Eternally Bound

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “It’s beautiful,” Tatiana whispered in awe.

  Leandro paused, frowning slightly at the pleasure in her voice. He took her arm with a growl and roughly led her forward, up the stairs to the front door. His fingers were cold against her arm, even through the wool of her simple dress. The door opened by the mere motion of the vampire’s hand and he dragged her into the gorgeous marble-lined hall.

  Leandro paused, and she saw his eyes roam around his home, taking it all in as if it were the first time he’d looked at it. She felt a contentment enter him, which he quickly hid from her.

  “The household had no warning that I would bring a guest, so there is no chamber ready,” Leandro stated with an emotionless mask over his features. “You will sleep in my chamber tonight.”

  Tatiana stiffened, causing him to laugh.

  “Bella donna,” he scolded. His hands threaded behind his back, and he looked so much the handsome gentleman. “Have you not slept by my side for nearly a month? Are you afraid your will against me is weakening? I know how passionate witches are, especially those with such gifts as yours. You are a natural creature. Your body feeds off that which is around you. But, sex and passion is the quickest way for you to churn your powers. It’s been a few months for you, eh? Is your power growing dim with nothing to feed it? I felt you trying to glean off me but I am dead, and my body can only offer you energy in two ways—directly through my blood, or through the milking of my male sex.”

  Leandro stepped up to her and lifted the back of his hand to her cheek. It was a rare gesture of tenderness, and it scared her. He stroked her lightly, his smile devilishly charming on his handsome face. Her body was treacherous with physical aching, but it longed for Marcello, not him. The coolness from his fingers soaked into her skin. His dark gaze lowered to her parted lips, and he leaned closer.

  Leandro’s mouth came to her cheek, brushing along her warm skin, as he whispered, “Would you like me to ease that ache in you, bella donna? I promise I can bring you as well as my brother. I will even let you scream out his name if that is your desire.”

  “You’re sick,” she whispered, not daring to jerk away from him.

  Leandro threw back his head and laughed. His lips parted at the sound, and his fangs glistened in the orange glow of the torch and candlelight of the hall. He turned to her, gripping her on the arms and lifting her up before him. Their bodies rose to hover several feet above the ground, and he held them there easily.

  “How long did you resist my brother before you spread your legs for him?” Leandro asked in a low, bitter tone. His eyes again moved to take in her face, caressing her with his heated gaze. “How long will you make me wait until you do the same, witch?”

  “You...I thought we…?” she whispered, thinking of that dreadful night Marcello had discovered her in Leandro’s arms.

  “If I fucked you, bella donna, you would remember it.” Leandro snarled, almost cruelly. “You would still feel it the next morning in your battered thighs.”

  Tatiana gasped. She tried to wiggle out of his arms. He gripped tighter, bruising her. He was being deliberately cruel. He tried to scare her, perhaps tried a little too hard. A true monster wouldn’t threaten. He would take. Or was he just playing with her? Enjoying his threats before he finally had his way with her?

  “Let me go, Leandro,” she whispered, stopping in her struggles to hang like a dead weight. “You are home now. You have no use for me. Just, let me go.”

  “I have much use for you,” he said in foreboding. A feminine shriek of alarm sounded beneath them, echoing in the hall. They ignored it. His hand lifted, stroking with mock adoration over Tatiana’s face as his eyes swirled with dark passions. “You are my vengeance.”

  “You were human once, Leandro.” Tatiana’s face pleaded with him, though her tone was soft. “Have you no feeling left in you?”

  “Ah, but I’ve been a vampire longer,” he chuckled, much amused by her defense. “How can I explain? If you worked one day of your life shoveling dung, would that make you a dung shoveler for an eternity?”

  “Another one of your beloved sayings?” Tatiana spat, snarling back at him. “Wherever can I write this down?”

  “My lord?”

  Tatiana and Leandro’s eyes turned down to the floor. A nervous young woman, no older than sixteen, stood there. Her auburn hair was pulled neatly back from her very white face. She trembled violently, eyeing the floating couple. Tears poured over her cheeks.

  “I...I was told,” the girl mumbled with a thick Irish accent. She made a weak sound. “I was told I must let you...drink my...feed.”

  “Go away!” Leandro roared, his voice sounding as if the devil were carried in it. “I have no use for you tonight.”

  The girl jolted in alarm and took off running the way she’d come. Tatiana felt the girl’s fear but also her relief. When Leandro’s eyes turned back to her, she said mockingly, “You act like quite the god, don’t you, Leandro? The all-powerful vampire having little girls brought before him like human sacrifices. Tell me, for I have yet to see you take a grown man with your fangs. Can all you do is frighten women and children?”

  Leandro snarled at her. Then, glancing down, he grinned, an evil, wicked look of malice. Tatiana’s eyes widened right before he let her go. Her body fell onto the solid marble floor with a loud smack. She lay there, sore but not broken, glaring up at the vampire who floated contemptuously above her.

  Chapter Fifty

  Marcello looked around the dark mountain ranges of Tuscany. They looked as he’d remembered them, though he had not seen them since the time immediately after his rebirth. Some of the old houses were there, altered a bit by time and generations, but still standing in ruins. Other things had changed, a paving of an old country road where he used to race his horse against Leandro, trees where an old cottage had been, modernized buildings that detracted from the beauty he’d known in his human youth.

  A chill swept through him and he turned to Alice with a grimace. The spirit simply wouldn’t leave him be. If he wasn’t mistaken, the transparent face glowered back at him. Usually, Alice was serene, merely fading and materializing next to him at odd moments, never speaking. He’d grown used to her, finding bored amusement in swiping his hand through her, until she would get so irritated that she would leave him alone. Once, in a fit of frustration over just having missed Tatiana and Leandro, he threw a vase at her head. She’d disappeared for a week, and he had almost doubted she would return to him. But return she did, keeping her distance.

  It was odd, seeing his homeland after nearly a century of being away. But, even after so long a time, he could still feel the connection his spirit had to the land. The fertile soil was in his bones, the fresh mountain air in his blood, and neither time nor death could take it from him. He felt the land of his mortal youth calling out to him, welcoming him back. Marcello sighed. The vampire had finally come home.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Tatiana’s jade eyes stared listlessly into the large mirror before her. The cream-colored gown Leandro gave her to wear sent a wave of apprehension over her. Beneath the rich silk, over the thin chemise, she wore a tight corset reinforced with stiff whalebone. A maid had laced it up the back, so tightly that she was sure she was going to faint.

  The bodice was square and deep, leaving nothing of her cleavage to the imagination. The back of the gown was simple, with a long cape-like piece of material flowing from the square-cut neckline to the floor, giving no hint of her shape from the back view. The sleeves were tight from shoulder to elbow, fanning out in silk pleats over the top of the forearm. It was an antiquated style, one she remembered from her vision of Marcello’s past.

  The large, belled skirt fanned out from her hips. It was heavy, and she felt weighed down by the numerous petticoats, which were held out to the sides with a hooped support of bent wood. The gown’s skirt was decorated with elaborate pleats of silk. Due to the unfamiliar shape of the skirt, Tatiana was afraid she would have to w
alk sideways through the narrow doors of the castle’s upper level, lest she became wedged between the frames.

  Tatiana turned her eyes, watching the silent maid’s old wrinkled hands on her hair. She’d stuck a pad beneath the locks, building them high up on top and pinning tight curls to the side in horizontal rows. The maid was human as was all of Leandro’s staff. The servants didn’t seem to mind their place within his home. It was a curious thing. Whereas they showed no pleasure in their master, they also showed no fear. None of them spoke to her above a few polite words. Occasionally, they would look at her with a curiosity that they soon hid beneath their blank gazes.

  Tatiana grimaced at her reflection. She lifted her fingers to touch her pale face, made even more so by the dark contrast of her hair. She felt like a porcelain doll, dressed up for the vampire who now controlled her like a child commands a new toy, with fascination and selfish pleasure.

  “Leave.”

  Tatiana jumped up in surprise at the command. Only then did she realize the maid was finished with her hair. The woman curtsied and walked from the room without a backward glance. Leandro’s eyes were expressionless as he let them roam over her attire. Slowly, he nodded.

  “What sport is this?” Tatiana asked.

  Instead of answering, his eyes turned to the bright fireplace casting an orange glow about his bedchamber. Though he bid Tatiana to fall asleep by his side during the day, he had yet to force himself on her. Instead of a master bed, there was a large coffin upon a platform. She’d been shocked to see it, though what else should she have expected?

  A large fur rug lined the stone floor, a chamber that was richly designed with medieval influences. Unlike the rest of his home, this room still had the appearance of what it once was, the chambers of a long dead Lord of the Manor. Instead of paper or paint, the walls were lined with dark blue tapestries, woven with designs of golden thread.

  “It is almost time,” Leandro whispered, a small look of hesitance coming to his face when he turned back to her. The declaration brought him little pleasure, and she was sure she saw a little pity in his dark eyes. “Ah, bella donna, how beautiful you look like that.”

  Tatiana frowned.

  “Come here, before the fire. I wish to take a closer look at you,” Leandro said.

  Tatiana’s frown deepened. “Your vampiric eyes can see me just fine.”

  “Come,” he ordered, harshly. “I will have you dance with me.”

  Tatiana knew there was little escaping his bidding. Still, she didn’t move. There was something about the way he observed her with sadness and regret.

  “Come, so that I may finally release you.”

  Tatiana wondered at the cryptic way the words came from him. His long dark hair was pulled back from his face. His eyes swirled with green as he tried to read her. She held her mind closed to him. Slowly, she took a step forward and then another. Stopping, she stood before him on the rug.

  “Discontinue the pretense. We both know you don’t mean to dance with me,” Tatiana said.

  “You are right, bella donna,” Leandro said. He lifted his hand to caress her pale cheek. A small sound came from his throat. “How beautiful.”

  Tatiana turned her eyes toward the fire so she wouldn’t have to look at him. It was a mistake.

  Leandro’s eyes turned a blood red as he saw her neck. His lips parted, revealing his fangs, and he struck the thin layer of her flesh, piercing through it with razor sharpness. Instantly, he began to drink, pulling deeply against her with this mouth.

  Tatiana gasped in surprise at the suddenness of the harsh attack. There was no pleasure in his deep hold. His hands gripped into her arms as she tried to push away. A whimper of surprise left her throat. Leandro drank deep and strong, sucking her life in large gulps of blood. The strength of her struggle soon turned into weak thumps against his solid chest. The light began to fade from her eyes, and she knew she was going to die.

  Leandro drank deeply, draining her life with a swift skill and speed that only a century of death could bring. Only when her limbs dropped listlessly to her sides, did he stop. His mouth opened wide as he felt the pleasure of her blood inside him, so potent and strong, making his body rage with powerful emotions. She hung in his arms, her mouth slack. Gently, he laid her body on the floor. Her heart still beat in his ears, so faint and light.

  Tatiana looked up at him from her place on the fur rug. She saw her face reflected clearly in the liquid depths of his red eyes. She felt the sticky blood on her throat, trailing along her skin in slow, slithering paths. His mouth was red, a testament to his rough feeding. He had not taken it easy on her as he had in the past. Fire burned from the wound, and she wanted to cry, but she couldn’t form the tears. She was helpless, feeling her heart become faint. Her lungs expanded, using every last bit of energy she had left to keep moving up and down in shallow pants.

  “I am truly sorry for this, bella donna,” Leandro whispered, his voice hoarse with the demon inside him. His eyes, still full of her blood, looked odd in their tenderness as he stroked her hair from her face. “But you will die in his arms as she died in mine. Only your death will be gentler, for I could never force that pain on you.”

  Her rasping breath was his only answer. Leandro frowned in confusion. His eyes darted to the doorway.

  “Where is he, bella donna? Why does he not come to save you?” Leandro looked down at her in question. In outrage, he growled at her. “You block the way from him? Why?”

  A slight smile tugged her lips in response.

  “Argh,” Leandro screamed. “You will not deny me my revenge. I have waited too long for him to feel the pain as I have. Call to him. Call him to you!”

  Tatiana refused, and he knew it.

  “Then you leave me no choice.”

  Tatiana’s smile faded. Leandro’s mouth, still stained with her blood, ripped into the flesh at his wrist. Tatiana tried to rouse, but she was too close to death to move. She felt the peace of it calling to her and she wasn’t scared of it. But, as Leandro thrust his pale skin to her mouth, she became terrified. The blood poured down her throat, and at first, she couldn’t even choke on it. Her body welcomed him inside her as her mind rejected and hated him.

  Suddenly, she gagged. The will to live became so strong that she began to drink insatiably, feeling herself returned by his blood, empowered by it. She became mindless in the rush of pleasure and feeling. Her fingers gripped onto him. Her red eyes met with his dimming ones. His lips opened, and he shouted in dark pleasure as her lips suckled him.

  With a growl, Leandro pulled his wrist away from her to cradle it in his arms. The gash slowly healed. He stepped back, watching Tatiana. At first, she merely laid on the rug, gaping at him, hands on her chest as she gasped for breath.

  Pain shot through Tatiana’s body, and she screamed in agony. The intensity of it took her by surprise. Her limbs shook, convulsing violent and strong. The door burst open, and her eyes flew to it. Marcello stood before her, looking as he did in Paris, so handsome, just as she remembered him. Her eyes took him in, drinking as heavily of the sight of him, as her lips had of Leandro’s blood.

  She saw his eyes round in confusion, taking in her quivering body and bloodied neck before moving to study Leandro. Leandro bowed to him, turned his back, and walked to the narrow slit of a window.

  Marcello rushed forward to kneel by Tatiana. His pale face filled with horror as he looked at her. She screamed again. He grabbed her hand and began to murmur soothing sounds to her, incoherent thoughts of comfort and helplessness. Then, turning to glare at his brother, he demanded in their native tongue, “What did you do, Leandro?”

  “She is dying,” Leandro said in kind, though his words were a contrasting calm. “Don’t you remember the look of death, my brother? Has it been so long that you could’ve forgotten it? Now we are even.”

  “You call this even?” Marcello growled. Tatiana’s screams began to lessen as her organs died one by one until only her heart was left beati
ng. Her lungs stopped filling with breath. “You call this just?”

  “I will let you have your moment with her. Use it well. For when she turns completely, she’ll belong only to me. I am her master, and I will not relinquish the control of my benighted child. Please, feel free to use my coffin tonight. I am sure she would prefer to share it with you.”

  Marcello watched helplessly as Leandro left them alone. His stricken gaze turned down to Tatiana. He saw her dress, now stained with her blood. An eerie remembrance came over him of another time, another life, another death. The crimes of his past were visited upon him in this act. Finally, he was punished. Only Tatiana wouldn’t live in his memory. She would live in his dark world. It didn’t matter. Memory or benighted child to Leandro, either way, she may very well be lost to him. Leandro gave her the demon they all carried. How much of her would be left once it was done?

  “Marcello,” Tatiana’s pale lips whispered. She felt him on her hand, holding her. She felt his pain over what was happening to her. Suddenly, a vision flashed, and Marcello’s face dimmed. She saw the past.

  A long line of her ancestors gathered beneath the stars. A stone altar was before them, drenched with the blood of an immortal stretched and writhing upon it. She saw a carving of a bird on the base of the pedestal. She felt her ancestors inside her and was connected to her past once more.

  Long, auburn hair fell over the vampiress’ pale, beautiful features as she slowly turned to look at Tatiana. The immortal’s lips parted, screaming at the witches in an ancient language, cursing their bloodline.

  The power surged up around Tatiana, strong. But it drained quickly, and she knew that this was the moment the Addien powers went dormant. She felt cold as she watched the vampiress slowly turning into ash before them. Her ancestors lay on the ground, shivering, crying out in pain and loss. She felt it too, buried deep within her blood’s memory.