Drawn to the Vampire (Blood and Absinthe, Book 4)

by Chloe Hart

  “Oh, yes. But of course that was at my request. If you’re lucky enough to have a vampire in your bed, you’d be a fool to pass up the chance for a little bondage fun. They’re so very, very good at being dominant and it’s so very, very fun to be submissive…to a vampire, anyway. But of course you know all this, don’t you, my dear? The next time I manifest in your space/time we should get together over espresso to have a real heart to heart. Compare notes, you know. I must admit I’m very curious to know how he is with a human woman…how he holds himself back. Because of course if he let himself go completely he’d probably kill you. Are you ever anxious about that?”

  She paused expectantly, actually waiting for an answer, and as Luke watched Kit struggle to cope with the situation, he knew that the most precious thing that had come to him in his four hundred years of existence was destroyed forever.

  Chapter Ten

  When Kit was a freshman in college, her roommate had come in late one night after she and her boyfriend had had sex for the first time.

  “What was it like?” Kit had asked, burning with curiosity.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” the other girl had said, worldly after her one sexual experience. “You’re still a virgin.”

  Kit felt like that college freshman again.

  Like a child in the world of grownups: ignorant, naïve, foolish.

  And lonely.

  Before now, though, she’d had her own world to retreat to: the place where she belonged. Her own circle of friends. The world of computers.

  This time there was no retreat, no avenue of escape. The usual cure for loneliness is a place you belong, and people you belong to.

  This time there could be no cure, because the only person she wanted was Luke. The only place she wanted to be was by his side.

  And it could never be. The distance between them was too vast. Four hundred years and a thousand experiences she could never share or understand—and never want to.

  Now, when it was too late, she understood what had happened to her. She wasn’t just attracted to Luke; she was falling in love with him. She was falling in love with a vampire, a creature with desires she couldn’t comprehend and could never hope to satisfy. The distance between them could not be crossed. She might as well be in love with someone who didn’t exist—a character in a book, or someone long dead.

  Another memory flashed into her mind: the Welsh shepherd girl, and the aching loneliness that had been in her eyes.

  Finally she understood…now that it was too late.

  Too late, too late. Too late to go back to a normal life ever again, even if she got Peter out of here somehow. For the first time in her twenty-one years Kit felt sick of herself and sick of her life.

  But even if life held nothing for her anymore, she could still help her brother.

  “Not that I haven’t been enjoying our conversation, but I did enter the underworld with a purpose. If you speak for Hades and Persephone, will you hear my request?”

  The dark lady—God, how beautiful she was—pulled her cloak around herself again, hiding the savage landscape of scars. Then she stepped back onto the dais and sank gracefully onto the throne.

  “Speak, my dear.” The goddess seemed relaxed, amused, tracing something on her neck with a lazy forefinger.

  One of Luke’s scars. It was blinding white against her pale throat; a brand of passion, possession, brutality and lust. And as Kit tried not to look at it, the worst realization of all came washing over her.

  Even that, she thought. That mark of animal hunger, of everything she’d rejected since childhood. If it came from Luke, she wanted it.

  When Kit spoke her voice was dull and heavy.

  “My brother Peter was cast here by a demon. I’ve come to beg you to return him to me—to the human world. My lady, this is not Peter’s place. He doesn’t belong here.”

  Not like me, Kit thought grimly. She didn’t belong in the world above anymore, but Peter did. He was still whole.

  Hecate was looking at her thoughtfully, her black eyes glittering like jewels. Kit took a step towards her and sank down on her knees.

  “I beg you, my lady. We brought the Gem of Fanor to be restored to your queen, but if it’s not enough, tell me your price.”

  Hecate rose again from her throne, coming down to Kit’s level and laying a hand on the top of her head.

  “Such a pretty child,” she murmured.

  “Get your hands off her,” Luke growled, and Kit forced herself to look at him again.

  “Leave me alone, Luke,” she said coldly. “This isn’t your business.”

  “You can order him to be quiet,” Hecate said quickly, crouching down so she could speak in Kit’s ear. “He’s your guide here, he has no status of his own on your mission. And he made himself your avowed protector, didn’t he? That gives you power over him. I’ll wager he never told you that. By the rules of the underworld, if you order him to be silent, he must obey the order.”

  “Whatever she’s saying, don’t listen to her!” Luke said sharply. “She’s treacherous. She’ll betray you into—”

  “Well?” Hecate whispered.

  Kit didn’t hesitate.

  “Be quiet, Luke. I order you to be quiet.”

  She turned quickly from the pain that flashed into his eyes.

  Hecate was kneeling beside her now, her face only inches away, her black eyes intent as they bored into hers. Kit found it difficult to think clearly, but she forced herself to speak.

  “Will you—will you give me back my brother?”

  “Would you like to see him?” the goddess asked softly.

  Kit’s heart leapt in her chest, and all she could do was nod.

  “Very well.” Hecate sat back on her heels and there in the air between them, as clear as a hologram, was the image of her brother.

  He was sleeping on a pallet of straw. He looked just like he had the last time she saw him, except that his hair was shaggy and he hadn’t shaved in a while. No razors in the underworld, she supposed. His beard was golden like his hair.

  “Peter,” Kit whispered, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her.

  “He’s dear to you, isn’t he?” Hecate murmured. “And of use in the world?”

  Kit couldn’t stop staring at the sleeping form of her brother, his brow furrowed as he dreamed. The look of concern on his face represented to her, in that moment, all the caring and selflessness that was a warrior’s trade.

  “He is of use in the world,” Kit said with a catch in her voice. “Please, my lady—please give him back to us.”

  “You understand a price must be paid. The Gem is not enough.”

  Kit tore her eyes from the image of her brother to meet Hecate’s gaze. “Tell me the price.”

  She would only think of Peter. She wouldn’t think about herself—or Luke. None of that mattered. That was just her own private hell.

  “A life for a life,” Hecate said. “If you will consent to stay here, to give up your life to the underworld, then Peter can go free.”

  Free, Kit thought wildly, her heart racing.

  Peter wouldn’t be the only one who was free. She’d be free, too. Free from the unbearable pain of love. Free from the knowledge of her weaknesses, her secret longings. She could wash it all clean with one act. Everyone had to die sometime, right? And if that were true, what could be better than dying to save someone else?

  Death, she thought.

  Death…

  For the first time, the word held a kind of glamour.

  She rose to her feet, and Hecate rose with her. There was a look of triumph on the goddess’ face, but Kit didn’t notice it. She opened her mouth to speak, to die, to give her life for her brother. All that was needed was one word, the word of consent.

  * * *

  The order Kit had given Luke carried the force of a magic spell. For several minutes he struggled against it, fighting to speak.

  It was no good. To have even a hope of succeeding he would ha
ve to bring all his powers of concentration to bear, and that was impossible when all he could think about was the fact that he’d lost Kit’s trust, and with it the ability to protect her.

  All he could do was watch.

  The two women spoke softly, almost in whispers, but he heard enough to know that Hecate was manipulating Kit—to what end he didn’t know.

  When he finally understood the danger, it was almost too late for him to save her.

  Kit was going to agree. She was going to give up her life. It was her own choice, Luke knew that—the rules of the underworld were strict when it came to the free choice of its victims. The soul could only be theirs if it was freely given.

  But because he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t tell her what Hecate was conveniently leaving out: that self-destruction was not the only answer. There was always another way, another price the rulers of the dead were obliged to accept.

  He had to stop Kit from throwing her life away.

  He covered the distance between them in three swift strides, and with Kit’s profile to him he backhanded her across the temple, catching her as she crumpled to the ground.

  He laid her down gently and then rose to face Hecate. His hatred of the woman before him burned through his veins, but if he raised a hand against her she’d annihilate him before the blow fell.

  If that happened, there would be no one left to protect Kit.

  The goddess was furious. “How dare you,” she spat out. “I’ll send you to the torture chambers, and you will know such pain as no demon has ever suffered. I’ll visit you there myself, Luke, and inflict such agony upon you—”

  “Save your breath,” Luke said calmly, before raising his voice to call out, “True rulers of the underworld, I ask your presence here! Your handmaiden has played false, and undermined the justice of your realm. I call you here to give a price for Peter Bantry’s life, according to the laws of hell!”

  “The laws of hell, Luke? That seems unduly harsh.”

  It was the voice of Hades. Hecate was gone, and the king and queen of the dead, robed as she had been, sat in their proper places.

  “A direct translation, Sire,” Luke said tightly. “In most dictionaries, Hades is another word for hell.”

  “Even so…I feel you are not well-disposed towards my kingdom, Luke.”

  Luke glanced down at Kit, reaching out with his senses to confirm that her heartbeat and breathing were normal.

  “Your servant has threatened my…this lady. She came here on a noble quest and deserved better at your hands. By your laws every honest supplicant is entitled to a fair hearing. Why was she treated so?”

  Hades put back his hood, revealing a dark-skinned and dark-bearded face. “Hecate stayed within the letter of our laws.” He smiled slightly. “Although I agree her methods were less than honorable. I underestimated her hatred of you, Luke. And you underestimated your effect on her the last time you were here. If you thought she would forgive and forget, you were wrong.”

  “Hecate is far more powerful than I am. She was never in any danger from me.”

  “Not in danger of losing her life, no. But what of her heart?”

  “Hecate has no heart.”

  “Every woman has a heart, Luke. How many have you broken in your long career?”

  Luke tightened his jaw. “Sire, Catherine Bantry is unable to speak for herself at the moment. You know of her quest. What is your price for redeeming her brother?”

  Hades looked at his wife, who put back her hood to reveal dark hair, an oval face, and sad gray eyes. “You have my Gem?” she asked.

  Luke pulled the stone from his pocket and stepped forward, bowing his head as he held it out to the queen.

  “Forgive me the theft, Your Highness. I return this to you at the behest of Catherine Bantry.”

  Persephone closed her hand around the stone. “I am satisfied, my husband. Hecate’s price was too high. Set yours as you will.”

  When Hades spoke again, his voice was deeper and more resonant, like a judge delivering sentence.

  “There is something from your world that my lady has long desired. If you wish to redeem Peter Bantry, you must bring this object to us in nine days time.”

  Relief flooded through him. Whatever it was, he’d move heaven and earth to get it. “And what is this object, Sire?”

  “The harp of Taliesin.”

  Luke frowned. “But that’s nothing more than a myth—a child’s bedtime story. If such a harp existed, I would know of it. I’ve lived in Wales for four hundred years and I’ve never heard so much as a rumor of it.”

  Hades’ face remained impassive. “Nonetheless, it does exist. It is in the keeping of the Order of Arthur.”

  A shock went through him. He knew those blokes. He’d known their fathers and grandfathers, too. It didn’t seem possible that the Order had kept a secret like that for—Christ, it must be upwards of fifteen centuries.

  But it was even more impossible that Hades could be lying to him.

  He looked down at Kit. She lay like a sleeping child, small and young and unbearably fragile.

  If the fifteen hundred year old harp of the most famous bard in Welsh history was the price for her brother’s freedom, then he would find a way to get it for her.

  Hades spoke again. “You will return now to the human world. In nine days time we will call you to us—with or without the harp.”

  Luke opened his mouth to ask a question, but there was no one to hear him. A dark wind blew. When it died, he and Kit were at the entrance to a long, dark passage.

  For a moment Luke just stood there, prey to a bone-deep weariness he had never experienced before. Then he bent down and gathered Kit into his arms.

  She didn’t weigh anything.

  Chapter Eleven

  Someone had a headache.

  It’s me, Kit thought. I’ve got the headache.

  She opened her eyes and saw that she was lying in a bed—a big four poster, with blankets tucked up to her chin.

  Where am I? she wondered, blinking up at the beamed ceiling.

  And then, out loud: “Where am I?”

  There was a sound of footsteps, and then Luke’s face came into her field of vision. His eyes were worried as he laid a cool hand on her forehead.

  “You’re awake,” he said, sounding relieved. “How do you feel?”

  “I feel…” Kit struggled to a sitting position, with Luke’s help as soon as he realized what she was trying to do. “This is your room,” she said, confused. Her mind was a jumble of images and memories, horrible memories…but if they were here in Snowdon it must all have been a…

  “I had the most terrible dream,” she said, putting her head in her hands. “I dreamed we went to Paris and the land of the dead—”

  Luke took her hands gently away from her face and held them in his. “It wasn’t a dream.”

  Kit stared at him. “Not a dream,” she said. “Then—”

  In a sickening rush it all came back. The city of the dead…the throne room…Hecate. Her brother, a prisoner in the underworld. She had been only seconds away from freeing him.

  “What happened? Why am I here? She said I could give my life for Peter’s—did she change her mind? Send us back?”

  Luke hesitated, and Kit pulled her hands away from his. “Damn it, Luke, tell me what happened! Did Hecate send us back here?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then why didn’t she accept my sacrifice?”

  “She would have.” A look of pain flashed into his eyes. “She would have, but I stopped you.”

  Kit shook her head slowly. “I don’t understand. How did you stop me? I don’t remember any—”

  “I knocked you unconscious.”

  “You knocked me—” The realization of what he was saying washed over her, and she was so torn between grief and rage that she started to shake.

  “I had to, Kit. It was the only way to stop you. Hecate worked on your weakness until you were ready to throw your lif
e away, and then she told you the only way to redeem Peter was to take his place.”

  Kit’s head was spinning. “My…my weakness?”

  “Self-sacrifice. Your weakness is an urge to self-sacrifice.” Luke shook his head sharply. “No, I don’t mean that. A willingness to die so that others may live isn’t a weakness, but it was Hecate’s way into your heart. That, and other things she did and said…things to make you value your own life less, so you would be more willing to throw it away.”

  Kit was trembling. “I wouldn’t have been throwing anything away.”

  Looking at Luke now, she felt exactly the way she had in the throne room, with Hecate’s words burning into her. She remembered the pattern of scars on the other woman’s body. She remembered the way she’d responded when Luke kissed her in the borderlands.

  And then, suddenly, she understood why she’d always hated and feared the idea of vampires. They represented lust in its most primal form, a hunger so elemental it drove everything else into the background.

  Even as a girl, that had terrified her. She’d never wanted her mind to be taken over by her body. She’d never wanted her love of reason and logic and order to be upended by a hunger as irrational as it was primitive. She was a scientist, not a savage.

  But from the very first moment she’d met Luke, a part of her nature had responded to him. A part of herself she hadn’t even realized was there.

  A part of herself she feared and hated as much as she feared and hated Luke.

  Her life was nothing worth saving. Right now, her very soul felt putrid.

  She raised her voice. “Peter’s the one who deserves to be alive. Not me. And even if you don’t agree with me, you had no right…no right to…damn you, Luke, why didn’t you let me do it? It would be over now…and Peter would be free…why the hell didn’t you let me do it?”

  For the first time there was anger in Luke’s voice. “Because there’s another way, Kit! You can fight for your brother instead of dying for him.”

  “Fight for him? Fight for him how?”

  “After I knocked you out, Hades and Persephone came into the throne room and set a different price for Peter’s life. If we bring them the harp of Taliesin in nine days, they’ll free him.”