Karolina Dalca, Dark Eyes

by M. R. Noble

  I gained a deeper understanding of what Loukin meant. The hotel did indeed seem like a meeting place for people around the world. I looked to the group on my left and wondered if I was in the presence of politicians and royalty.

  “Okay, let’s go,” Ina said. She took two drinks from the bartender’s hands. By the time I had slipped out of my chair, she’d already started to snake her way through the crowd. She handed me a drink once I caught up with her. I raised it to my mouth and the sweet scent of human blood filled my nostrils. My fangs glided through the roof of my mouth. A nauseating hunger turned in my stomach. I lowered the cup from my lips. “Sorry, Ina,” I whispered. “I don’t drink human blood.”

  “Really? Never?” She raised a brow at my fangs. “Looks like you have a taste for it.”

  “Another vampire’s blood is different. I’m not preying on people.”

  Ina seized my arm, her mouth aghast. “No. Way.” She yanked me to the corner of the room. Her fingers were like steely pincers digging in between my muscles. I rubbed my arm.

  “How many?”

  “What?”

  “How many vampires have you drunk from? Better yet,” she hushed to a whisper. “Tell me who. Was it as good as they say?” Her eyes sparkled at me.

  “Just one. We ran into a situation where I needed blood. I figured drinking from a vampire wasn’t the same as drinking from a human.”

  “I bet it wasn’t.” Her grin widened. “Who? Who was it?”

  “Andre.”

  “Andre!” She cut her laugh short, then looked around. “I’ve heard he’s unrelenting.”

  “It’s no big deal,” I said. “Andre said it’s a solution all vampires use when there’s a shortage of blood.”

  “Oh dear,” she said. “That xep!” She shouted then dropped to a whisper. “Vampires don’t drink from other vampires. Not unless they want to bond. Very taboo. It’s supposed to be one of the most erotic experiences a vampire can have. If I’m bitten, it feels good. But a vampire on vampire, much different. They connect spiritually. It’s supposed to be epic, but there are side effects.”

  “Like feeling each others’ emotions?”

  She nodded at me.

  The look on Loukin’s face when we told him flashed through my mind, and my stomach turned. I held my forehead in my hand. “We told Loukin.”

  “How’d that go?”

  “He looked like he wanted to kill Andre.” I wouldn’t have shared intimate details with my mother, let alone my uncle that I just met. “This couldn’t be any worse.”

  “It’s for life.”

  “What!” My hands balled into fists.

  “When vampires bond, they’ve mated for life. Like a sexy marriage, but with no guests and a lot more blood.”

  I downed the cup in my hand. It tasted warm and sweet. Whoever donated the blood was happy. I, on the other hand, was the opposite. “Ina.” My hand shuddered as I put the cup down. “Take me to Andre. Now.”

  Her face paled. “Yup.”

  By the time we entered the room Ina said the men would be in, I shook with anger. I anticipated Andre to set himself up to benefit from my retrieval but tricking me into an erotic vampire union was beyond any actions I imagined he could resort to. My face burned with heat. The veins pulsed in my neck as I scanned the room.

  Andre and Roman stood by the bar. Andre threw his shot glass into the air and it collided with Roman’s spilling on the wood. The loud beat of the music masked the sounds of their laughter. The two of them tossed back two more drinks and held up their hands to the bartender for more. A woman leaned into Roman, with long blonde hair and eyes of blue; she tilted her angular face up and whispered in his ear.

  Bronwyn. I could have sworn it was her. I took a step forward, but a couple danced in front of Roman blocking my view. I looked to the side, but by the time my view was clear she was gone. I searched the room. She’d been here. The anger and frustration which steamed up inside of me made my skin crawl.

  Andre’s head turned to the door.

  I jumped back out of view and leaned against the wall. The nausea in my stomach grew stronger as I held the bridge of my nose. It couldn’t have been Bronwyn, Karo; you’re losing it. For once, my inner-self made perfect sense.

  “Do you want to get out of here?” Ina asked.

  I nodded.

  “Come on, I’ll show you where the women hang out.”

  Ina let me in on the loop, for the women, the place to be was the pool. She was easy to warm up to and she told me about her mother and little brother living in Canada. We had common ground there. They had been sponsored to go over and every month she sent half her paycheck to them. It added to the list of reasons why I admired her. On the way to the women’s dressing quarters, among the many features of the hotel, she had taken the time to show me the feeding area.

  Loukin had told me they had willing donors here, but I expected to find more of the desperate junkies I saw in Romania. The facility was clean, comfortable, and even provided a complimentary glass of champagne. Ina explained the people in the waiting room were pampered and showered with treats. The better their mood, the better the blood would taste. As we walked past the blood barrels in the storage area, I was reminded of a wine ageing cellar. To create a rare barrel of blood, the donor was asked to disclose their heart’s desire. If the hotel could grant it, they would, just before the moment of extraction.

  The smell of fresh blood carried our walk to the donor rooms. People were hooked up to machines which calculated and withdrew a non-threatening volume of blood. Afterwards, they were provided with snacks and a thick stack of cash. It was more humane than grabbing people from the streets like Kazimir’s men had at the parade. Loukin’s facility was ethical, and now I had seen it, I feared I would harbor a dangerous predilection for guilt-free blood.

  On the way to the pool we passed an ominous looking door. Thorny veins wound like snakes carved into the dark wood. By the way it was set into the floor it looked like it housed a staircase which plunged deep underground.

  “What’s down there?” I asked Ina.

  “We call it the snake pit. That’s where the ispolniteli get trained as new recruits. The ones who get deployed to hunt their own kind. Other vampires.”

  “You must not get a lot of volunteers.”

  “Most don’t volunteer. They either accept the position or spend months in the pit. Eventually, they all accept the position. People learn to fall in line around here.”

  Andre had been called a snake. He’d spoken about killing his own. He was an ispolniteli. A draft from below the door blew upward, chilling my skin.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  Ina arranged for a bathing suit for me. The women’s change rooms, of course, continued the gold theme. When I stepped out onto the warm patio stones, the poolside garden rustled in the breeze. The rose garden was overgrown and unruly. When its branches caught in the wind it looked to have grown a foot before it settled. Ina called me ahead and I followed her onto the pool deck.

  “This way.” She walked toward two chaises with a small table between them and a sign marked reserved. Ina had done more than show me around. She took time out of her day to cheer me up. I didn’t expect the extension of her friendship, but it was welcomed.

  We walked by a few men who were sprawled out in the sun with drinks, and the better-looking one eyed up the curves of my body as I passed.

  The next chaise was adorned with a naked woman, her legs fully parted. Her fangs glistened in the sun, along with a piercing between her legs. The redness of her most delicate region a clear cry for shade. I averted my gaze. She laughed.

  Her companion, also bikiniless, sipped blood while she rubbed sunscreen onto her breast. The man beside her, completely unaffected by their nakedness, reviewed their plans for the evening.

  I lay down and Ina took out two sunhats from her bag.

  “It’s time for drinks.” She held up her hand for the waiter’s attention.


  “Won’t argue you.”

  Ina turned and glanced at the men. “He’s the king of Peru,” she whispered.

  “Really?” I looked over again and caught him looking our way.

  “Well, king of the vampire underground in Peru.”

  I ordered a blood to start. My animal blood diet was derailed the moment I drank a glass of human blood upon the news of my marital union. The blood’s sweet, sticky taste wasn’t as intoxicating as Andre’s blood, but it helped to numb my rage.

  A man lowered a silver tray to me. “Printsessa.”

  I took my second glass of blood and raised a brow at Ina in hopes of a translation.

  “Princess,” she said.

  The whole time Andre had been calling me ‘princess,’ I thought it was his nickname for me. He meant it literally. It hadn’t clicked until now, if my father had been a king—I would be a princess.

  “Spasiba,” I said to the waiter.

  Champagne was my second drink and my third. I rolled my shoulders and focused on the warmth of the sun on my skin. As I relaxed, my mind did too, and with the relaxation snippets of Andre’s deception slipped by my mental blocks. I forced myself to think about Roman instead. He’d also lied to me.

  The experience of being a werewolf swamped my memory. My strength had been incredible, but the beastly need to devour took over my freewill. It had been worse than any blood craving I ever had. All this time, Roman suppressed the beast, every moment of every day. A shiver clawed up my spine, which not even the warm sun could dispel. I now understood what he meant during our night in the woods, when he feared he would consume me.

  Andre had consumed me. I let him drink my blood. Taste my soul. Entering into an act so intimate, with a man I’d just met was a gamble far more unnerving than my indiscretion with Roman’s monster. I dipped my fingers in the pool and swirled them in the water. Trust me, he’d said. I let him touch my body, bond with my soul, and he’d used me. The blood and alcohol in my stomach churned into my mouth.

  “Karolina,” Ina whispered.

  The anger in my chest reared, burning the vomit taste in my mouth.

  “Karolina!”

  I flicked my eyes open and glared at her. “What!”

  She nodded to the pool beside me.

  I turned my head and noticed a curtain of steam. I looked down and saw the pool water bubbling around my hand. Nearby a woman cowered in the corner, trying to get away from the patch of water I’d raised to boil.

  I gasped and yanked my hand from the water. “Shit! I’m so sorry!”

  The woman looked at me wide-eyed.

  “So sorry!” I looked at Ina. “I can’t be here. I need to blow off some steam.”

  “Steam, really?”

  I rolled my eyes. “No pun intended. You must have a training room of some kind?”

  “We do.”

  “Great. Where am I going?”

  “I’ll have the king of Peru show you.” Her eyes did that spark thing again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fight It Out

  I opened the training room doors and walked down the steps. It was a large, square room. The high ceilings rose up from massive stone pillars which framed the sunken floor. An assortment of weapons lined the walls behind the pillars, giving the room an air of a medieval armory.

  I inhaled the silence of the empty room, finding a moment of calmness. Then, I dove into a lunge and drove my hand into a fist. I flowed through each move of my martial arts routine. At the last second of every graceful position, my body flexed, and within the moment of force exertion, I dispelled a tiny piece of my anger. As I continued to fight my imaginary opponents, my senses electrified, and my thoughts dulled.

  The sound of a sword unsheathing rang out through the room.

  I tensed and spun around. The room was empty. I studied each pillar, waiting for a person to jump out.

  A voice spoke in Russian, echoing into the square. “Show yourself!” I called.

  A man stepped out from behind a pillar with a sword in hand. He had dark hair and an angular face. “I would know your style of fighting anywhere. You’re a Dalca.” His gaze grazed my necklace. “And Aleksandr’s heir.” He readied his sword. “Attack.”

  “You have a sword. The match is hardly fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair. So, you must attack it.”

  “Sparring against a sword unarmed is suicide.”

  He charged, swinging the blade down to my shoulder. I dove to the ground and rolled. He slashed at my belly as I sprang up to my feet. I jumped back avoiding the range of his sword and an attempt to sweep my feet. My feet hit the ground. I thrust my hands upward and caught his forearm midair, halting the sword. “Listen, bud—”

  His other hand hammered into the side of my ribs.

  The wind was knocked out of me. My teeth ground. I didn’t retreat but dropped a hand to seize his other wrist. With all my strength, I yanked his free arm across my abdomen, twisting his torso. I had both wrists. I hauled him backward onto my flexed knee and rammed it into his spine.

  He grunted in shock. His sword rattled to the ground.

  I glided back from him putting distance between us. He kneeled to the ground for a moment, clearly feeling the injury. Then he rose, looking exhilarated. “Good. Very good.”

  “You weren’t so bad yourself.” I panted. “But if you come any closer it’s going to get really fiery in here.” I’m usually up for a good sparring session, but this man was more than a little overzealous. I called up my vampiric agility for stamina.

  “My name is Gerel Petrov.” He laid a hand over his chest and bowed. “I trained your father and lived in the shadow of your mother’s father.”

  “And the sword you use?”

  “Mongolian.”

  “You have a Russian last name.”

  He sliced his sword through the air in a figure eight. “I am both Mongolian and Russian.” He reset his sword into position. “Shall we go again? You can show me what other Dalca tricks you’ve inherited.”

  “I can, eh?” I tossed my chin up. “Where’s your technique inherited from?”

  “The origin of my technique is a secret you have yet to discover. Much like the purpose of the crown jewel you wear.”

  My hand clutched my pendent.

  “He wants it, you know.” He paced forward. “And I think you are not the type to give up what is yours so easily.”

  I glided back.

  “If so, then you must protect yourself, little Nabokov.”

  He dove toward me again, and we began a dance in which only two martial artists could engage.

  ****

  Hours later, I beaded with sweat. Exhilaration was pounding through my veins. There were moments in our training when I almost called Gerel Grandpa, out of habit of all the years I trained with Grandpa Dalca. My time with Gerel had been intense, but fun. With a few of his words, all my experiences with the Fire Charm clicked into place.

  My family had kept fire lessons short: don’t use it. I knew my emotions made my fire hard to control, but he’d confirmed the magic stemmed from my spirt. Fire users were rare due to a massive genocide of our kind. Society had decided such power was too dangerous to be put at the whim of the human emotion. When one factors in the volatile ups and downs of a vampire’s mood, especially at night—it was catastrophic. Only select Royal families had managed to hold onto the fire genes, though it’d be possible for the genes to resurface again.

  Gerel had taught me to focus on both my emotions and target. If my feelings overwhelmed me, my fire would do the same. If I pictured what I wanted to strike and held the image in my head, I could focus my fire into a precise attack, like the wick of the candle Loukin lit when we first met. The pitfall was I had to maintain focus, which wasn’t an attribute of mine.

  When Gerel left the training room, I opted to stay and continue my practice. I found a music player set into the stone wall and selected a top forty station on the radio. Techno dominated the dance
chart favorites in Russia, and the combination of music and endorphins had me feeling renewed.

  Andre walked through the training room doors.

  I kept going with my training routine like he wasn’t there. My fist flew out for a punch so hard, my knuckles cracked.

  He turned the volume down and sat down on the steps. “Hey. Can we talk?”

  I continued through the motions, but my balance teetered. “I’m busy.”

  “I have some explaining to do.”

  “You do?” I round housed my imaginary opponent, and decided I blew him into oblivion. “I’m surprised, I thought pawns didn’t get explanations.” My fist flew out like rapid fire. “You know, since they’re busy being used by another for their own purpose.” I pivoted and slammed into another strike.

  He rose and crossed the distance between us. “Can you stop?”

  “No. Move.” I shouldered past him, but his hand extended to my lower stomach, stopping me.

  “The goal was to find you. Prove myself…if we could bond then I would ensure my new position.”

  I shoved him. “I don’t want to talk!”

  He grasped my outstretched hands and pinning them against his chest. “I wasn’t prepared for how I would feel about you.”

  I twisted his hands out to the side.

  “Or how Miruna restored a lost part of my soul.”

  I twisted farther. He let go, but he closed the foot of distance between us and pressed against me. His hand gripped my back and slid up into my hair. His weight bore into me, causing me to stumble backward up the steps and against a pillar.

  “You used me.”

  “I know,” he said. “I wasn’t whole.” Smoothly, like the unseen force of a magnet, his face drew close, and then halted, restraint leaving him teetering just before my mouth.

  The anger I had bottled up inside of me dissolved—leaving only my swirling stomach. Blood rushed to my skin, increasing the feel of his touch. Like he felt my heartrate spike, he leaned deeper against my hips, cupping my face in his hands. His cologne filled the short span of air.

  “Please,” he whispered. “I don’t want to fight.” He took the wall he had between us down. The sensation of his affection flooded into me, starting at my toes, and crowning at my head. “If I could go back in time, I would change the way I treated you. But I wouldn’t change being with you.”