Vampire Elite

by Irina Argo

  And maybe they were right about the extra blood. Draining some of the excess off seemed appealing, as if it would unburden her.

  She stepped out of the bath, wrapped a huge, cushy towel around her, grabbed the case, and set it on the nightstand. Sitting on the bed, she pulled out the equipment, and tied the tourniquet tightly around her upper arm. Someone had connected all the equipment already: plastic-capped needle to tube to bag. How thoughtful. She got everything into position and braced herself. Inserting the catheter into her vein was much easier than she’d expected, her vein practically leaping toward the needle. And the physical relief was enormous, her mind clearing and her limbs and torso growing lighter, more mobile.

  So this was to be her plan. She’d feed Anock her blood from a glass for a while, get him addicted to it, and then she’d refuse to be bled again. He was so smitten with her that he’d never force her to do it, so he’d be trapped into blood-bonding with her. Then, as soon as she got her powers ... So long, gorgeous.

  Unexpectedly, she felt sad at the thought of leaving Anock, but she shook off the feeling, pushing herself back in line, focusing on her goal.

  * * *

  Anock returned to his apartment several hours later and immediately collapsed on the couch, throwing his arm over his face to cover his eyes. He had taken a sick day, something he’d never done before. Even yesterday, with the bloodlust as strong as it had ever been, he would’ve said that the term didn’t even exist in his vocabulary. But their lovemaking had nearly killed him and now Anock felt worse than ever.

  He’d heard about what Amiti could do to vampires—making their bodies fill with blood for their vampire lovers—and about how mind-blowing sex combined with feeding could be. What he hadn’t noticed was that no one described how miserable sex not combined with feeding could be; all vampires did was admonish each other not to try it. And now Anock knew why, firsthand. He’d paid for it at the time, and he was still paying now; his bloodlust had gone through the roof.

  Damn, if this was how it was going to be, he wouldn’t be able to have sex with Cara ever again. How would he ever manage to overcome this kind of bloodlust?

  Fuck. He needed to lie still. Very still.

  On his first deep breath, his nose caught the familiar scent of night lily. Anock let the fragrance fill him; it was comforting and seemed to soothe the pain in his body. He took another deep breath—

  Great Sekhmet, it was blood, her blood. His own blood chilled. Where was it coming from? An image exploded into his mind’s eye: Cara, lying on the floor by the tub, a red pool spreading beneath her.

  “Cara!” he shouted, pushing himself to his feet and hurling himself toward the bedroom. “Cara! Cara! Cara!”

  He almost ran into her just inside the door. He would’ve, if she hadn’t reacted fast, stepping back just in time. “What’s wrong? I’m right here.”

  “Cara! My dear Cara, you scared me.” Thank Goddess she was here, alive.

  He was about to gather her in his arms when he saw the glass in her hand. Well, that explained the smell of blood.

  “Where did this come from?” he demanded, pointing to the glass.

  She smiled serenely. “It’s my gift to you, Anock. You’ve given me so much, I wanted to give you something in return. I know you need to feed; please, take it.”

  “You’re giving me your blood?”

  The Sekhmi in Anock roared with triumph. He had accomplished the impossible: an Amiti voluntarily offering him her blood. Now he could have the best of both worlds—a blood source and a lover, without the risk inherent in the blood-bond.

  But something about it didn’t feel right. He wanted Cara as his mate, the female he was going to spend his life with, in joy and in sorrow, in pleasure and in pain. Mates should have equality in a relationship, shouldn’t they? Was he taking advantage of her, destroying the potential for real, lasting love?

  On the other hand, was equality really possible between vampires and Amiti? If they were bound to be unequal, he definitely wanted to be on top.

  And besides, all of this shit was just symbolic. Cara had been raised by humans; what did she care about symbolism?

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “Do you understand what you’re giving me when you offer your blood to me like that?”

  “It means I care about you and I want you to be healthy and happy.” Her face was kind, concerned.

  He couldn’t think about it any longer; his hunger was killing him.

  “Thank you. I accept your gift.”

  Or was it just that it was so much easier not to think?

  Ignoring that possibility, he tipped the glass to his lips and let the still-warm liquid nourish him.

  Chapter 58

  Arianna had been pacing her cell all morning. The space had been totally transformed since her first day there. Theores had been responsible for the change, bringing in everything she could think of to make Arianna’s life more bearable: books, a DVD player and TV, a comfy chair, a dresser with a mirror, plus small amenities like amazing-smelling shampoo, body wash, lotions, moisturizers and conditioners.

  The day Tor had brought her here, Theores had stayed with her, even sleeping in the bed with her, holding and consoling her as she sobbed her heart out. Without Theores, Arianna thought, she might have died of grief that night. Theores had sworn to her then that she’d move into Arianna’s cell with her, but she hadn’t even made it through the next day. Arianna couldn’t blame her, really: Theores loved luxury. And honestly, what Arianna needed was companionship, not big-personality Theores living with her in this tiny, crowded cell.

  Theores had followed through on her promise to visit Arianna often, even joining her for dinner every night, having trays of the same food the pride was eating delivered to the cell. She came at other times, too, bearing armloads of clothes, fresh fruit and flowers.

  When Theores wasn’t around, Arianna kept herself busy reading books and watching DVDs and television. She often caught herself staring at a page or the TV screen, completely tuned out. Half the time she didn’t even know what had distracted her, registered her mind as completely blank. The other half, she knew exactly what it was: Tor.

  In an endless loop, again and again, Tor would sweep into her cell, say everything would be okay, and take her back upstairs, back to life, carrying her in his arms just as he had the first time. Tor also invaded her dreams. Every night, she both dreaded and secretly longed for the moment when the world fell away and she’d feel him, tangibly, holding her, kissing away her tears. And then, each morning, waking up alone in her bed, she’d spend another moment feeling utterly desolate before gathering herself together, pushing away the thoughts of him, and starting over again.

  At times it felt like this torture was far more advanced and sophisticated than any torture she had endured from Khay. Khay had abused her physically, but she’d learned to separate herself from the pain. The torture that Tor was putting her through was like a cancer that was eating her alive. She’d put so much energy into conquering the pain that it seemed it was the most exhausting work she’d ever done. Sometimes she thought it would end up being fatal, to have felt and given that kind of love, and then to be tossed aside like a broken toy ...

  Enough. She had to let it go, had to get a grip, once and for all. It had been two months. She marched herself to the dresser and stared at her reflection in the mirror for a minute, seeing her eyes narrow with determination. It was time for a world-class pep talk, time for the Queen of the Amiti to call the lovesick girl onto the carpet.

  “Your life with Tor is over. He’s not coming back. You knew going into this that the two of you had no future, and it’s time to suck it up and stop mooning over him. There is nothing you can do to change this situation.”

  Strange. Something about this seemed to be working.

  “Tor did what he did because he’s the King, because he’s the leader of his people and he has to have the s
trength to make difficult decisions. His people will always be his first priority and he will protect them by any means. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for your people? You need to learn from Tor’s example. It’s time to stop mourning the loss of your love and put your personal feelings aside. It’s time to become the Queen of your people, the leader you’re destined to be.”

  By the time she’d finished speaking, she had entered an otherworldly state, fixating on the eyes reflecting back at her from the mirror. Her green eye was softer, deeper, like the side of her that was in love with Tor. She covered it with her palm. If she hid that love, what would remain?

  Her golden-amber eye stared back at her from the mirror. As she focused on it, it began to transform, the pupil narrowing, elongating, until it was a cat’s eye.

  She dropped her palm away from her other eye and gulped. It had changed, too. Her eyes were those of a lioness—the Lioness—as if Sekhmet herself was alive within her.

  Startled, she suddenly saw the truth, everything clicking into place at once. She’d done it all wrong. She had sacrificed herself for Tor, just as her mother had. If she was going to sacrifice herself, let it be for the sake of her people, thousands of Amiti, not for one male.

  In that moment, she was reborn.

  “Now, Goddess, I claim my powers. I’m ready for them.”

  Determined, she inhaled deeply once, then again and again, feeling dark malice rising in her, black rage soaking into the cells in her body. Heat gathered in her solar plexus. Energy raced through her veins fast, too fast, demanding an outlet, seeking an escape route.

  Focusing her awareness inward, she froze in awe. It wasn’t the Gift of Ra emerging, as she’d assumed. Arianna had tapped into a power far greater, far more dangerous. It was the dark power sleeping deep within all Amiti: Sekhmet herself. Welcome, Goddess!

  * * *

  Arianna had told Theores she could come on in without knocking, but Theores always tried at least to give her fair warning by being loud about it.

  “Hi, beautiful!” she called out as she pushed open the door to Arianna’s cell. “How are you? I brought you something different today.” She held up a tray of sweets. “Why is it so hot in here?”

  As though she’d only then registered Theores’s presence, Arianna slowly turned—too slowly, but Theores didn’t register the problem until it was too late. When Arianna raised her eyes, Theores stepped back and the tray tumbled to the floor.

  “What,” she gasped. “What happened to you?” Arianna’s eyes had gone wrong, glowing golden and—something else that Theores couldn’t place.

  “What do you mean?”

  Arianna’s voice was wrong, too—unrecognizable, distorted—and the cold, blank look on her face rooted Theores to the spot. The tiny hairs on the back of Theores’s neck tingled, reacting to the presence of a predator. A very dangerous predator.

  The Lioness.

  “Your eyes ... they changed color ... ”

  Arianna said nothing, her eyes still locked on Theores’s.

  “I ... I ruined your treat; I’ll go get you another one. I’ll be right back.” Theores backed out of the room, trembling with dread, her voice failing her. “I’ll be right back ... ”

  As she closed the door behind her, she heard that cold, distorted voice again.

  “Don’t bother,” Arianna said. “I’m not into sweets right now.”

  Chapter 59

  On her way out of the basement, Theores texted Leon and Anock—Tor’s study, now!—before tearing upstairs to meet them there.

  Tor was on the phone, and held up a hang on a second finger without making eye contact, but then he seemed to do a double-take, registering how flustered she was. Just as he was saying “Let me call you back” and hanging up, Anock and Leon burst into the room.

  “We have a problem,” she began, still a little breathless. “A huge one.”

  “Sit down, Theores, and then tell us about this huge problem.” Tor’s voice was calm, but his body language betrayed him: he’d gone onto high alert. Theores could tell that he knew something was seriously wrong, and she’d bet he also knew it was about Arianna.

  Theores took her seat and blurted out, “Arianna’s powers are coming online. I just went down to see her, and it was like the whole cell was charged up with power. Even her eyes are different: they’re both amber now, and her pupils are narrow, like a cat’s.”

  “That’s really weird,” observed Leon. The two other guys nodded as if Leon had made a really insightful point.

  “What it is is unprecedented,” Tor added after a moment. “I’ve never seen that before; even her mother’s eyes never did that.”

  “For the record, I strongly objected to moving her to a cell. She was already ours.” Theores had kept her mouth shut about this for long enough, not wanting to make Tor any more miserable than he already was. “The girl was yours, heart and soul. Sure, you hadn’t blood-bonded with her, but our plan was working. Of course the Order wanted to contact her; she’s their Queen, and they need her on their side. But the contact was irrelevant.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” interjected Anock. “We have a reliable source reporting that the Amiti have five Keepers now. That means that some time in the past year or so—even though she spent most of it imprisoned—Arianna found a way to name a new Keeper of Death to replace Marcus. And I don’t need to remind you that they have Simone and that she’s the Keeper of Life. The Keepers are determined to follow through with their plan. Etain consulted an oracle who confirmed that the Key will be turned. Do you understand what that means?”

  When they all just stared at him instead of answering, Anock continued. “What it means is that as far as we know, there is nothing standing between them and that fucking Key being turned—except the fact that they don’t have Arianna. And so there’s nothing more important than keeping Arianna locked in that cell, so the Keepers will never be able to use her.”

  Theores could practically see the gears spinning in Tor’s brain as he tried to process it all. She felt bad for the guy. It was hard enough for Theores to deal with her conflicting feelings about Arianna—wanting the blood-bond, fear for what Arianna could do, and her affection for the girl—and Tor had the added complications of his duties as King, not to mention his love and his broken heart.

  Thinking about that, she was caught off guard when he spoke again. “So tell us more about what you saw.”

  “When I went in there, it felt like a furnace room. She didn’t say much, but when she spoke, her voice sounded like it wasn’t just her in there, if that makes sense. And she seemed ... determined. As though she’s gotten tired of being miserable and now she’s angry. But it’s a cold anger, not a hot one. Distant, frigid.”

  “Well, that’s not good news. Anger is one of the strongest emotions; it’ll facilitate the development of her powers.” Leon leaned back, his eyes narrowing. “And I’m going to go out on a limb and say that once she gets them, odds are she’ll use them against us.”

  “It doesn’t matter what the odds are; it simply cannot happen. We can’t let it happen.” Tor drew in a breath, his eyes scanning the room as though looking for options, and then heaved a sigh. “Tell the handlers to begin draining her regularly, starting tonight.”

  Theores choked. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m deadly serious.”

  “But—”

  “Theores, let me remind you that I am the King here. Until you decide that you want to challenge me for that position and then managed to defeat me in a duel, my word is law.” Tor’s voice was arctic.

  “I’m not going to challenge you, Sire. I’ve never doubted your authority, and I follow your orders without question. But you’ve always encouraged us to voice our opinions. I just felt that I was free to express myself, following your instructions.” Theores lowered her head, demonstrating her subordination.

  “Good. Arianna is your responsibility from now on. Now go
make sure that my order is executed. You, too, Anock and Leon. Theores’ll need backup this time. And no hesitation. She’s powerful; treat her as a potential enemy. Shoot first, ask questions later, got it?”

  Theores rose and left the room, churning with rage and frustration. She’d come up with the perfect plan—and, maybe more to the point, the only plan—and it had almost worked, and now everything was going haywire. Why couldn’t they understand that they were actually making the situation worse? Arianna had been their ally; even when they’d locked her up, some part of her had understood their need to do so. But given what they were about to do? They were turning her into an enemy who wouldn’t hesitate to turn the key.

  And, of course, that meant that Theores would die along with everyone else. She had to swallow her personal feelings—her desire for the blood-bond, her sympathy for Arianna—and focus on the interests of the pride and her race.

  Arriving in the bloodstock wing of the basement, Theores stuck her head in the door of the handler’s office. Good: two of George’s assistants were in there with him. “George, prepare a catheter and follow me,” she commanded. “All of you.” She didn’t wait for them to respond, just paced the hallway while they gathered their supplies.

  Theores let the humans go first. She told herself it was because they knew the routine, but it was a lie. She just wanted to delay facing Arianna—in both of her aspects, the Sekhmet-possessed one and the betrayed-friend one—even if it was only for the split second it took the humans to get through the door.

  It turned out to be a lot more than a split second: George froze in the doorway so abruptly that the other humans actually collided with him. The predator in Theores thrilled at the smell of his fear, then balked at the memory of the more powerful predator inside the cell.

  Theores gave him a moment to wrap his mind around the transformed creature in the cell; when he didn’t keep going after that, she shoved all three humans through the door. “Move along; do your business.”