The much anticipated next Night 8 page

Hannibal had dressed me in. Kira kindly

let me borrow one of her outfits, and

judging from the grandeur of their home,

she’d be in no hurry to get it back.

I was barely done getting dressed when

it was time to leave. Gorgon flew Vlad

and me to a nearby private airport where

Vlad’s jet was fueled and waiting.

Maximus . . . well, Vlad was keeping his

word, but he obviously hadn’t forgiven

him. I didn’t even get a chance to say

good-bye, but insisting on that would only

make matters worse. I hadn’t meant to

cause the rift between them, but I was the

reason for it nonetheless.

It was only when we boarded Vlad’s

sleek Learjet that the full weight of my

circumstances hit me. For the second time

in my life, I was being hustled to Vlad’s

home because some unknown person was

trying to use me or kill me, in whatever

order proved most opportune. And Vlad

was only protecting me because it was in

his best interest. Talk about déjà vu.

When he sat down and held out his hand

as he had on my first trip to Romania,

something inside me snapped.

“No.”

His brow rose. “You’d rather take

down the plane if you accidentally shortcircuit

the electrical system? Don’t be

childish, you know it’s this or gloves and

we don’t have any.”

“I don’t care.”

To my horror, tears sprang to my eyes,

but I’d used up all my strength freeing

myself and then killing my captors, so I

didn’t have anything left to fight them.

“In the past month, I’ve been rejected,

blown up, shot at, drugged, and

kidnapped, but I’d rather go through all of

that again than hold your hand while acting

like . . . like everything that happened

between us doesn’t matter.” My voice

cracked. “Maybe it doesn’t to you, but

even being around you hurts and I can’t

pretend that touching you won’t be a

thousand times worse.”

As I swiped at those treacherous tears, I

braced for mockery. Or another coolly

practical admonition about how my

condition necessitated this action, but

Vlad said nothing. He stared at me, his

expression slowly changing from cynical

detachment to an almost pathological

intentness.

“I don’t want to touch you, either.”

The words hit me like a slap, but before

I could respond, he went on.

“No one feels like you do, so every

brush of your skin is a cruel reminder of

what I’ve lost. I can barely stand the sight

of you because you’re more beautiful than

I’ve allowed myself to remember, and

when I cut that wire off Maximus and

smelled you all over him, I wanted to kill

him more than I’ve wanted to kill anyone

in my life, yet I couldn’t because of my

promise to you.”

His voice thickened. “Now sit down

and take my hand, Leila. The pilots are

waiting for my command to leave.”

Slow tears continued to trickle down

my cheeks, but for a different reason this

time.

“You care.”

The words were whispered with a

despairing sort of wonder. He wasn’t

willing to rescind his loveless vow,

clearly, but I was wrong about the apathy

I’d thought he felt. That he admitted all the

above was surprising enough; the fact he’d

done it within earshot of his pilots was no

less than shocking.

Vlad grunted. “Don’t worry. I intend to

kill them as soon as we land.”

I laughed, something I wouldn’t have

thought possible five minutes ago. “No

you won’t.”

“I will if they repeat any of this.”

That I believed, and though it only

highlighted all the reasons why I should

flee from this lethal, arrogant,

maddeningly complex man, I sat down and

took his hand. I could pretend I didn’t

have a choice, but that would be a lie. He

could send one of the pilots to get gloves.

Hell, he could’ve sent someone to do that

when we were back at Mencheres’s. For

that matter, I could’ve brought the

rubberized body suit my kidnappers had

clothed me in; it’s not like flying

complications were a surprise to me. But

neither of us had done those things. Deep

down, we both must have wanted this no

matter how much it hurt.

His hand tightened around mine and

currents sparked into him as though they’d

missed him, too. I met his gaze and

something else flared between us, not

tangible like the electricity coursing from

my flesh into his, but just as real. I barely

noticed him directing the pilots to take off,

and the rumbling of the engines couldn’t

compare with my heartbeat when he

brushed my hair back to stroke my face.

“You should never have left me.”

I reached out as well, tracing my fingers

over the stubble on his jaw before moving

higher to the smoothness of his cheekbone.

“You shouldn’t have made me.”

His lips curled into something that

wasn’t quite a smile. “You don’t really

want me to love you, Leila.”

I let out a soft scoff. “Is that what you

tell yourself?”

“It’s what I know,” he said, a touch of

anger coloring his tone.

“You remember the dream I kept

having?” I whispered. “The one with the

waterfall of fire? I finally figured out

whose voice kept warning me to leave. It

was mine, and you’re the flames I couldn’t

hold on to no matter how hard I tried.

That’s why I had to leave, Vlad. If I’d

stayed, your refusal to even consider

loving me would’ve ended up destroying

me.”

Then I closed my eyes, putting a finger

to his lips when he drew in a breath to

respond.

“I don’t want to argue. Right now, I

want to do what I tried to do when I

dreamed myself onto this plane several

days ago.”

With that, I rested my head inside the

crook of his shoulder, draping my other

arm across his chest. He stiffened, but

made no move to push me away.

“This is what you sought to do when

you came to me that night?” His voice was

rough.

I nodded, wondering if he was angry.

True, it was a violation of his personal

space and Vlad was picky about people

touching him, but in my defense, I thought

I’d been dreaming . . .

His free arm slid around me and the

stiffness left his frame. Then something

brushed the top of my head, too briefly for

me to tell if it was his chin or his lips.

Somewhere deep inside me, that twisted,

pain-filled knot began to loosen.

All at once, I wished the flight to

Romania was longer than twelve hours.

Chapter 18

Either the drugs Hannibal pumped into me

were long-lasting, or I hadn’t realized

how exhausted I was. Whatever it was, I

ended up sleeping almost the entire flight.

When I awoke, Vlad was back to his usual

aloofness, which was for the best, I told

myself. Nothing had really changed except

the knowledge that I wasn’t the only one

upset over our breakup—cold comfort for

my pride, of no use to my still-wounded

heart. We passed the last couple hours in

strained silence. Once we landed and

transferred to a car, I couldn’t wait to get

to his house so I could put some distance

between us.

Of course, like all of my wishes, this

one turned out to be topped with a stink

bomb instead of a cherry when it came

true.

I’d seen his house many times, but when

we pulled up and I got out, my breath still

caught. Over four stories of gleaming

white and gray stone towered above me,

made even more imposing by the

triangular turrets that rose from each

corner. Ornate carvings adorned every

pillar, balcony, and exterior window,

while stone gargoyles kept watch on top

of soaring towers. The limousine could’ve

fit through the house’s twelve-foot-high,

fifteen-foot-wide doors with their ancientlooking

dragon knockers, not that they

were needed. As soon as our vehicle

came to a stop, the doors opened wide and

stayed open, a guard appearing on each

side.

I was admiring how green all the trees

had become when a petite girl with

shoulder-length black hair came charging

through the entryway.

“Gretchen,” I said, both surprised and

delighted to see my sister. “What are you

doing he—?”

My question was cut off by a ringing

slap. Stunned, I gaped at her while

cradling my cheek.

“How could you?” she shouted. “You

let us think you were dead! Dad and I

were planning your frigging funeral when

he”—a wild wave at Vlad—“showed up

to say you’re alive and we have to come

back here for our own safety! Then you

don’t call once and no one tells us

anything until ten minutes ago when they

say you’ll be here soon!”

“Dad’s here, too?”

“Yes, I’m here,” a steely voice said

from behind Gretchen.

I gulped, feeling like time rewound and

turned me into a child awaiting

punishment. A slim man with salt-andpepper

hair appeared in the doorway, his

bearing erect despite leaning more heavily

on his cane than the last time I’d seen him.

“You kept your word,” my dad said, but

he wasn’t looking at me. He stared at

Vlad.

“I always keep my word,” he replied

before striding by my father and entering

the main hall of the house.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

Gretchen demanded, yanking my attention

back to her.

I opened my mouth . . . and nothing

came out. What could I say? That I hadn’t

told them I was alive because I was afraid

Vlad would use them against me if he was

the one behind the bombing? It had

seemed viable at the time, but fell flat now

considering that Vlad had been the one to

rush them to safety instead.

Guilt hit me harder than my sister’s slap

moments ago. I hadn’t just let my family

believe I was dead. I’d let Vlad believe it,

too, and while I was off with Maximus

doubting him, he was making sure my

family was safe while searching for me.

The word sorry didn’t even begin to

cover this one.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you” was what I

said, and it sounded as inadequate as it

was.

Gretchen gave me a withering glare.

Then she turned on her heel and stomped

away. Moments later, I thought I heard a

door slam.

That left me with my father and the two

vampires who continued to hold the

massive front doors open, their faces

expressionless. Hugh Dalton treated me to

a long, wordless stare and then he sighed.

“Vlad said you probably thought you

were protecting us by this deception. Is

that true?”

“Yes.” A lump rocketed its way up my

throat. He knew why I did it, too. I

couldn’t have felt more ashamed.

“Well.” My father gave me a wintry

smile. “I’d say more, but I think

Gretchen’s slap covered it. Try to use

better judgment next time, will you?”

I swallowed hard, regretting so many

things that I didn’t know where to start

with the self-recriminations.

“I will.”

Avampire named Oscar escorted me to

the same room I’d stayed in before Vlad

and I started dating. It was on the second

floor, a full two levels below Vlad’s

room. The sight of the lace canopied bed,

marble fireplace, enormous antique

wardrobe, and indigo walls shouldn’t

have been depressing, but it was. Months

ago, I’d dubbed this the Blue Room

because of its color and the psychic

impression I’d picked up from the crying

woman who’d stayed here before me. Her

relationship problems ended up being

resolved, as I found out after meeting her

and her husband. Mine were irreparable.

It was just after ten a.m., Romanian

time, but convert that to Greenwich

Vampire Time and it was practically the

middle of the night. Therefore, I made no

attempt to talk to Vlad. I might have slept

on the flight over, but he could’ve been

awake the whole time making sure my

hand didn’t short-circuit the jet. Besides, I

wasn’t sure what I was going to say.

I showered and changed into an outfit I

selected from the packed wardrobe, not

surprised to find it was my size. Vlad’s

house was always stocked with all the

amenities. Then I went down to the first

floor, passing by several magnificent

rooms in search of one on the farthest

eastern corner.

Once inside the kitchen, I was glad to

see a familiar face.

“Hi, Isha,” I greeted the rotund, grayhaired

woman who was one of the house’s

several cooks. Vlad’s guards were

vampires and so was his staff, but he

made sure that the human blood donors

who lived here ate like kings. So did his

guests. I could’ve ordered room service,

but I didn’t want to put on airs.

Isha stopped chopping. “Miss Dalton,”

she replied in her heavy Romanian accent.

“How may I assist you?”

I blinked. It had been “Leila” before,

and was it my imagination, or was she

politely glaring at me?

“Don’t mind me. I just came to grab

some fruit and cheese.”

Isha blocked the front of the huge

refrigerator before I made it two steps into

the kitchen.

“Miss Dalton, please indicate where

you would like your breakfast served, and

I will be happy to have it sent there.”

Now I stared at her in disbelief. I

couldn’t count all the times I’d helped

myself when I lived here, usually while

having a pleasant chat with Isha or one of

the other chefs.

“It’s no trouble, I’ll get it myself,” I

tried again.

Isha’s gaze narrowed even as she

smiled, crinkling lines that showed she’d

been in her sixties when she was changed.

“Nonsense, it will be my pleasure.

Shall I send a plate to your bedroom, or to

the second-floor lounge?”

Her tone couldn’t have been more civil.

Same with her words, and still, I felt like

I’d been reprimanded.

“The lounge is fine. Ah, thank you, Ms.

. . .” Crap, I didn’t know her last name.

“Call me Isha, dear!” she’d said when we

met, and we’d been on a first-name basis

ever since.

She turned away without another word,

going back to her cutting board. Faster

than a machine, she julienned a pile of

vegetables, the morning light glinting off

her knife.

I left, but decided to take the long way

back to my room. There was something I

wanted to test first.

As I wandered around downstairs, I

made it a point to greet every person I

recognized. They were all impeccably

polite, but people I’d once counted as

friends now made Stepford Wives seem

warmer by comparison. If I had undead

senses, I’d bet the scent of disapproval

would’ve clogged up my nostrils.

No great stretch to figure out why.

Guess I’d done the unforgivable by

breaking up with their Master. Even if

they’d overheard my reasons, obviously

they thought I should’ve been grateful to

accept whatever crumbs of affection Vlad

offered me.

Now I knew how a pinball in a machine

felt—everything I touched seemed to

bounce me away as fast as it could. His

staff’s coldness shouldn’t bother me, but it

did. My stomach growled, reminding me I

hadn’t eaten in over a day, but instead of

going to the second floor, I went to the

small stairway behind the interior garden.

Then I followed it to an enclosed stone

hallway and opened the second door past

the chapel.

The gymnasium. I’d spent most of my

childhood in one of these, so the pulleys,

mats, weights, trampoline, and uneven

bars meant more than exercise. They were

time machines transporting me to a

carefree past before I touched that downed

power line. I went to the trampoline and

started a series of flips, but they reminded

me too much of my act with Marty. I

jumped off and went to a mat, fighting a

surge of grief.

There, I began to do the routine I’d

perfected back when I was thirteen and

had a shot at making the Olympic

gymnastics team. My body wasn’t as

conditioned nor was I wearing the right

clothes, but I did the entire set of floor

exercises anyway. Then another one, and

another. Soon my jeans and T-shirt were

sweaty, but I didn’t stop. Some days, if I

pushed myself hard enough, I could almost

hear my mother’s voice.

Who’s my little champion? I’m so

proud of you, sweetheart . . .

“Leila!”

The feminine voice didn’t come from

my imagination. It came from a strawberry

blonde across the room.

“Everyone, Leila’s back!” Sandra

called down the hallway. Then she rushed

forward with a grin. “Why didn’t you tell

us?”

Her genuine happiness was like a balm

on a stinging burn. If it wouldn’t have

electrocuted her to death, I might have

hugged her for an hour.

“I, ah . . .”—was afraid I’d get yelled

at or rejected again—“wasn’t sure if

you’d be awake,” I finished lamely.

Sandra laughed. “I wasn’t an hour ago,

but that would have been fine. Why are

you back? Did you and Vlad—”

“There she is!” Joe called, cutting off

Sandra’s question. In no time at all, I

found myself saying hi to old friends and

meeting the new live-in donors for the

a.m. shift of the house’s feeding schedule.

“Come, you must tell us everything,”

Sandra commanded. Then she grinned. “I

didn’t really want to exercise anyway.”

I couldn’t tell her everything, but I

could give her some details. Besides,

there was a kitchen down here, too, and

unlike the one upstairs, it didn’t have any

vampires who held a grudge against me in

it.

Chapter 19

After a pleasant couple hours where I

caught up with Sandra and the others, I

went back upstairs. There, I spent a notso-

pleasant couple hours with Gretchen

and my dad, trying to explain that someone

had planted the gas line bomb and that

same person would’ve considered my

family excellent bait if he—or she—

realized I’d survived. My father, a retired

lieutenant colonel, understood and seemed

willing to forgive me. I wondered if

Gretchen ever would.

At last, I went back to my room and

took another shower. Once clean and

redressed, I looked out my window at the

darkening sky and tried not to wonder if

Vlad was waking up. Out of all the people

who were angry at me, he had the most

right to be. Despite how coldly he’d

ended our relationship and how hard it

was to be near him, I still owed him an

apology for believing that he’d been

behind the carnival bomb. The next time I

saw him, I’d pay up on that debt.

Until then, I distracted myself by

wondering how Maximus was doing. I

wasn’t about to ask the staff, and asking

Vlad might make him blow his lighter

fluid. However, I had another way to see

if Maximus had recovered.

I ran my right hand over my skin,

finding the essence trail Maximus had left.

Then I focused on it until the Blue Room

vanished and complete darkness

surrounded me. For a second, I was

confused. Then I saw a green glow and

heard Vlad’s voice.

“—wasn’t my preference. I’d rather kill

you.”

A heavy sigh. “Then why don’t you?”

Maximus’s voice. I still couldn’t see

him, but he sounded sane, to my vast

relief. Where were they that the only light

came from Vlad’s eyes?

“Leila.” My name hung in the stygian

air. Vlad let out a short laugh. “She

refused to tell me where she was until I

swore an oath not to torture or kill you.”

Maximus laughed, too, and it sounded

equally humorless. “She left a few things

out, like eternal imprisonment.”

“She’s young,” Vlad said, “and it may

not be eternal. In a century or two, I might

get over my anger and let you out.”

Something clanked together, and then

another flash of green filled the blackness.

Maximus’s eyes, illuminating enough for

me to see that his face was pressed against

thick metal bars.

“She’ll be long dead by then,” he

rasped.

Vlad’s gaze gleamed brighter. “Will

she?”

Now I knew where the two of them

were, and rage shot through me. Maximus

wasn’t back at Mencheres’s house. He

was about a hundred feet below me in

Vlad’s underground dungeon!

“Leila refused your offer to turn her into

a vampire.” Maximus’s tone hardened.

“She’s done with you, remember?”

Vlad’s laughter rolled out, low yet

relentless, like thunder during a spring

storm. “If you believed that, you wouldn’t

have lied to me about her being alive. You

must have guessed that I was letting her

leave me, but I wasn’t letting her go.

That’s why you kept her from contacting

me by convincing her that I might be the

one behind the bomb.”

“You could have been,” Maximus

growled.

Vlad’s hands flashed out, closing over

Maximus’s. Only those thick rods of metal

separated their faces as he leaned in.

“That, you must want to believe,” he

said softly. “Otherwise, you betrayed me

for nothing.”

Their matching glowing gazes showed

every nuance of their flinty expressions.

Finally, Maximus’s mouth curled and he

yanked his hands out from under Vlad’s.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say it was for

nothing.”

My jaw dropped. His insinuation was

clear, as Vlad’s hands bursting into flames

proved. Part of me was offended by the

false intimation while the other cheered

Maximus for scoring a hit despite his

helpless circumstances.

Which I was going to do something

about. Locking him away in a dungeon

counted as torture in my book, especially

since Vlad intended Maximus to stay there

a century or two.

Vlad barked out something in reply, but

the room swam around me, blackness

giving way to an avalanche of blue as I

lost the link. After I was reoriented, I felt

dizzy and didn’t need a mirror to know

what the warmth trickling from my nose

was. Fury made that irrelevant. Vlad might

think he’d pulled one over on me, but I

was about to show him otherwise.

I swiped the blood off my upper lip and

stormed out of my room, practically

running down the stairs to the interior

garden and the staircase behind it. Those

steps I took two at a time, making a left

turn at the tunnel instead of my usual right.

My footsteps echoed in the enclosed

space, but I slowed down the last twenty

yards. I had a plan to get past the guards,

and running up to them wouldn’t help.

The hallway curved and narrowed,

dead-ending with two vampires in front of

an iron door a foot thick.

“I’m sorry, Miss Dalton, you can’t be

here,” the sandy-haired one said. Then he

frowned. “You’re bleeding.”

I gave him my best helpless-female

smile, hoping he’d mistake the rage

wafting off me for something else.

“I know, that’s why you have to let me

through. I need Vlad to heal me. It might

be serious.”

The guards exchanged a wary glance.

“He didn’t authorize you to come down

here,” the beefy, redheaded guard stated.

“However, I would be glad to give you

my blood—”

“Wouldn’t that make him angry?” I

interrupted, widening my eyes. “If I drank

your blood when he was so close by?”

The guards exchanged an even warier

look while inwardly, I smiled. That’s

right. Think about how territorial you

vampires are and how I only drank

Vlad’s blood when I lived here before.

For further effect, I swayed, and though

the sandy-haired guard steadied me, as

soon as I straightened, he snatched his

hands away while looking around guiltily.

Checkmate.

“I’ll secure permission to let you

through,” the redhead guard said. He

wasn’t so easily deceived. Must be

married.

In response, I let myself go entirely

limp. As expected, I didn’t hit the floor

before strong arms caught me. Then I was

lifted up, the wind rushing past me from

how fast whoever had grabbed me ran

down the narrow staircase that led to the

dungeon. I kept my eyes shut and my head

drooping as we were ushered through

more checkpoints. None of Vlad’s guards

wanted to be responsible for me dying, yet

they were all too afraid of him to give me

their blood.

By the time the fourth and final door

creaked open, I sat up and pushed at the

arms supporting me. No need to make it

easier for me to be hauled away once the

jig was up.

“Let me down,” I told the guard, who

turned out to be the blond instead of the

redhead. No surprise.

My feet had barely hit the ground before

Vlad’s voice thundered through the

cavernous darkness around us.

“What the hell is she doing here?”

Chapter 20

An orange glow preceded his appearance,

showing the stone monolith in the center

wasn’t empty like the last time I’d been in

the dungeon. Two vampires hung from the

spiked silver chains embedded in the

rock, a third impaled in front of them.

When Vlad came closer, more light from

his flaming hands showed which part of

him the long wooden pole had entered by

first.

“That’s sick,” I breathed, temporarily

distracted.

He ignored that, stabbing a flaming

finger at the guard. “You’ve bought

yourself some painful time to think,

Jameson.”

“But she’s bleeding!” the guard

protested, giving me a little push forward.

“So you come and get me,” Vlad said

icily. The flames on his hands vanished as

he seized my jaw, turning my head and

forcibly preventing me from looking at his

prisoners.

“You don’t bring her down here without

permission, ever,” he continued, still

speaking to Jameson while he stared at

me. “A week on the pole will remind you

of that.”

“I wasn’t about to let you pull one of

your usual disappearing acts, so I tricked

him by pretending I’d fainted,” I snapped,

trying without success to knock his hand

away. “You want to punish someone?

Punish me.”

He grasped a handful of my hair.

Between that and his grip on my jaw, I

couldn’t move as he leaned down, placing

his lips directly over my ear.

“ I am punishing you,” he whispered.

“You’ll suffer from guilt every day he’s

on that pole. Then perhaps next time,

you’ll think twice before tricking my

guards.”

I shoved at his chest the same instant he

released me, so I ended up pushing away

only air. Vlad stood a few feet off, almost

invisible against the darkness with his

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 332