. Well, most of them, the one at the far end, who appears to be the youngest, gives me an encouraging smile. I return it, but then I actually feel the ice-like stare coming from the tall, thin woman sitting at the front of the room on a throne. Her dark hair is swept up into a tight knot on top of her head and her pinched features are drawn into a look of intense loathing. Ah, I guess this is Drake’s wife, Maurelle. Man, she really does not look pleased to see me. Not that I can blame her, but still. Drake ushers me to the seat next to the friendly one and then goes to sit on his own throne next to his wife.
“I’m Trystan,” the Faerie next to me whispers.
“I’m Liv,” I whisper back with a smile. “Well, not for much longer…” I indicate to our father who has started speaking in a language that I have never heard before but gather is Faerie. It is all guttural sounds and I have no clue what he is saying as I have no foundation in this language. It kind of annoys me and I vow to ask to learn it at the earliest convenience. He goes on and on about who knows what and I struggle to stay awake. Talk about boring. He seems to be pleased, though, with the audience’s response as he smiles at me and gestures me forward. I stand and inch closer to him, vastly uncomfortable under the sinister glare of Maurelle. I look up at him as he takes my hand and I see a genuine look of pride in his eyes and I beam at him, everyone else forgotten. He turns me towards the crowd and says more words I don’t understand, but then, lucky for me, he switches to English and announces my new name. I hadn’t even thought to ask him what it was. I don’t really care, but when he says, “My daughter, Aeval,” I look up at him in surprise. Aeval? As in the Lady of Sexuality? What kind of name is that? He smirks down at me slightly, and I roll my eyes at him.
“It’s not what you think,” he says to me quietly. “It was my mother’s name.”
Oh…wow! He gave me his mother’s name. I flush with pride and he is pleased that I like it.
After much applause, I sense the crowds warming to me slightly now that their King is clearly accepting, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Maurelle stands and with that he dismisses the hall and people start to leave. Drake takes my arm and moves me out of the line of his wife and Trystan comes over to offer his acceptance of me. He is a cute little thing. From what Drake said, he would be eighteen and looks just like his father. Mind you, having said that, they all do. I get completely snubbed by the elder set, who leave without a word, leaving the so-called “unruly” middle boys and the shier younger ones. Maurelle glares down her nose at me with a look that would kill me if I were anything other than what I am. “You may go back to your room now,” she says with so much frost, I shiver. “I don’t want your Halfling presence tainting my sons.”
I hear the sharp intake of breath from Trystan, but I am just thinking, Halfling? What is a Halfling?
“Maurelle,” Drake warns her with a pointed look, and she shrugs her narrow shoulders.
Oh, clearly it is an insult, and a pretty bad one round here it seems, for a crossbreed such as myself. Well, I think, pulling myself up, no way am I letting this bitch insult me. I adopt the exact same sneer that she has on her face and say, “It is interesting that you think you are better than me. I am a Queen by birth and will be an Empress one day, whereas you are just an adornment picked out to breed a girl. Too bad you couldn’t even do that right and my father had to go elsewhere to get the job done.” I know I have been unusually harsh, but I don’t give a damn. I am hungry, lonely, tired and fed up, and this woman has just gotten on the wrong side of me.
“Aeval,” Drake snaps at me, as Maurelle steps closer to me, ready to strike me. He pulls his wife back and all the boys, who had been hovering, decide now is a good time to leave. All except my little shadow, Trystan, who inches closer to me. Maurelle’s gaze zeroes in on him and I pity the tirade that is coming his way.
“You step to defend her against me?” she asks, deathly quiet.
I am smug and that infuriates her further. Sparks flare from her fingers and I hope that I can defend myself against anything she throws at me.
Drake, having had quite enough of this little display, grabs my elbow and half drags me out of the hall. “I told you yesterday, you will not disrespect my wife,” he snarls at me.
“She disrespected me first,” I say even though it is childish and lame.
“Well yes, what she said was uncalled for and I apologize,” he mumbles. “You are my daughter and I will not have you insulted in that manner, even by my wife.”
I raise both my eyebrows at him, my mouth forming a slight “O” in surprise.
He catches my look and smiles slightly. “I suppose you are starting to grow on me,” he says grudgingly, and I give him a quick squeeze, but say nothing because I can tell he won’t want me to.
When he has led me back to my room, I ask, “Will you teach me your language?”
He looks delighted that I asked and says, “Yes, of course. It is not easy though.”
I tell him of my extraordinary linguistic abilities, and he nods. “Ver
y well. I will leave you for a time now. I feel I may have some family issues to deal with.” He sighs and departs, and I am alone again, still hungry, lonely and tired.
A knock at the door startles me out of a half slumber and I stand up and arrange myself into a decent state before I open the door. A very tentative Trystan is standing on the other side and I beckon him in. He stands around uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot and I wait for him to say whatever it is he wants to.
“So, a Vampire,” he says eventually, and I smile.
“Yes, among other things,” I reply.
“We are taught to hate and fear your kind,” he says, “but I don’t find you that scary.”
“Good to hear,” I say.
“Our blood is highly prized by you,” he says conversationally, and I wonder where he is going with all this. I stay silent as I have no satisfactory response for him. “Would you like to, uhm,” he says and blushes a bright red and I get what he wants of me. He wants me to bite him. My fangs are already dropping, and he takes an inadvertent step back.
“Sorry, I’m starving,” I mumble.
He nods decisively. “I had a mind you might be. You can drink from me,” he says. “But don’t tell anyone,” he adds. “They will skin me alive.” He says it with a slight laugh, but I have a horrible feeling it might be the truth. His mother most certainly will have his hide, and mine, if she ever finds out about this.
So, I am wondering that if Faerie blood is the key to Vampires walking around in the sun, and even though it is temporary when you drink from Sebastian, he can do it all the time because his blood is constantly running through his veins, I have to ask myself now: is there a difference between Light Fae blood and Dark Fae blood? Or is all Faerie blood the same?
I ask the question to my brother and get an interesting response, after the amazement that I don’t already know, of course.
“The spell your Vampire witches use is concocted with Dark Fae blood. It is ours that allows you your freedom from the shadows. The Light Fae blood is weak,” he says it as a slur.
“Do you know how the Vampires get your blood?” I ask. I know I must sound absolutely ridiculous, but if he thinks so, he doesn’t say.
He shrugs. “I know not of the ins and outs. Perhaps that is something you can figure out once you return to your Realm?”
Damn right I will. If anyone knows it will be Corinne and she will be coughing up the answers to my questions.
Trystan sits on the bed and asks, “How do we proceed?”
I giggle at his formal tone and I point to the dresser stool for him to sit on instead. He moves and I advance on him slowly. I grab his shoulders and he tenses. “Relax,” I soothe.
He does and I lower my mouth to his neck. As soon as my fangs pierce his skin, I get an almighty rush, but it is too strong for me. I release him after only a couple of pulls and gasp. The only way I can describe it is, if you were used to drinking only water, and then one day you gulped down a glass of tequila instead. Wow. The instant high wears off quickly, but it leaves me satisfied for the time being. “Thank you,” I say to him and he grins at me.
“No, thank you,” he says.
I chuckle at his enthusiasm and his awkward posture as he realizes what has happened to him. I turn away from him to give him a minute to calm his arousal. It is a natural reaction across species, and I don’t take offense to it, nor do I find it creepy because we are sort of related. It just happens, he isn’t reacting to me exactly, just to the high that comes along with my bite. It occurs to me belatedly that I perhaps shouldn’t have bit him. He is incredibly innocent and is likely mortified by his reaction. He rushes out with flaming cheeks and a mumbled, “I will see you later,” and I turn back to the bed and climb on, no longer hungry, but still lonely and still tired. It was a nice act for Trystan to offer his blood to me. I can’t say that he will offer again, but it was thoughtful. He reminds me so much of Pierre in this moment, with his innocence and embarrassment. I close my eyes and remember him; of the way we were before he tried to stake me.
Chapter 7
Paris, France, 1898 – Margeaux
Devon and I had travelled back to Paris from Russia, the long way around. Constantine had come to find me in St. Petersburg and asked me to return to Italy with him, which we did not. Devon hadn’t wanted to, and I didn’t want to leave Devon, so we made our way back to France, much to my sire’s anger. He once again thought that I chose Devon over him, but I didn’t see it that way. If Constantine had wanted me, for us to be together properly, I wouldn’t have hesitated, but I knew that wasn’t what he wanted.
I met Pierre in the summer of 1898. He was eighteen and totally beguiling. His innocence and naïveté of the world held me captive and he had me completely under his spell. I had Shifted after we left my sire at Devon’s request, but as soon as we arrived in Paris, I Shifted back to my natural form. There was a driving force behind it that I couldn’t explain. I later wondered if it had anything to do with Pierre. I was glad that he met me as I was. He was the grandson of a bookshop keeper and the sweetest thing I had ever come across. He had dark hair and eyes to match and his face lit up when he saw me. I teased him mercilessly for weeks, coming into the store every other day so that he could catch a glimpse of me, but I never spoke to him. I flashed him pretty smiles and coquettish looks and if I had let him, he would have followed me around like a little puppy. After a few weeks, he finally plucked up the courage to speak to me, and I batted my lashes at him as he flushed and stammered through his greeting. Devon thought I was being unduly cruel to the poor boy, which was amusing coming from him. He played with his women like a cat would a mouse.
That was when I finally decided to let up my aloofness. I asked him to join me for a picnic and he readily agreed. I was delighted with his attentiveness. He treated me like a princess, and I loved it. I grew very fond of him and as the days passed, I knew I wanted to turn him. He was so shy that I was sure he had never been with a woman before and that made me want him even more. I hadn’t ever bedded a virgin and I liked the idea immensely. On one such picnic, I decided it was time for him to please me. I let him kiss me with his soft, gentle lips. He never took it any further, but that day I whispered to him, “I want you, Pierre.”
“I am right here, my love,” he replied with a confused look that made me giggle.
“No, I want you inside me, pleasing me,” I said.
He blushed a bright red and stammered.
“It’s all right,” I reassured him. “I will show you what to do.”
I wanted to unleash my Vampire on him, but he still didn’t know about me and it might have scared him off, so I went gently with him. I laid him down on the blanket and started to unbutton his shirt. He was as stiff as a board and I told him to relax. I placed little kisses down his chest that made him shiver. When I reached his pants, he was already hard and I brushed my fingers lightly over him, loving how much he wanted me to at the same time as trying to push me away in embarrassment. I smiled to myself and undid his breeches. Before I could get him free, he grabbed my hands, shaking his head.
“I fear if you touch me there, I won’t be able to stop myself,” he said.
“I don’t want you to stop yourself, Pierre. I meant what I said, I want you inside me,” I told him.
“No, I will not defile a lady such as yourself,” he insisted.
Oh, if he only knew I was no lady, but that in itself might make him run, so I whispered to him, “Please, Pierre. I love you. Don’t you love me? Don’t you want to be with me?” I peeked up at him from my lowered lashes and it worked like it always did.
“Yes,” he breathed. “I do love you, Margeaux. Do you truly love me too?” he asked hopefully.
“Of course, chéri,” I said to him. I wasn’t sure that I was in love with him, but I cared for him and enjoyed him, and I wanted him. Desperately. The growing lust in me to have him was fueled by his innocence and his chivalry at not wanting to defile me.
&nb
sp; “Let me show you how we can please each other,” I said, and he nodded as his cheeks blushed like two sweet apples.
After our encounter that day, he became my faithful servant. He never wanted to leave my side and he lived for the time we spent together. As winter grew closer, Devon and I were planning to leave for Portugal, and I wanted him to join us. I still hadn’t told him of my true nature, and I was determined to tell him and to ask him to come away with us. Devon was most upset, but I didn’t let that bother me. I made my plans to tell Pierre and I went to his grandfather’s shop to ask him to join me on a walk. Before we left, his grandfather, M. Aubin, called us to the room upstairs. He was angry with Pierre and then turned on me.
“I know what you are!” he spat at me. “I know you are Satan’s spawn.”
I looked quickly at Pierre, who was looking back at me with sorrow and confusion, until his grandfather told him what I was.
“It was her kind that killed your mother and father, Pierre. How can you associate with such a disgusting, evil creature?” he yelled at Pierre.
I frowned at him, as I have evolved. I am no longer a killer and I certainly did not kill Pierre’s parents. I put my hand up to explain myself to him, when he lunged forward and grabbed the stake out of his grandfather’s hand, aiming it straight for my heart.
“No!” I shouted at him, as I dodged his attack. “Pierre, I can explain. I was going to tell you this day who I am and ask you to come away with me.”
“Never!” he said. “I will never want to be with you knowing what you are. You are evil!”
My heart was breaking at his words, but I fled the shop as he was quite serious about trying to end me. I ran to Devon and we left without another look back.
I lie on the bed, sad that things had turned out that way. I never knew how M. Aubin found out about me, but it doesn’t matter now. I was as seduced by his innocence as my sire was of mine. I sigh as I grow bored. I remember that I left Cole rather abruptly this morning, but I couldn’t very well finish what we started with my father standing right there. I felt his anguish and his exhaustion. I wonder if he went back to bed. I close my eyes and try to reach out to him. If Remiel can do this whole dream world thing, then so can I. I am tired of him being more powerful than me. I find Cole and latch onto the telepathic connection we have, and I can see him. Just as I did before, only he is asleep. I call out to him, but he doesn’t wake, so I try to slip into his subconscious. It’s not as hard as you would think. Remiel is right, guards are down, and it is just a case of having enough power. I enter his dream world and shape it so that he is still sleeping in our bed and I climb in next to him. He automatically reaches for me in his sleep, and I grab his hand and kiss it. His eyes fly open and he starts to speak, but I silence him with a kiss. He pulls me on top of him and I proceed to give him exactly what we were speaking of before we got rudely interrupted. I know he will feel the effects of it after he wakes, because I did when Remiel was messing with my dreams. Not that I shall admit that to any of my boys. It wasn’t a dream, but a reality, and I am giving Cole everything he wanted from me. I snuggle into him and stroke his chest until he falls back to sleep, purring with content. I reluctantly pull out of his dream and return to my own reality, which is sucky and boring. I decide to try my hand at exploring, assuming I can get past the guards stationed outside my door, of course.