The much anticipated next Night 9 page charcoal-gray shirt and black pants. If not
for the emerald glow coming from his
eyes, I wouldn’t have known where he
was.
“Now, apologize for intruding.”
Not whispered. Instead, the command
resounded in the cavernlike interior.
Despite that, I couldn’t contain my snort.
“I’d rather bleed to death.”
“If you were anyone else, those would
be your last words.”
All of a sudden, I was reminded that the
dungeon was a place where most people
that entered never left. I’d looked at
storming in here from my perspective: I
was going to tear my ex-boyfriend a new
one for his underhanded way of breaking a
promise, and I had to get through a few of
his cronies first.
From a vampire’s perspective, I’d
deceived highly trained guards into
betraying their Master by taking me into
what was supposed to be the most secure
area of his house. That I’d done so in front
of enemy combatants probably made it
worse. I suppose the human equivalent
would be bitch slapping my ex-boyfriend
at his wedding while telling everyone
what a small penis he had, though that
would have short-term consequences.
With the fear-based, feudalistic system
vampires lived under, the repercussions
from this might reverberate for centuries,
and I couldn’t even claim the girlfriend
exemption anymore.
“At last, you begin to understand,” Vlad
said, irony threading into his tone.
I no longer saw the blond guard I’d
duped into taking me down here, but even
if Jameson had left, he was still listening.
All the guards I’d fooled would be
listening, and they’d repeat my next words
to the rest of Vlad’s staff, who’d repeat
them to other vampires, who’d eventually
repeat them to his enemies. I might prefer
whatever retaliation Vlad would be
forced to dish out to apologizing, but this
was about more than me.
That didn’t mean I was overlooking
what he’d done to Maximus. I’ll play
along now, but if you refuse to see me
after this, I’ll make you impale me with
the fit I throw, I thought defiantly. Then I
cleared my throat and uttered an apology I
never intended to give.
“Please forgive the intrusion. I
shouldn’t have come down here and I’m
sorry.”
My tone was good, but if tiny sparks
shot out of my right hand in protest, I
couldn’t do anything about that.
A smile flitted across Vlad’s face.
“I forgive you, but only because you
said ‘please.’ ”
Smartass, I thought. Then I groaned at
the instant chorus of “Please!” mixed with
cries for release from Vlad’s prisoners.
No wonder he got so sick of the word.
“I’m only merciful to one person a
day,” he threw over his shoulder. “As the
saying goes, today isn’t your day and
tomorrow doesn’t look good, either.”
Then his gaze landed back on me.
“Now, ask me to heal you.”
You are REALLY pushing it , I thought,
glaring at him.
He bared his teeth in a charmingly
ferocious grin. “My dungeon, my rules.”
Mentally, I cursed him in English and
Romanian, but out loud I said, “Would you
give me some of your blood to heal me?”
Another flash of teeth, now with fangs.
“Come and get it.”
I approached him the same way I would
a swaying, upright cobra—with extreme
caution. Being in close proximity to Vlad
was dangerous, especially since we both
still had feelings for each other. The odd
sort of “time out” we’d experienced on the
plane was over, so touching him now was
playing with fire—literally—and he’d
made sure that I had no choice.
Yes you do, my inner voice hissed.
Take a beating instead!
I paused, considering that, and Vlad
yanked me to him. Despite my anger, I
was the one who felt like shocks of
electricity sizzled into me when his body
touched mine. For the briefest second, I
closed my eyes, savoring the sensation.
Then I snapped them open and stared up at
him in challenge.
“Going to give me your blood or not?”
His grin was gone, replaced with a
tight-lipped, savage intensity. Then he
brought his wrist up, bit down deeply on
it, and held it over my mouth.
I didn’t look away as I parted my lips,
taking in that warm, sharply flavored
liquid. I never thought I’d miss the taste of
blood, but with one swallow, I knew I’d
missed his. My eyelids felt heavy with the
strangest sort of bliss, yet I refused to
close them. Keeping them open proved
almost as treacherous. The look in his
eyes when I sealed my lips over the
punctures and sucked sent heat rocketing
straight to my core.
Have you missed this, too? a dark part
of me whispered. It wasn’t my hated inner
voice; it came from somewhere else. A
place that felt like it only flared to life
when Vlad was near.
His lips parted, showing the tips of his
fangs. “Ask me again and I’ll show you.”
A threat? A sensual promise? Both? I
moistened my lips. Even both would give
me more pleasure than I could stand—
“No,” I said, the single word echoing
from my vehemence.
His embrace was my drug of choice,
and as any addict knew, one sampling was
too many—and a thousand never enough.
Then I pushed him away. Something
dangerous smoldered in his gaze but he
did nothing to stop me. Several torches
flared to life, allowing me to find my way
to the exit without tripping or groping
about. Once I reached it, I turned back to
him.
“I meant what I said. We still need to
talk.”
“Be in my private lounge at ten tonight.
Otherwise, I’ll consider the matter
closed.”
His private lounge, the same place I
used to cross every morning because it
bridged his bedroom with my old room.
I’d sooner face a firing squad than go
there, but if I refused, Maximus could stay
locked in this dungeon for centuries.
The smile Vlad flashed me before he
disappeared into the darkness said he
already knew what I’d choose.
Chapter 21
Ientered the lounge at exactly ten p.m.
Vlad was on the sofa, two wineglasses
and a bottle on the obsidian table in front
of him. The TV was off and the light from
the fireplace cast a soft glow over the
rust-colored couch.
Memories assailed me as mercilessly
as I’d feared. Vlad and I had spent many
evenings unwinding with a bottle of wine
on that couch. We’d done other things
there, too. Unbidden, warmth crept
through me that had nothing to do with the
blazing fire.
I tried to squelch it with bluntness.
“You didn’t misunderstand why I wanted
to see you, did you?”
He laughed, and that half growl, halfamused
purr played havoc with my senses
even as my hackles rose.
“You think I’m trying to seduce you?
How presumptuous, considering I’ve
never allowed an ex-lover back into my
bed.”
I glanced at the wineglasses, the
romantic lighting, and finally back at him.
If Vlad wasn’t trying to seduce me, then he
was taunting me with what I couldn’t
have. I’d dressed in a simple navy sheath
that rose no higher than my knees. His
black pants molded to his lower body,
while his white shirt contrasted like snow
against his tailored ebony jacket. That
shirt was open, revealing all of his throat
and the first few inches of his chest.
Platinum cuff links winked when they
caught the firelight, and his long, dark hair
was combed back, all the better to
highlight his lean, sensual features and
arresting copper eyes.
The only thing missing was him slowly
pouring hot fudge onto that bare expanse
of chest. Then any court in the world
would consider this sexual entrapment.
His smile widened. Crap, I’d forgotten
to sing to keep him out of my thoughts.
“Fine. We’re both here for platonic
reasons and we’ll leave it at that,” I said,
hating how husky my voice had become.
“Fine.”
All of a sudden he was inches away,
bringing me eye level to his open collar
and the skin I’d just imagined drizzling
with chocolate. I swallowed. Think of the
dungeon and his broken promise, not
how intoxicating he tastes even when
he’s not covered in dessert!
The dungeon image helped. “You need
to let Maximus go,” I stated, my voice
stronger now.
“No. Wine?”
I blinked, anger covering my desire.
“You promised you wouldn’t torture him,
but being imprisoned in a dungeon for
centuries counts as torture.”
Vlad held out a glass and then drank
from it himself when I refused with a
sharp shake of my head.
“No it doesn’t,” he said, still in that
damnably unruffled tone. “Since I’ve
firsthand experience with both, I assure
you that torture and imprisonment are very
different.”
“You’re splitting hairs. You knew
exactly what I meant when I asked for
your promise.”
A shrug. “I’ve honored my word as it
was given. If you wanted more, you
should have specified.”
“I was drugged!”
“And I was coerced,” he replied, his
gaze narrowing. “Many would consider
that reason enough to invalidate a
promise. I don’t, and Maximus knew that
betraying me would cost him. Because of
you, it hasn’t cost him as much as it
should.”
“This is just what you did with Marty,”
I seethed. “Giving me a promise that’s
useless after you’re done playing word
games with it, then you get offended when
I call you a liar!”
Vlad set his glass down so hard I was
amazed the stem didn’t snap. Then he went
to the door. When he opened it, I thought
he was going to order me out. Instead, he
left.
“Where are you going?” I called.
“To kill Maximus” was the reply that
drifted back. “If I’m a liar, I may as well
get full value out of it.”
“Wait!”
He’d already made it to the end of the
hall by the time I ran out to him, but at my
frantic call, he turned around.
“You can’t have it both ways, Leila.
Either I’m a liar or I’m not, and if I’m not,
then you have no cause to cry foul over
what I’ve done to Maximus.”
Frustration made me go right for the
jugular. “He’s the only reason I survived
after that gas line bomb. Doesn’t that mean
anything to you?”
He came toward me with the unhurried
gait of a true predator, making the hallway
feel like it shrank around me. The closer
he got, the more I instinctively moved
away. It wasn’t until I saw the mahogany
paneled walls that I realized he’d
maneuvered me back into the parlor.
“Yes, it does. That’s why I forgave him
for telling me he was checking on his
people when in reality, he was stalking
you. I won’t, however, forgive his
repeated lies after the explosion. Those
weren’t to save you. They were to keep
you from me because he wanted you for
himself.”
“He really thought you might’ve been
behind it,” I muttered.
Vlad rolled his eyes. “You believed
that, but Maximus knew I wouldn’t murder
an innocent woman out of spite.”
“He thought your injured pride might’ve
made you more homicidal than usual.”
“No, he wanted to fuck you.”
His even tone vanished, replaced with
one that sounded like razors over
shattered glass.
“If he believed any of what he told you,
it was only to assuage his guilt for
betraying me.” His eyes changed from
copper to emerald in a blink. “He’s
wanted you since the first. When I
discovered you were alive, I wondered if
he’d succeeded and the two of you rigged
that explosion in order to disappear
together.”
“You thought I killed a bunch of people
to fake my own death so I could run off
with Maximus?” If my voice got any
higher, all of the nearby glass would
shatter.
“You believed I ordered your death out
of injured pride because you left me.” His
gaze raked me. “Don’t pretend to be the
injured party when you also leapt to the
wrong conclusion.”
At that, my temper snapped. “Of the two
of us, who’s more likely to have killed
those people?”
His smile was sharklike; all teeth, no
humor. “Me, but you still should’ve
known better. Martin, who I tortured the
day we met, contacted me after the
explosion because he knew I hadn’t done
it. Yet you, my once-treasured lover, were
so convinced I might that you let me
believe you were dead.”
I barely heard the last sentence. My
mind seized upon one thing, shock
replacing my anger.
“Marty contacted you after the
bombing? But that would mean he . . . he
wasn’t . . .”
“Wasn’t killed in the blast,” Vlad
supplied, his lips curling. “Terribly cruel
of me to let you believe that someone you
cared about was dead, wasn’t it?”
Rage collided with a tidal wave of joy.
Those wildly contrasting emotions proved
too much. I lunged at Vlad, snarling,
“Damn you!” while happy tears sprang to
my eyes.
He caught me, lifting me several inches
off the ground. At this height, we were eye
level, and the look on his face would’ve
made me take a step backward if I could.
“Don’t,” he said, the word falling like a
hammer. “You’re the only one who’s
struck me without retaliation, but you’re
not my lover anymore so I won’t be as
lenient again.”
I hadn’t intended to hit him. True, I’d
wanted to shake him until his fangs rattled
for letting me believe my best friend was
dead—and wait until I got ahold of Marty!
—but that urge drained away as I stared
into his eyes. His expression was so
thunderous I should have been afraid, but
something other than fear began to fill me.
Unable to help myself, I glanced at his
mouth. It looked hard, but if I leaned
forward a few inches, I knew it wouldn’t
feel that way . . .
Suddenly his mouth was on mine,
proving that I was wrong. It did feel hard.
The stubble on his face felt rougher, too,
plus I’d have bruises from how forcefully
he yanked me down to him.
And nothing had ever felt better.
Rapture burst forth, scorching everything
else in its path. I kissed him back so
fiercely that I tore my lip on his fangs, yet
the sting didn’t register. All I knew was
his taste, like spiced wine mulled with the
darkest of fantasies. How his arms
crushed me closer while his heat seared
through my clothing. The sensually brutal
way his tongue twined with mine, and the
overwhelming urge I had to touch him as
fast as my hands could race over his body.
I needed him as much as the jagged
breaths I snuck in between kisses, but
another emotion proved stronger, giving
me the strength to push him away despite
every cell in my body howling in protest.
“What are you doing?” I managed.
His expression was nothing short of
ferocious, and if his gaze grew any hotter,
I’d burn beneath it.
“You’ve never had angry sex. I’m about
to show you what you’ve been missing.”
At those words, the throbbing between
my legs became painfully intense. In spite
of that, I stopped him when he swooped
down to kiss me again.
“You said you’d never take an ex-lover
back.”
His mouth descended to my neck with
devastating effect. “You’ve proven to be
the exception to my rules.”
Those burning lips made the cool
pressure of his fangs feel that much more
erotic. Still, a deep-seated hurt overrode
the passion slamming into me.
“Not all of your rules.”
Vlad made a sound too harsh to be a
growl. “You won’t be satisfied until
you’ve brought me to my knees, is that it?”
“Why not?” It shot out of me with all
the recklessness of my still-broken heart.
“You brought me to mine.”
He released me so abruptly I had to use
the couch to steady myself. Without his
body against mine, I felt cold despite the
pleasant warmth of the room.
“I told you that you can’t have it both
ways, and that’s true for us as well.”
Did I miss something? “What are you
talking about?”
“I’m Vlad the Impaler,” he said, biting
off each word. “I’ve survived for over
five hundred years because if someone
crosses me, I kill him, and if I am
betrayed, I exact my revenge. I told you
this when we met, yet you’re still upset
when I act on it.”
“Oh, you don’t have to remind me how
merciless you are,” I said, bitterness
leaping to the surface.
“Obviously I do,” he replied. Then he
cupped my face with hands so heated they
felt like brands.
“You claim to love me, but the man you
love doesn’t exist. That man wouldn’t
have survived years of beatings and rape
as a boy because sheer hatred kept him
from breaking. That man wouldn’t have
impaled twenty thousand prisoners to
terrorize a larger advancing army because
fear was the only tactical advantage he
had, and that man wouldn’t have
imprisoned one of his closest friends for
lying to him over a woman he was
enamored with. I am not that man.”
His hands dropped and he stepped
back, his expression still frighteningly
intense.
“You see, you don’t want me to love
you. You want the version you’ve made
up. The knight, even though I’m the dragon
and I always will be.”
Then he left. This time, despite my
calling out, he didn’t stop. In the seconds
it took me to get to the hallway, he was
gone, the two open windows at the far end
still vibrating from his exit through them.
Chapter 22
Iwent down to the second floor, so upset
over Vlad’s accusations, I walked right by
my family without seeing them.
“Leila,” Gretchen snapped, jerking my
attention to the sitting room I’d just
passed. “What is your problem?”
“What’s my problem?” Hysterical
laughter bubbled, but I choked it back. “I
wouldn’t know where to begin.”
My father’s gaze swept over me, taking
in my mussed hair, swollen mouth, and
sparking right hand.
“Gretchen, I want to have a word with
your sister.”
She shrugged. “Go ahead, I’m not
stopping you.”
“He means leave,” I said wearily.
This was the last thing I needed, but I’d
put him through hell recently, and
everyone knew how paybacks worked.
She got up, muttering, “You’re lucky
Vlad covered my expenses for the year,”
under her breath.
“What?”
“Gretchen, go,” my dad ordered.
She did, leaving me alone with my
father. I plopped onto the couch opposite
his, noting the differences between this
sitting room and the one I’d left. The
colors were lighter and there were no
weapons or barbaric shields over the
fireplace. All at once, I hated the apricot
and cream decor and the white hearth with
the insipid oil landscape above it. This
room lacked complexity, fierceness,
passion . . .
It lacked everything that Vlad was.
“So he’s covering Gretchen’s expenses
for the year.” Of course he hadn’t told me
that. Vlad seldom mentioned his thoughtful
deeds. “That’s very generous of him.”
My dad glanced around pointedly. “He
can afford it.”
“He can also mesmerize her into
forgetting she ever met him and drop her
back at her apartment without a cent,” I
said in a crisp tone. “Come on, Dad. Give
credit where it’s due.”
That salt-and-pepper head snapped up.
“I do. He promised to bring you back
safely and he did. He promised to let us
return to our lives when the danger had
passed and I believe him. But he refused
to promise to leave you alone, and from
how you look now, he’s made good on his
intentions not to.”
I was a grown woman, but I didn’t think
I would ever feel comfortable discussing
my sex life with my dad. In this case,
though, he had nothing to worry about.
“It’s not what you think. We’re not back
together.”
“You’re still in love with him,” he said
flatly.
Not according to Vlad! my inner voice
mocked. He thinks I’m in love with a
version of him that doesn’t exist.
I drew in a deep breath. If I could pull
that voice out, I’d send it to the moon with
all the currents I’d shoot into it. But
thinking that way made me one step up
from Gollum in The Lord of the Rings.
Soon I’d be arguing with my own
reflection.
“When does love solve anything?” was
what I replied.
My father grunted. “You’re too young to
be so jaded.”
I held up my right hand with a short
laugh. “You remember what I see with
this, right? Everyone’s worst sins, so I
might only be twenty-five, but I haven’t
been young for a long time.”
He was silent for several moments. At
last, he nodded.
“I suppose you haven’t.”
Then he leaned forward, lowering his
voice to a whisper. “But, baby, you’ve got
to stay away from Vlad. In my decades in
the military, I’ve met all types of hardened
men, yet I’ve never looked into any of
their eyes and felt afraid. When I look into
his, it’s like someone just walked over my
grave.”
A rational reaction considering Vlad
wasn’t your average soldier, mercenary,
warlord, or anything else my dad could
compare him to. In many ways, he was a
slice of history’s untamed past among us,
yet I had only one response. While it was
the last thing my father wanted to hear, it
was also the truth.
“I don’t feel that way when I look at
him.”
Then I rose, filled with renewed
determination. Vlad thought I loved a faux
version of him because I couldn’t handle
the full Dracula? I’d prove to him—and
my hated inner voice—that he was wrong.
“Good night, Dad. There’s something I
need to do.”
Imade sure to mentally sing the most
annoying song I could think of in case
Vlad had come back. What I was about to
do might be risky, but when was my life
not risky? Besides, the last two times I’d
used my powers, I’d only gotten a
nosebleed. I’d also had Vlad’s blood
today, so that further decreased the
danger. In short, it was now or never.
Once on the first floor, I bypassed the
dining room, library, and conservatory for
a room I usually avoided. The Weapons
Room, as I called it.
This room was second only to the
dungeon in bloody mementos. It was filled
with chain mail, suits of armor, swords,
long curving knives, mallets, shields,
spears, crossbows, and spikes, most
bearing dents, stains, and other evidence
of use. Even being close to them made my
right hand tingle, as if the essences in
those objects were reaching out to me.
The last time I’d been here, I kept my
right hand glued to my side because I
hadn’t wanted to know the grisly stories
these objects contained. This time, I
stretched it out, seeking the events that had
made Vlad into the man he thought I
couldn’t love. The first thing I touched
was a long spear.
I hoisted my spear with a shout that
was echoed by thousands of soldiers
behind me. Outnumbered or no, we
would rather die than allow Wallachia to
be conquered. Then I urged my horse
down the steep hill, hearing the thunder
of hooves as my men followed me . . .
That image faded and I went for the
shield next, touching the dragon emblem
hammered into the metal.
A cloud of arrows blackened the sky. I
raised my shield and braced, waiting to
see if I lived or died. Once my shield
stopped shuddering, I rose, slicing the
arrows sticking from it with a rough
swipe of my sword. Then I grinned
despite the blood streaming from my
forehead. Not dead yet . . .
My heart had begun to race from those
battle echoes, but I wasn’t about to stop. I
stroked a wicked-looking mallet next.
I sat on my throne, showing no sign of
the rage coursing through me. Mehmed
thought to cow me by choosing three of
my former jailers to accompany his
envoy. He was mistaken.
“Your piety prevents you from
removing your turbans in my presence?”
I repeated. Then I smiled at my boyhood
torturers. “Let me assist you in ensuring
they stay on. Hold them.”
My guards seized the officials while I
fetched a mallet and several long spikes.
Then, my rage turning to cold resolve, I
nailed their turbans onto their heads.
After the third one fell lifeless to the
floor, I flung the bloody mallet at the
horrified envoy.
“Here is my response to the sultan’s
terms.”
I fell out of that memory into another
one faster than I registered what I touched
next. My vision swam as more images
from the past overtook the present. Once I
glimpsed a woman with luxuriant brown
hair, but when I tried to see her face, it
blurred. Then she was gone as I touched
something else in my determination to see
everything Vlad thought I couldn’t handle.
Phantom pains and emotions blasted into
me with each new object, coming so fast
and violently that I began to lose focus on
what was real. I was no longer a woman
seeking validation about her feelings for
her ex-lover.
I was Vladislav Basarab Dracul,
bartered by my father into hellish
political imprisonment as a boy, then as
a young man, fighting war after war to
keep my country free, only to be betrayed
by my nobles, the church, and even my
own brother. Then I was abandoned by
the vampire who sired me, widowed by a
woman who’d shunned me for my deeds,
and imprisoned again by Mihaly
Szilagyi, a vampire who sought to rule
Wallachia through me. Betrayal, pain,
and death were my constant companions,
yet I would not let them break me. I
would use them to break my enemies
instead.
“Leila!”
As if from a long way off, I heard
Vlad’s voice. Felt him grab me, but I
couldn’t see him. My vision had been
replaced with red.
Vlad called my name again, but his
voice became fainter. Soon I couldn’t hear
or feel him. Good. Couldn’t he see that I
was trying to sleep?
Date: 2015-12-11; view: 366
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