The Vampire's Mark 2: Hell Storm (Reverse Harem Romance)

by Rachel Jonas

  A sane person would have been fighting for her life. I should have been absolutely terrified, but I was hypnotized by the first deep draw he took of my blood. Within seconds, long, dirty-blond lashes closed over his eyes, and the light grip he had on my arm tightened. He seemed to slip into what could only be described as a blissful trance.

  What if he can’t stop?

  What if he loses himself and rips me to shreds instead?

  I considered these things, but said nothing. There was no taking my eyes off him—this beautiful monster I’d slowly begun to realize wasn’t so easy to figure out after all. For a while, I thought I had him pegged, only to find out that assumption was wrong.

  His throat moved with one last swallow, and slowly, as if the act of stopping was physically painful, he pulled away. I didn’t miss how he allowed his lips to drag over my skin, collecting a rogue trickle of blood as it ran down my arm. Our gazes locked, and only then did I notice the darkness that had filled his eyes. It faded with each passing second, eventually leaving behind the otherworldly white with their silver centers.

  The realization that my chest heaved alerted me of my rapid breathing. I was practically panting, breathless as I witnessed the single-most impressive act of restraint I’d ever seen. There was a fleeting moment where I thought he might lean in for more, but he didn’t, lowering my arm instead. Perhaps to curb the temptation I knew I hadn’t misjudged.

  He removed a handkerchief from his back pocket, gesturing for me to wipe away the remnants. Turning to watch him, I wondered if he felt the effects Silas had spoken of earlier. Had the most basic parts of my psyche already begun to seep into his?

  Nothing I saw indicated such, but … I wondered.

  A sudden movement brought my eyes to him again. Without hesitating, he bit into his own wrist, using just enough force to break the skin. When he held it out to me like I’d done for him, I only stared.

  My stomach churned like mad, causing a wave of nausea to hit me out of nowhere. I wasn’t … like them. This wasn’t normal to me.

  When I peered up, Julian let out a short, chuffed laugh, and the sound of it warmed me to my core. The mood, suddenly lighter, eased some of the tension I carried in my shoulders.

  “Not to make light of it or anything,” he started, “but I don’t think you have to take much of it.”

  I supposed he meant to console me, but it didn’t work. I didn’t want to take any of it.

  Woman up, Cori. It’s just a little blood.

  It’ll be quick and painless.

  Just do it.

  The pep talk seemed to work, but I had to act before losing the nerve. Snatching Julian’s arm where it hovered in the air, my mouth clasped over the small puncture wounds and tasted the first hint of blood—bitter, metallic.

  Don’t puke, kid.

  Keep it down, or you might have to start over.

  I swallowed again, this time drawing out more from his arm. One last gulp and I pulled away, using the handkerchief I’d been given, this time pressing it to my lips.

  When my eyes slammed shut, another of Julian’s deep, sultry laughs filled the silence. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  A dark gaze was my answer, and I was certain he could read it. The sight of it only made him laugh harder.

  Despite myself, I smiled too. “Happy my misery can amuse you.”

  The deed was done.

  “So … what now?” I asked. “Do we just wait or—”

  Julian shrugged, and it was then that I remembered he and the others were almost as clueless about this as I was. Even what Silas knew had only come from one night of feverish research. There certainly were no hard, fast rules on which any of us could rely.

  “I guess we just wait,” was Julian’s only offering.

  Blowing all the air from my lungs, I stared at the wall, at the odd shadows the fire cast on it as an idea struck me.

  “Might go faster if we talk.”

  The suggestion garnered me his full attention and I, admittedly, shied away from it a bit, avoiding eye contact.

  “Sure. Feel free to start,” he replied, a smile ghosting on his lips.

  I scrambled for a conversation starter, but decided to kill two birds with one stone—pass time, dig for information.

  “What do you four get out of this blood bond? I mean, something made the crowd suddenly cast down their pitchforks when Levi made the announcement?”

  Julian’s palms sank into the mattress as he leaned back to get comfortable.

  “Well, it’s less about what we get out of it, and more about what the Ianite community as a whole gets out of it.”

  His reply only confused me more.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Julian gathered his thoughts, probably thinking of how he could break things down in a way I, a ‘lowly human’, would understand.

  “I’m assuming you already know Ianites from each quadrant have their own respective abilities?”

  I nodded as he continued.

  “Well, there’s more to it than that. The region-specific gifts are the result of there being four strains of the vaccine our people were given. Each emperor also received one of the four, only a far more elegant version. I suppose it was Ian’s way of creating a hierarchy among a population that could, technically, live forever.”

  Without him elaborating, I believed I understood. These gifts Julian spoke of, the monarchs possessed them tenfold. There were the physical differences between the royals—how the princes and their fathers towered the average Ianite male, their silver gazes, and unmatched physical perfection.

  Julian’s strength was likely only rivaled by his fathers. I guessed Silas’ mental capabilities were more fine-tuned and powerful than others in his Quadrant. The same for Levi’s telekinetic strengths, and Roman’s physical gifts.

  “Another thing Percival did to set the men of the royal families apart, was make us immune to the venom of an everyday Ianite. Ours will always kill one of them instantly; however, only venom from an emperor would prove fatal to another emperor.”

  Or from a prince to an emperor.

  … From a son to a father.

  It instantly reminded me of how Julian had stood to guard me. He had intervened to spare his father certain death when the rogue reporter dared him to feed on me. I also remembered how the other princes fell in line to shield me much like Julian had. They surrounded me like a fortress, and despite the ravenous beasts that filled the room, I couldn’t remember a time I felt more protected.

  “You said men of the royal families,” I pointed out when my thoughts shifted. “Did he intentionally exclude women? Does the same not apply to them?”

  When Julian searched my expression, I got the feeling he thought he’d find offense there. Only, I’d never limited myself to only being an advocate for women. There was no room for feminism in a world where an entire people, male and female, remained severely oppressed.

  He studied me a moment longer, likely only finding curiosity within my gaze.

  “Yes, it’s the reason Roman, Silas, Levi and I have our fathers’ silver eyes instead of red like our mothers,” he explained. “The women are gifted, yes, but the amplified traits of our given strains lie dormant in them—hence the craze that ensued roughly twenty years ago, for our fathers to produce male heirs. I suppose they wanted to ensure that each Quadrant had the strongest possible Ianites in power.”

  This was information I hadn’t considered before, hadn’t given the details much thought because the history of the four strains was unclear. Creating this hierarchy, this sense of the few being greater than the masses, had been Dr. Percival’s way of enforcing social order. Below the general Ianite population was the common roamer.

  Ranking dead last?

  Humans.

  My eyes slammed shut with that acknowledgement, breathing deeply. I was aware that he had yet to fully answer my question, but it was time to divert the conversation. I couldn’t afford to let the darkness in; not if
I intended to keep my head clear.

  “Have you spoken with your father anymore today? Since the incident?” I blurted, wanting to redirect my thoughts.

  There was a small chance this question was one I shouldn’t have asked. One more appropriate when discussed between two people on a level of emotional intimacy Julian and I hadn’t reached. Still, I barely hesitated.

  Julian’s gaze lowered to the floor as he answered. “Actually, no. I haven’t.”

  There was a distant look in his eyes I didn’t’ miss. I also caught the gravity in his tone. In another world, one where it made sense to sympathize with him, I might have reached for his hand.

  “You stood up for me,” I commented. “I’m not sure I thanked you for that.”

  A dim smile returned to his face. “You don’t have to thank me. It was the right thing to do.”

  My gaze lifted when his response surprised me. Mostly, because I hadn’t really thought of it as a moral dilemma on his part—a matter of doing right by me.

  He must have taken note of the bewilderment on my face when I swallowed hard. I guessed as much, because of how quickly he looked away.

  “So … do you feel anything yet?” He stammered a bit when asking.

  Focusing inward, I evaluated my thoughts, my senses, I then shook my head. “Nothing. You?”

  “I do,” he answered, pausing to breathe deep as I waited on the edge of my seat. “It’s like, I have this extreme sense of justice, a more prominent awareness of right and wrong that simply wasn’t there before.” Intrigue filled his expression as his gaze shifted toward me. “The sensation is so strong it—”

  “Feels like it’ll eat you alive if you don’t quench it?” I added.

  He continued to stare when he gave a wordless nod.

  “Yeah,” I chuckled. “I might know a thing or two about that.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised me that this was the trait he absorbed from me. I suppose, if I was being honest, I knew it to be my most defining characteristic.

  Poor guy had no idea what he was in for now.

  My sense of responsibility, my thirst for justice, kept me up most nights. It felt like there was always more to be done. Most of my meals were had while plotting strategy. If I wasn’t studying a map, I was going over a list of Harvest Identification Numbers with Banks that could potentially be candidates for freedom. If it wasn’t a list of HINs, it was an inventory list that needed to be evaluated before our next run.

  I was loyal to my cause, and depending on who you asked, maybe to a fault.

  My lips parted to speak, but then pressed closed again. I felt … odd. When the room seemed to spin, I was grateful to already be seated on the bed. There was a strange ringing in my ears and all other sound seemed to fade into the background. However, just as soon as it came, it was gone.

  Julian observed me. “I take it you’ve just felt the effects?”

  Feeling overwhelmed as my senses settled, I gave a nod. “It’s either that or one heck of a seizure getting ready to strike.”

  Only, I knew it wasn’t that. This was something else.

  “Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” Julian chuckled. “At the risk of sounding like a masochist, I’m anxious to be reduced to that one word—my most defining trait.”

  I blinked as the room slowly settled, and it didn’t take any time to think of that word.

  “Altruistic,” I blurted. “You do everything for others, nothing for yourself.”

  The smile he wore faded just a little. I could only guess that wasn’t what he expected to hear.

  Or did he?

  He let out a short laugh at himself, one that made me think this might have been the case.

  “Well, there it is. Me in a nutshell, I guess.”

  “There’s no shame in thinking of others’ needs before your own.” I meant the words to be kind, and could only hope he didn’t mistake my tone for being condescending.

  Julian released a long sigh. “Try telling that to my father.” His reply had inadvertently given a glimpse of what life as the Eastern Emperor’s son was like.

  I said nothing in return, only stared at the clock on the wall. We’d been locked inside my room for roughly twenty minutes. In that time, thanks to a bit of conversation, and the Claiming, we were now better acquainted.

  The process had been invasive in more ways than one. We both felt that, I believed. It began with the exchange of blood, and then the exchange of traits. Now that I knew what drove him, I found it hard to question his motives when it came to me. I was now more certain than ever that he could be trusted.

  Even if that revelation went against everything I’d been brought up to believe.

  We turned toward one another at the same time, and there was a brief moment of awkward silence as so many thoughts and emotions seemed to swim in those silver eyes.

  “I uh … suppose I should get back to the others,” he offered distractedly, tearing his gaze from mine.

  When he stood, my eyes chased after him. My thoughts were pummeled with fleeting images of our kiss. And, despite myself, I couldn’t help but wish I remembered more of it.

  “If you’d like to join us in the study again, you’re more than welcome.”

  His offer caused my heart to leap. I hadn’t expected to be let in so quickly, but I suppose he came to the same conclusion I had; there was no sense in delaying the inevitable.

  “Think I’ll pass,” I replied, unable to fight the smile that came with it. “But thanks for the invite.”

  “Then I’ll see you in the morning. At breakfast?” he added with a hopeful gaze.

  My heart hammered at the sight of it. “Sure.”

  The only response that made sense to me was agreeing to whatever he asked. Another boyish grin came my way, and then the door closed behind him when he left. And with the separation, my heart lurched a bit.

  What in the world was that? Was I pining after him with nothing more than a few feet and a wall between us?

  That was a side-effect I hadn’t anticipated, and my next thought was to wonder if he felt it too.

  Stop being such a girl, Cori.

  I dropped back against my bed and stared at the ceiling, acknowledging a truth I was nowhere near ready to admit. However, my acceptance of it didn’t seem to matter.

  If what I felt already after only having participated in the Claiming mere minutes ago continued to grow and strengthen … keeping a clear perspective of the bigger picture might not be as simple as I thought.

  What I felt for Julian was already beginning to eclipse my resolve. So, what hope would I have for holding on to it once I eventually bonded with the other three?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Silas

  There wasn’t a single news outlet that wasn’t obsessed with our story. And it would suffice to say that the suddenly infamous reporter who threw gas on smoldering cinders, Jon Carlisle, was loving every second of the media circus.

  As if my thoughts summoned him, his face popped onto the screen. It appeared most were more interested in what he had to say about the matter, than hearing it straight from any of our mouths. It shouldn’t have surprised me, though. After all, we’d spun more lies this week than I think I had in my entire life.

  “Mr. Carlisle, what fueled your thirst for justice when you attended yesterday’s press conference? You were absolutely fearless in the face of our nation’s most revered Ianites. I think the rest of the world is just as eager to hear your response as I am,” the newscaster asked.

  Carlisle donned a stoic gaze before replying. “It had nothing to do with fearlessness,” he began. “I’m simply a proud citizen of the Lydian Dynasty who demands the certitude and uprightness of the four reigning monarchs. That is neither an ambitious pursuit, nor is it unreasonable. It is our right as a people.”

  “Oh, give it a rest already,” Levi scoffed, propping his feet on the dining room table. “We all know he’s doing this to get laid.”

  Julian laughed from
his seat across the table, but Roman had been quiet and stone-faced all morning.

  “Or perhaps others aren’t as motivated by sex as you are,” I suggested. After speaking, I reached for the remote to turn up the volume a bit.

  “Pity. They’d be far less temperamental if they were,” Levi muttered into a glass of wine. I shook my head as he finished off the last of it.

  Apparently, it was never too early for that in his opinion.

  “So, enlighten us please, Mr. Carlisle,” the newscaster went on to add. “What, in your opinion, is going on here?”

  The camera switched to him again and we sat waiting in silence.

  “Well, Natalie, I think what’s going on here speaks to this new generation’s dangerous infatuation with humanity. I believe the princes simply got too close to a girl who can only be described as toxic, and they’ve now had to go to extremes to save their own skin.”

  When Jon finished explaining, you could have heard a pin drop in Julian’s dining room. Even the servers who’d been working diligently to fill the table with an elaborate spread had stopped to listen.

  “If I’m hearing you correctly,” Natalie continued, “you don’t believe in this blood bond they spoke of?”

  Jon shook his head fervently before Natalie had even spoken the full statement. “Not for one bit,” he concluded. “It’s all smoke and mirrors for whatever’s really going on. Mark my words—the truth will be brought to light soon enough. Even if I’m the one who has to expose it.”

  Natalie’s eyes stretched wide with Jon’s claim, and she turned to the camera to close out the interview.

  “There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. If there is a hidden truth to be revealed, we can count on Jon Carlisle to uncover it.”

  The air became thick in the room. Thick enough to choke on it.

  “Turn it off.”

  Roman’s deep voice grumbled, bringing my attention to my left, where he was seated. A dark gaze was set on the screen, and when no one acted quickly enough, his tone turned thunderous.

  “Turn it off!”

  A frightened server rushed to the wall-mounted television and did what was commanded of her. The three of us stared as Roman’s gaze stayed trained on the dark screen.