Eternally Bound

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Tatiana gasped, convulsing again as she tried to break free. But the vision wasn’t finished with her yet. No longer was she in the past, but the future, a far distant future with tall structures and strange moving lights. It was daytime, bright and sunny. Her head spun, and she smelled a strange smoke that choked her lungs.

  Giant photographs, strange in their lifelike colors, lined a long paved road with painted lines. The women grinned provocatively, as they smiled down from above, indecently clad in less than a corset and chemise. Long meaningless phases were painted underneath the portraits. The streets were filled with inexplicably dressed humans, marching between the tall buildings and the moving street. Suddenly, someone stopped walking and looked right at her.

  Tatiana’s heart stopped. It was the vampiress. She was very much alive and in daylight. But, how? Tatiana felt herself trying to walk after her, but the woman began to run. When Tatiana gave chase, the vision disappeared, and she was left staring at Marcello’s concerned eyes.

  “It is only a vision,” Marcello soothed weakly. His fingers hovered helplessly over her as if afraid to touch her. “They happen to us all when we are reborn. Try to remember it, bella mia.”

  Tatiana’s lips opened, but no words came out. Her body shot forward as she vomited on the fur rug. It wasn’t much as she hadn’t eaten that night. Marcello let her stomach empty of the last of her human food before pulling her into his arms.

  Her limbs were too weak to cling to him, so she just let him hold her, as she hung limply like a rag doll.

  “It is almost over,” he soothed, pulling pins from her hair. The dark waves spilled over her shoulders once more, and he removed the padding that held it high. “Almost over.”

  Tatiana didn’t move, merely stared insensibly over his shoulder. Her neck was healing itself, but she didn’t feel it, didn’t feel anything but the numbing after effects of an agonizing death.

  Marcello lifted her skirts, pulling at the wooden petticoat support until it came free. She didn’t need to breathe anymore, so he left the corset. Then, lifting her weak body in his arms, he laid her down in Leandro’s coffin. She was limp and did not protest though her dazed green eyes followed his every movement.

  Going to the bloody fur rug, he rolled it up and set it outside the bedroom door. Without a word, for he couldn’t speak, he crawled in beside her and pulled her into his arms. Her eyes closed as he gently bid her to find her rest. It was early yet in the night, but he knew he wouldn’t be leaving her alone, not like this, not when she needed him.

  Kissing her forehead, he whispered, “I am sorry, bella mia, so very sorry.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  It was Marcello’s strong arms that held her. Tatiana had missed him so much, and now he had her close to him. It didn’t matter that her body lay dying in his arms or that she’d changed. She didn’t care. He was back, and he was with her. It was all that mattered.

  Tatiana felt whole again. Her body was calm, her power settled. She never realized how lost she felt when he wasn’t near. Her life had carried the same lethargy that had settled over her during those two years when she was parted from him at Eastwich. She realized it now. Without him she was numb. Trying to open her eyes, she felt a strange weariness in her limbs.

  “I am dead,” she thought, as she saw Marcello’s eyes in the dark tomb of the coffin. Every detail was as clear as day, and she drank it in.

  “Yes, bella mia,” he answered, hearing her thoughts. “You are dead.”

  “I’ve missed you.” Tatiana blinked, unable to move her frozen lips.

  Marcello’s answering look was sad. “Forgive me.”

  “There is nothing to forgive. This was my fate. I know that now. This was the fate of my line. The evil will return, and I must be there to fight it. She’ll walk in daylight.”

  “You saw this?” His nose edged closer to hers. Aside from his whispered voice, the coffin was silent. Her breath no longer stirred between them.

  “Yes, I saw it. I was cursed before I even met you, cursed by my own blood, cursed by an ancient spell to become what I am now. But, it is I who am sorry, Marcello. I never knew you could feel. I didn’t understand the helplessness you must have felt in that moment of death and undeath. You truly have no choice. The body wishes to live, to drink of the demon. It doesn’t wait for permission.” As she thought it, Tatiana felt another voice scratching to get in her mind. She pushed it away. She was with Marcello. All she wanted to see was his face. All she wanted was to feel his body, hear only his voice. “Can you forgive me for judging you?”

  “There is nothing to forgive,” he whispered. His hand roamed over her hip. He wanted her so badly, had missed her so much.

  “How did you find me here?”

  “Alice came to me. She led me to the lycan den where you were held captive,” he said. “I tried to come for you, but there were too many of them. They locked me away in a prison. Domin told me Leandro had you. I knew he would come here. He always comes here.”

  “And yet, you don’t.”

  “No, until now, I have not.” Marcello touched her paling cheek. Her body was cold but did not shiver. “I am sorry I couldn’t save you from this, from Broderick or Leandro, from Domin. What did they do to you?”

  “You couldn’t have saved me. It was my fate to go and so I went. If not Broderick and Leandro, I would’ve gone another way. This life is my curse, not your doing. My destiny was sealed long before my birth, long still before your death. Domin helped me. He gave me his blood and balanced me and now I am connected to him.”

  Tatiana’s wide green eyes studied him. She tried to smile but failed.

  “A vampire connected to a lycan?” Marcello’s lids dipped over his gaze in thought.

  Tatiana could detect subtle hints of an expression, little changes unknown to her human eyes, but now unmistakable. He was hurt, sad, worried. “What is it?”

  “The vampires and the lycans merely tolerate each other, but they are most certainly not friends. I wouldn’t reveal what you are to anyone, Tatiana. It could put you in danger. Some of the old will not take kindly to you being connected to the lycan. They remember the old wars and bear no favor with the wolfen kind.”

  “Lycan. Vampire. Witch.” The sardonic laughter was in her thoughts, bitter and cold. “Which one of us is the demon now?”

  “You are no demon, bella mia. Don’t think it,” he whispered.

  Tatiana tried to nod her head, hearing the desperation in his voice. She didn’t know what she was anymore, only that she was trapped in a place between life and death, a place that she would remain for an eternity. Her eyes drifted closed, and soon she welcomed the dreamless black sleep of a corpse.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Tatiana flinched. Something bit at her lip and the flavor of blood had entered her mouth before she was even fully awake. With a light moan of pleasure, she stirred, swallowing the blood. One hand hit the solid edge of a coffin, and the other found the steel-like muscles of a chest. Almost instantly, she gasped.

  “Marcello?” she breathed. She licked her lips, feeling the poke of her fangs. She’d bitten her own lip. Her blood had a strange, but gratifying taste to it and she again swallowed. Instantly, her body cried out for more. “Are you really here?”

  Tatiana’s fingers crept up his sturdy chest. Her eyes pierced through the darkness, and she saw every detail of him. Feeling his cheek, she pushed the long brown hair from his face. He was turned toward her. His hand was on her hip, massaging her gently.

  “Sì, bella mia.”

  Tatiana fell forward, pressing her body against him, gripping him to her. He was as she remembered, so strong. Her skin tingled, and she felt him like never before. She was too weak to act on her impulses. “You came. Leandro said you wouldn’t come for me that you would never come to Italy. I’m sorry I ran away from you. There was a lycan, Broderick, and he had some powder that...anyway, it smelled like flowers, and I couldn’t resist it. But, we spoke of Broderick
last night, or was it a dream? It’s so fuzzy. I can’t remember it all. But, you came. You came. I hoped that you would.”

  “How could I not come?” he whispered into her hair, breathing in her scent. He could smell the dried blood on her, the musk of the grave so new to her flesh. The knowledge that he’d not been there in time to save her from her fate ate at him.

  Tatiana misunderstood his cold tone. She pulled back, hurt. “Yes, my lord, of course. You had to come and retrieve your slave, didn’t you now? It was a matter of honor. Leandro—”

  “Don’t say his name to me,” Marcello growled. “I don’t wish to hear what it is you have don—”

  The coffin lid being lifted stopped his words. Leandro stood over them, grinning devilishly. “Ah, brother, thank you for looking after my woman for me. I do so hate the first night of changing. It is so...unbearably dramatic.”

  “I am not your woman,” Tatiana spat, pushing up from the coffin’s depths. Her head felt as if it spun about on her shoulders and she held completely still until the queasiness passed. Her limbs were full of a strength she’d never known. Her eyes focused too quickly, seeing too much. In an easier tone, she said, “I am nothing to you.”

  “Oh,” Leandro said, his tone mocking in its gentleness. He reached his hand out to caress her cheek.

  Marcello’s fingers shot up as he latched his hand to his brother’s wrist, stopping Leandro from touching her. His nails dug into cold flesh. Little droplets of blood dripped down, from the wound he’d made on Leandro’s arm, onto his face. Neither brother flinched. Their matching eyes locked in silent battle.

  “You look hungry, brother. You should’ve eaten last night,” Leandro said calmly. “Open your lips. I will be happy to feed my guest.”

  “She is mine. I found her. I made her my slave. She is bound to me until the end of her days,” Marcello growled. “Don’t touch her again.”

  “I made her. She is my benighted child. I am her master until I release her, brother,” Leandro spat. “She is no longer human. Her slavery has ended.”

  Tatiana slowly tried to edge away from them. Their eyes glittered almost black, filling in until no white was left. Their fangs were bared, ready to strike out. Red trails ran over Marcello’s pale cheek. As she started to climb over the side of the coffin, both sets of dark eyes turned to her. Both eyes were equally possessive in their claim to her. She shivered, pausing only briefly before leaping out of the coffin. She was weak and fell to the floor instead of landing gracefully on her feet. Her voice was hoarse, as she shot, “I don’t belong to either of you. Not anymore.”

  From her hands and knees, she looked up at them. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, so dark against her nearly white skin. Her green eyes shone like two beacons, so very captivating in their depths. Her lips were red, almost crimson.

  Marcello dropped Leandro’s arm and moved from the coffin, hopping out. Brother stood by brother, in front of her. Their faces were flawless reflections of each other, save for the drops of blood on Marcello’s pale face. Even their clothes were the same in cut and fashion—Marcello’s waistcoat in blood red, Leandro’s waistcoat in dark blue. She thought it strange that they would dress in the opposite manner of their human selves, for, on their last day alive, Leandro had worn red and Marcello blue. She wondered if it meant anything and then decided it was only a coincidence.

  The only other difference between the twins was the style of their hair. Leandro tied his dark locks back to the nape and Marcello let his hang long about his shoulders.

  Tatiana saw their demonic eyes and wondered at it. She looked down. Dried blood stained the cream gown at the shoulder from where Leandro had taken her life. Without the petticoat support beneath it, her skirt fell limp around her hips, dragging on the floor.

  A strangeness was in her body as she looked at them, something she couldn’t control. She was hungry, aroused. She wanted to feel Marcello inside her. She wanted Leandro to feed her. She wanted them both to drink of her. She looked at one brother and then the other. They were both handsome. They were both connected to her—Leandro by the dark gift, Marcello by her heart and soul. Both were equally powerful bonds. Without thought, she felt her body drawing them forward, beckoning them to her side.

  Both brothers stepped to her at the same time, coming to her slowly, in question, in anticipation, in anger, in jealousy and desire. They felt each other without touching, a circle that bound them together, not in love, but in something deeper. It was a bond of fate, destiny, death and blood, in the undeniable eventuality that such things had no choice but to come to pass. They were eternally linked in such a way that nothing could sever the tie.

  Tatiana was confused. She did not love Leandro though she couldn’t bring herself to hate him. Whatever past deed spurred him to revenge, she knew she already forgave him for it. He’d been as helpless as she. If any were to blame, it was her ancestors for sealing her fate long ago. They’d turned her into a vampire with their deeds. She was a witch by birthright, and a vampire by destiny. Her eyes closed and her lips parted to reveal her new fangs.

  “You can’t have us both,” Marcello stated. Though their voices were the same, she knew the brooding in him well.

  “Then she will have me, for she is mine,” Leandro stated. His voice was lighter, almost pleasant in its boredom.

  “She was mine first. You know the tribal laws. You may not take another’s bound,” Marcello said. “She has sworn herself to me for the rest of her days.”

  Leandro’s chuckle sounded over the room. “And you also know the laws. I turned her. Therefore, she is my responsibility until I relinquish her.”

  “Relinquish her to me. I will train her.” Marcello stepped forward, reaching out to touch Tatiana’s cheek. Her eyelids fluttered, and she looked at him. Her gaze filled with red. She was hungry.

  Tatiana barely heard them. Her lips parted wider, and she turned toward Marcello’s wrist. He stopped stroking her cheek as she bit into him. He held still, letting her taste him. A light moan came from her lips. The taste of him filled her mouth, and she sucked greedily. The connection between them grew stronger.

  “How does she drink of vampiric blood?” Leandro asked stepping forward. “Such a thing shouldn’t be possible, not to such an amount, and certainly not by one so new.”

  At his words, Tatiana broke her hold on Marcello. He too looked confused by what she had done. Her eyes were completely crimson with his essence. Her fangs almost seemed longer, sharper, deadlier.

  “She is strong, different,” Marcello said. “Perhaps that is why she can drink of me.”

  Tatiana gave Leandro’s hand a meaningful look, as it hung motionless at his side. He smiled and lifted his wrist to her in offering to see what she would do. Tatiana took it and bit with greedy pleasure. A light gasp sounded from Leandro. Marcello watched in jealous anger.

  Tatiana drank just as much of him before breaking her hold. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, offering up her neck. Instinctively, both men stepped forward. At the same time, they leaned over and bit into the tender flesh of her throat. Tatiana moaned. Hands found her waist as they held her still. She began to pant, her heated body orgasmic with pleasure. They tasted her, her desire for them. She started to quake, brought swiftly to release by their deep, drinking kiss and light touch.

  With growls of pleasure, the brothers pulled back to stare at her in wonder. Her neck healed, but not before four crimson trails flowed over each pale breast into the valley between. A light sound left her, and she trembled, her body racked in shivers.

  “Bound,” she whispered. Both vampires looked at her, saying nothing. She felt their possessive jealousy and did not like it.

  “Pray, don’t stop playing on my account.”

  All eyes turned to the door. The words came from a vampire with light brown hair. The locks fell about his shoulders in perfect waves, trailing down his slender back. His voice was thick with an accent unfamiliar to Tatiana. When he stepped closer, he
walked with authority. Tatiana knew this vampire was older than Marcello and Leandro. He was gorgeous in his masculine grace and appeal, but his eyes held a dangerous light, and she knew he would be deadly in his purpose. He came forward to examine her carefully.

  Tatiana watched, stunned, as no one stopped him. The intruder lifted a finger to her chest and ran it over the four trails of blood. Then, lifting her taste to his lips, he sighed.

  “Tsk, tsk,” the old vampire said. “It is quite a situation you boys have wrought. Ah, I do wonder why I even bothered to change the two of you. Methinks Servaes never gave me such a headache.”

  “Jirí?” Tatiana whispered, understanding him to be her vampiric grandfather. Tatiana swore she saw Marcello’s eyes roll in his head at the vampire’s reprimand and Leandro snarled.

  Jirí smiled and bowed to her in greeting. “You are the witch.”

  Tatiana shivered. Jirí’s eyes flashed with green as she had seen the others do when they tried to read her. Only with him, she felt him digging past her defenses with greater ease.

  “I had to listen to their bitter arguing for years,” Jirí murmured absently, as he pried into her thoughts. “Always battling like mortal children. There were some nights I would’ve been content to drive a stake through their hearts if only to end my own suffering.”

  The probing of Tatiana’s thoughts was over as soon as it began. Without warning, Jirí lifted his hand into the air. Leandro flew backward across the room, slamming hard into the stone wall, cracking it with the impact. When he looked up from the floor, blood ran from his mouth in a torrent, pouring over his chin.

  “I have warned you about the dangers of changing a woman,” Jirí growled. He turned to look at his fallen son, unconcerned that he left his back open to Marcello and Tatiana. “Even a woman such as this. They are unable to last the centuries without going mad from it. Why do you think most of our kind is male? There is a reason for this.”