Ashes of the Day (21 page)

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Authors: P.G. Forte

BOOK: Ashes of the Day
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“Come on,” Christian urged. Scowling now, he pulled her hips to his, roughly, and slammed inside her again. “Quit stalling, wench. Do as I bloody fekkin’ tell you.”

She gasped in surprise. How dare he? She was nobody’s wench, least of all his. Snarling in anger, Georgia reached up and dragged him down to her. A hoarse cry left his lips as she sank her teeth into his chest and he let loose with a single sob. Then his own fangs were out. He lowered his head, dug his teeth into her shoulder, and fucked her faster and more and more fiercely until he stiffened and groaned and spent inside her.

Georgia, her hunger unleashed, kept on drinking. It barely registered in her mind when he collapsed on top of her. Even his first weak cries of, “That’s enough now, Georgie, stop it please,” failed to penetrate. He shuddered and clawed at her arms as he tried to wrench himself away; only then did she come to her senses.

“Oh, my God.” She shoved him aside and covered her mouth with a trembling hand as tears obscured her vision. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t answer her. His breathing was rough and uneven as he dabbed at the still-bleeding wounds on his chest with a corner of the bed-sheet. Georgia collapsed in a heap and gave in to despair. How much longer could they go on like this?

“Now, now, none of that,” Christian said after a moment. Sighing angrily, he pulled her into his lap. “Come along, be a good girl. Close it up right.”

She was almost too embarrassed to touch him, but what else could she do? The tears continued to flow as she licked at his wounds, healing the damage as best she could. Finally satisfied she had done all she could, she pulled back timidly, biting her lip. When he tugged her back against him, and cuddled her close, her control deserted her. She dissolved in tears.

“Why’re you crying?” he asked after a moment. His tone was gentle, but he sounded weary and frustrated. “You can’t tell me all these tears are for me?”

Georgia shook her head. “No. Not all.” It was mostly him, but it was everything else as well. Sorrow. Exhaustion. Reaction. Grief.

“Ah. I get it.” His accent grew thick, his very voice mocking her. “You’re missing the rest of your boys again, aren’t you? Is that the way of it, Mum?”

Her boys. Frank and Nigel, Tony, Hal and James. Her heart ached at the thought. “I’ve asked you not to call me that,” she answered, her voice gruff. “Or to speak of them that way. Besides, why should tonight be different from any other night?” She pushed away from him and got up. This time he let her go.

“There’s no need for that tone, you know,” he said, eyeing her moodily. “You’re not the only one with regrets. We’ve all got those. There’s no escaping them, is there?”

“We should hurry and get dressed,” she said in answer. “The party should be starting any time now and Conrad won’t appreciate it if we’re late.” Catching a glimpse of her reflection, she shook her head. The blotchy, tear-streaked look was still fading from her face and her makeup would have to be re-done. Still, despite the damage, she knew she looked years younger and infinitely healthier than she had only a few minutes earlier. Breathing a sigh of relief, she seated herself in front of her mirror and began to reapply her makeup. It would do. For now, at least, they were safe.

“I don’t suppose you’ve given any thought to what
I
should wear?” Christian asked, coming up behind her. “In my haste to respond to your summons I’m afraid I didn’t think to pack any formal clothes.”

Georgia met his gaze in the mirror and quirked one brow. “When have I ever neglected your needs, love? You’ll find a tuxedo and shoes in the closet and anything else you need should be in those drawers over there. I daresay you’ll wish to visit a tailor while you’re here, but for tonight it should all fit well enough.”

“Ah, you’re a wonder, you are.” He bent to kiss the top of her head, then headed toward the closet to get dressed. “You think of everything. But, still, it’s been a long time since I attended anything so grand. Is there anything I should keep in mind?”

Georgia considered the question. “Just don’t do anything to anger Conrad,” she said at last. “That’s the most important thing—as always. He’s been in an odd mood lately. He’s more relaxed in some ways than usual, but I don’t trust it and I certainly don’t want to press our luck. And
do
try and steer clear of Damian. He’s quite as annoying as ever, I’m afraid. I’m sure he’ll be only too happy to start a fuss about something if you give him even half a chance.”

“Very well. Anyone else I need worry about?”

“Actually…” She spun around to face him. “Yes, now that you mention it. I think you should try and get to know the twins.”

Christian’s eyes widened. “Are they actual twins then? That’s somewhat unusual isn’t it?”

Georgia sighed. “Everything about them is unusual, as I’m sure you’ll soon discover. I’ve had some dealings with the boy. He’s been very troublesome. Hopefully you’ll have better luck with the sister.”

“I’ll do my best. Now, if you’re done with your face, do you want me to do up your dress for you?”

“Yes, thank you. That would be most helpful.” Georgia got to her feet and slipped the gown over her head. She’d managed just fine on her own when she first put it on, earlier in the evening, but it was nice to be fussed over every once in a while.

Christian zipped up the dress. His fingers lingered on her skin, tracing over her spine. Georgia shivered when she felt his lips brush against the tattoo on her upper back. “Did you choose the dress specifically to put his crest on display?” he asked.

Georgia’s heart sank. She bowed her head. “Is it that obvious?” For that had been exactly what she’d thought to do.

“Only to me,” Christian answered in soothing tones. “And only because I know you so very well. Don’t fret. I’m not upset about it, you know. In fact, I think it a very smart move. He made you a promise, after all. The least you should be able to expect is that he honor it. Why you would not take every opportunity to remind him of that fact—especially now—is a mystery.”

“It won’t do very much good, you know,” Georgia cautioned. “He pledged me his support, vowed to protect me against all others, but it was never intended as protection against his own actions. At best it might buy us a little mercy, perhaps a swifter death. If we wish to be safe, however, we’ll need something a little more compelling.”

“For example?”

“A bribe of sorts? Or something with which to barter?”

Christian shook his head. “You keep holding out for such things. That’s all well and good, but as I’ve told you before a cure would be a far better solution. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that if we wish to permanently remove the sword hanging over our heads, a cure is a vital necessity.”

“Why wish for the impossible? Why hold out hope for what can never be more than a long shot? The likelihood of a cure being found was never very good and the chance for it grows slimmer with each century that passes. If one could not be found when there was a pressing need for it, when people were searching desperately, actively for one, what makes you think it will be found now? Where are the scientists among us?”

“You know where they are,” Christian replied bitterly. “As well as do I. And you know at whose hands and by whose orders they met their demise.”

“I know.” Georgia sighed wearily. “But you see my point, don’t you? Who is left now to seek a cure? And what cause has anyone to even continue the search for one, when they all believe the disease has been eradicated?”

“What of this woman for whom you hunt? If she could decode the old texts and recreate your precious elixir—”

“Hush!” Georgia glared fiercely at him. “Do not even speak its name. You put us both in peril.”

“And yet you said Conrad had no problem speaking of it in front of Damian. Why is only he exempt from the rules?”

“For the same reason that power is ever exempt. Who is going to challenge him?”

“Point taken. But my question remains. How do you know this woman, whoever she is, is not capable of developing a cure? Or was not on the brink of doing so?”

“Why do you think I am so anxious to learn more about this supposed scroll?” Georgia shook her head. “If only I’d been thinking more clearly the night I first searched the warehouse. But my timing was off, as usual, and I was thinking only of fulfilling Conrad’s request and departing again as swiftly as possible before he could notice there was aught amiss. I still do not understand how he failed to sense the changes.”

“You know what they say, ‘Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds,’” Christian quoted, smiling softly. “Perhaps you underestimate how much he cares for you? Perhaps his love for you makes him blind where you’re concerned?”

“Perhaps. But I’m still unwilling to risk both our lives to find out.”

“‘He who is not courageous enough to take risks will accomplish nothing.’”

“Who is it you’re quoting this time?” Georgia asked, frowning crossly.

Christian chuckled. “An American boxer from the last century, I believe. What matters it? I take my inspiration where I find it.”

“Indeed. I hope you are not suggesting I am without courage?”

“Of course not. You are the bravest girl I’ve ever known. The bravest person,” he corrected quickly. “But ‘desperate times call for desperate measures’, do they not?”

“Words, words, words.” Georgia sighed. “And never your own, I can’t help noticing. Is that all you have for me? I have oft thought, if one cannot find one’s own words to speak, perhaps the sentiment one is attempting to express is likewise borrowed, or else does not deserve utterance in the first place?”

“Careful, love. ’Less my ears deceive me, you were coming perilously close to quoting Eliza Doolittle with that last statement.”

“Oh! Really!” Georgia scowled. “Only you would have the temerity to dare make such an odious comparison. In truth, I think perhaps I have been far too lenient on you. I should have been harder on you from the start. Never would I have dared speak to my own sire in such a fashion.”

“Yes, Mother. Whatever you say.”

“Christian,” Georgia snarled in warning. “Don’t!”

Christian chuckled and hugged her tight. “Sorry, darling. I will try and behave, but it’s just so hard to see you in such straits and feel helpless to aid you in any way. I must do something to relieve the tension, at least.”

“I understand. But it just… It all seems so hopeless at times and talking only makes it worse.”

There must be something that can be done. Some method we have yet to consider.”

“It needs only a miracle, my love.” Georgia smiled sadly. Rising up on her toes, she brushed a soft kiss against his lips. “Nothing less than that. And those, I’m afraid, have always been in very short supply.”

Chapter Fourteen

There was a decent-sized crowd in Akeldama tonight. Not as large as in years past, perhaps, but there was enough of a crush that Drew felt faintly relieved as he scanned the room. He’d been worried when he’d first learned of the competing party his sire was hosting. On the one hand, he’d felt a tad put out that he couldn’t be there to join his brethren. On the other hand, the fact that Georgia would doubtless be in attendance made him twice as happy to be spending the night elsewhere. On the third hand, if he’d had a third hand that is, he’d been worried about the possibly negative effect Conrad’s party would have on his sales.

Why couldn’t the Quintano event have been held here? Why couldn’t the family have thrown some of its money his way? Although, to be honest, the thought of Conrad actually holding court in Drew’s little club was more than a little disconcerting.

On balance, he supposed things had worked out for the best. He was even reaping an unexpected advantage. It hadn’t escaped his notice that more than a few of the vampires here tonight were allied with rival Houses. Apparently, even though the club remained a Quintano clan holding, the relative absence of actual Quintanos had made the other vampires bolder. Drew had absolutely no problem with that. He saw nothing wrong with taking their money or profiting from their curiosity.

“Interesting crowd tonight,” his bartender observed. “I’m not seeing a lot of familiar faces though.”

Drew shrugged. “It’s the holiday.” Being as Danny was human, there was no reason for him to know about the intricacies of Vampire politics and Drew saw no reason to enlighten him. “Don’t worry about it.” Before he could say another word, a change in the room’s energy sent the now all-too-familiar chills dancing down his spine. Once again, conversation ceased as power approached and everyone seemingly held their breath.

“Oh, shit.” Danny’s grunt of surprise neatly echoed Drew’s thoughts. “What’s this now?”

“Not again,” Drew sighed as he turned away from the bar. This couldn’t be happening. What had he done to deserve this? What? But the sight that met his eyes was not the one he’d been expecting. Not even close.

Marc had come. And he hadn’t come alone. Looking every inch the favored son he once had been, he strode through the club at the head of a troupe of ferals, a somber-hued formation that bore an uneasy resemblance to a flying wedge.

“Evening, Drew,” Marc said, bringing his army to a stop in front of the bar.

“Marc.” Drew replied cautiously. He didn’t care for the wry smile on his friend’s face. He didn’t find it at all reassuring. When Marc’s gaze strayed past him and he smiled in genuine pleasure, Drew liked that even less.

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