by Nicola Rose
Taste the Dark
Elwood Legacy 1
Nicola Rose
Copyright © 2018 Nicola Rose
All Rights Reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Whilst the towns/cities are real, all other names, characters, businesses, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and coincidental.
For my Mum - Maggie
The most amazing and wonderful mother that any child could have asked for.
Always positive, strong and thoughtful.
A truly inspirational woman.
“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.”
Edgar Allan Poe
Contents
1. Zac
2. Jess
3. Jess
4. Jess
5. Jess
6. Jess
7. Jess
8. Zac
9. Jess
10. Jess
11. Jess
12. Jess
13. Zac
14. Jess
15. Zac
16. Jess
17. Zac
18. Jess
19. Jess
20. Jess
21. Zac
22. Jess
23. Jess
24. Jess
25. Jess
26. Jess
27. Jess
28. Jess
29. Zac
30. Jess
31. Jess
32. Jess
33. Zac
34. Jess
35. Jess
36. Jess
37. Jess
38. Jess
39. Jess
40. Jess
41. Jess
42. Jess
43. Zac
44. Jess
45. Jess
46. Jess
47. Jess
48. Zac
Also by Nicola Rose
Also by Nicola Rose
Acknowledgments
Afterword
About the Author
1
Zac
The gathering inside the Great Hall of the de Monsos castle could be viewed as the very definition of disparity. Down the left side of the aisle the swelling crowd was beautiful beyond reason; poised, elegant, pale-skinned and striking. They wore their carefully composed masks of calm with an air of superiority, but also a hint of expectation and excitement.
In stark contrast the other side of the aisle contained a mixed bag of guests who were pitifully ordinary; standing beneath elegant chandeliers, surrounded by grandeur, whilst dressed in shabby clothes and, honestly, needing a good bath. They wrung their hands with unease and whispered to each other, standing in little groups, aware of the way the ‘others’ were looking at them with calculating eyes.
I leant back against the wall in a darkened corner and let out a bored sigh. This could be a long night.
A hush fell over the room as a man entered, dressed in an expensive suit, with a blushing bride on his arm. She giggled as he ushered her through, gathering up the silk train that billowed out in her wake.
His smile was serene, his pace casual. But the buoyant smile on her face quickly faded when she took in the room. Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. To the left of the aisle they grinned and nodded at the groom. The other side shuffled around awkwardly, as if they didn’t actually know why they were here. Probably for the best.
“I thought we weren’t having any guests?” the bride whispered in the groom’s ear. “You told me no family or friends. Just us. Who are all these people?” She scanned the crowds, searching for anyone familiar.
“Hush now, everything’s fine. We’ll talk after the ceremony. Just enjoy this moment, my love.”
They arrived before an altar and stopped to face each other. She glanced around again at the watchful, expectant stares from the crowd. I pressed myself further into the wall to stop from walking out. Why was I even here?
Emory de Monsos, leader of the Bael, just loved fucking toying with me, that’s why. I shifted my gaze and tried to get his attention, but he was standing behind the altar, waiting for the bride and groom to notice him. He was staring at the bride like she was his Christmas present – eager to get on with opening her up.
Her hand went to her chest in worry, a flush creeping up her neck, but then the groom smiled and her shoulders relaxed. She took a deep breath and smiled back, reaching out to stroke his face as if utterly in awe of him.
I would never do this. Never. Yet, the excitement from the left of the aisle was a tangible thing in the air, and the wisp of fear beginning to weave through the others… I clutched my fists beside me. No. I will not partake.
Emory cleared his throat from behind the altar and the bride finally snapped her attention to him. Within a second she was shaking her head in a daze. No doubt blinded by him, as everyone is, with his pure white hair and skin like bleached bone, smooth as the marble before him. Today he’d dressed himself in some weird priestly robes.
Part of me wanted to tell her not to look at his blood-red eyes, but it was too late, and I wouldn’t actually have done it, anyway. Her hands began to tremble.
“Good evening,” Emory said, loud enough to carry through the vast hall. “We’re gathered here today, at this sanguine mating, to celebrate the joining of two souls fated to be together. Their union is demanded by our laws and their fate is binding. This bride will surrender herself wholly to this groom, and he shall take from her until he has had his fill.”
She tried to pull her hand free from her beloved, but he held tight. “What is this?” she demanded in a low whisper, as if we couldn’t hear. “This is not a vicar. I don’t—”
“Quiet, my sweet,” he soothed, his grip tightening on her until she was squirming in discomfort.
“Say your vows,” Emory commanded.
The groom gazed hungrily at his bride and her struggling faded as he turned her round to face the audience. So confused. Her watery eyes so wide, but she couldn’t speak, couldn’t run. Rooted to the spot. Fear, or mind control. Could be either.
“Blood of my blood, bone of my bone, you will surrender your body, so that we might become one.” He smiled at her; a sharp, toothy grin. She stumbled to take a step back. The guests to the left were out of their seats, eyeing up the ‘others’, who stood like adders poised to strike.
I folded my arms and resisted the urge to yell at them to hurry up.
“Your life shall pass through me, Bethany,” his voice dropped. “Your death will bring me a new strength, new life. I’m truly blessed to have found my sanguine mate. I claim your essence as mine, for eternity. Sanguis quia aeternum. Mortem erit mea.”
He moved forward a step to kiss his bride. Her head shook. A shallow cry came from somewhere in her throat, but faded to a whimper as he pushed her up against the altar.
“No,” she pleaded – a whispered word that sent excitement surging through the room. The confused guests tried again to leave their seats, and were pressed back down by the groom’s men. His han
d hiked up her dress revealing a garter on a delicate thigh. Higher and higher, the material rose until a flash of red panties had him growling with desire.
“You should feel honoured to serve me,” he groaned in her ear. “You were born for me. Be grateful the service has been short.” His teeth found her neck and a moment later blood flowed down her chest and spread through the material of the gleaming white dress.
Messy. Wasteful.
Finally. Perhaps now we could get on with this so I could leave. I made a move towards Emory, but one of his grunts halted my advance. Sanguine etiquette.
So I waited, less than patiently, until the groom had his fill. Then he turned his fated bride around, pushing her down over the altar. She thrashed against him, shying from the bloodied lips and the hands that spread her legs apart. I turned away as he dropped his pants and drove into her. I didn’t need to see his white ass jerking back and forth.
Chaos erupted through the hall.
People ran and fought, tugging on locked doors.
Then the screaming began.
Elegant guests turned into savages. Such is the way with vampires.
Some people believe there’s a monster in all of us. That it sits there, hiding and dormant, and that under certain circumstances it may be released. Sometimes instances out of our control set it raging free, other times we choose to let it out. Some of us are better at keeping it locked down. Others fail to contain it at all.
I don’t believe it exists in everyone, but what I do know is that no one can truly understand the meaning of ‘the monster within’ until they’ve battled a darkness so savage, so powerful in its desire to consume, that it shatters your soul into nothing but fragments. You’re left clutching at the pieces, pulling them back together, trying to forge them into something of meaning and worth.
I call it the Beast, and testing the Beast is the only way to control it. To release it, just enough that it threatens to break free, and then draw it back. Each time releasing it further, taking bigger risks – because with each victory comes greater strength. A power almost as strong as that of the Beast; the power of hope.
My monster might be locked away, but its voice is always there. Pushing, testing, taunting. Trying to be heard and have its words tumble from my lips instead of sitting mute in my head. For now it’s trapped in my carefully erected cage, and not at all happy about it. If it finds a foothold there’ll be no putting it back.
And it certainly wasn’t in the mood for playing today, with little intention of staying locked down. An unusual electric ache scratched down the back of my neck. I’d liked to have blamed the bloodbath unfolding before me, but it wasn’t just that.
No. It wasn’t dead humans giving me a headache. It was dead vampires.
Because dead vampires don’t pop up often, you see. We’re notoriously hard to kill, and when we do slaughter each other we’re meticulous about hiding the evidence. Yet I’d lost two men in as many weeks. Someone was on my island, killing my vampires under my nose, and I had nothing. No scent to pick up on, no trail to follow. It was like the damn invisible man was wandering around my territory, teasing and taunting me with his invincibility.
Speaking of invincibility, or assholes, for now I was keeping a close watch on Emory as he made me wait for his attention. His sole focus was on the groom, who was still fucking his new bride into oblivion, her pure dress drenched in blood.
Such a waste. A sanguine mate should be savoured. The evening should have been drawn out over days, weeks, and her essence taken gradually. Not that I approve, but if you’re going to go all primal then at least do it correctly.
However, events were escalating quickly and I supposed at least that meant I wouldn’t have to endure much more. The vampire guests were just as impatient as the groom – they hadn’t wasted any time in devouring the humans, who were most likely homeless people, rounded up and brought in for the entertainment.
People with nothing, who’d been promised an evening of alcohol and merriment. If any of them ended up being missed, then a Bael goon would go in and clear up the issue. Innocent people, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Lured in by the beautiful vampires.
Whilst just down the hallway, in another soundproofed hall, the richest members of society had been invited to an entirely different event. Politicians, the chief of police, lawyers, scientists and megacorp members; they were all there sipping their champagne and nibbling their canapés, enraptured by the ‘World of Emory’ – all of them in his pocket, thriving off the attention and bribes, blissfully unaware of the monsters in their midst. Or even worse, some were well aware, but uncaring. Foolishly believing that because they did his bidding they were safe.
Only Emory would host several events simultaneously, as a clear demonstration of his power and rank. He’d spend the evening casually slipping between the two parties – one minute feasting on the blood of an unfortunate guest in a gruesome, frenzied orgy, and the next minute he’d be schmoozing with those elitist cocksuckers just down the hall.
He finally turned to look at me, wiping bloodied hands down his robes, and I wondered how many outfit changes he needed on a night like this.
I shrugged away from my observation post against the wall, impatient for this bullshit evening to end.
“Biggest party of the year and you didn’t invite me?” Leon appeared at my side, resting a hand on my shoulder.
I smiled and shook my head. “Which party are you referring to? Did you come for one of the homeless saps or a business tycoon, because personally, I’d prefer the perky spring-break tits back on our island?”
He laughed and inched in closer. “You’re not yourself at the moment. You shouldn’t have come here alone.”
Emory appeared in the next instant. About time.
“Mr. Elwood,” he nodded, red eyes scanning me up and down. “I don’t remember putting any other members of your repellent clan on my guest list.” He glowered from Leon to the security guards by the door. Thanks to my best friend, they’d be dead by dawn – if they were lucky.
Leon nudged my ribs and gave Emory a wide grin, knowing that the Bael leader has a taste for blonde, surfer-looking dudes like himself.
“Follow me,” Emory sighed, ignoring Leon and turning on his heels.
“Alone,” he added over his shoulder.
Leon grunted, and I followed Emory to the back of the hall, side-stepping past the pools of blood and mangled bodies. The mayhem seemed to pause as we picked our way through, all eyes drawn to arguably the most powerful vampire on the planet, and myself, arguably the most baffling. The human guests that were still alive made pleading eyes at me. The vampires observed me with disgust, because outcasts don’t belong at such events.
Tension in the air thickened. Leon sent me some thoughts about watching my back, and how he’d ‘tear each member of the Bael a new one’ if they overstepped. I shook my head at his idiocy. He was a fool for coming. If things went bad here he’d be joining the doomed security guards, and he knew it. A pang of guilt swept through me at the memories of those I’d already lost, clouding my vision… rattling the cage.
Get a grip, Zac. Do what you were sired for and take them out. The Beast reared its head, whispering into my ears.
Beyond the altar, Emory settled himself into his ridiculous throne; intricately carved, upholstered in red velvet, and sitting atop a marble dais. It might have seemed appropriate hundreds of years ago, but to me it looked gaudy and absurd.
Looking bored now that the bride was lying utterly dead on the altar, he cocked one leg over the arm of the throne, and toyed with his long ponytail. Albinism robbed every bit of pigment from his skin and hair. Even his eyelashes were the brightest white, their delicate purity tainted by the devil eyes they framed.
Those eyes were a window into hell. Gazing into them for too long had been known to send mortals insane. Though that was really just a trick, it was his mind-control that did that, not the eyes themselves.
Just as I wa
s about to speak, Emory nodded to one of his men and a whimpering woman was thrust at me. I pushed her aside and found that she was chained up to three other girls. All of them naked women. They formed a little line before us and Emory shot to his feet like a kid with candy. For fuck’s sake, had he not had enough already?
“I do love to eat before conducting important business, don’t you, Zac?” he asked.
“I already ate.”
Liar. I squeezed my eyes closed for a moment, silencing the Beast.
A smile lingered on Emory’s pretty-boy lips before he tore into a girl’s throat, deliberately doing so with enough force to splatter blood all over my white button-down shirt. I stepped back and attempted to wipe myself down. The heat from the naked bodies caressed me, their pitter-patter hearts skipping through my head. My fangs threatened to descend.
It was so hard to stay focused with a man being stretched apart on a rack to my right, several chained up to my left, and now these tantalizing treats before me. Fuck knows what was going on behind me, but it sounded fun.
Take them.
“Enough of the show, Emory. Get it over with. Why am I here?” I barked, clenching my teeth together and trying to hold my breath.