Blood Wyne (9 page)

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Authors: Yasmine Galenorn

Tags: #Romance, #General, #Paranormal, #Fiction

BOOK: Blood Wyne
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Roman was a very wealthy vampire, and though he had exquisite taste, I felt claustrophobic around him. There was just too much . . . too many vases, and too many roses scenting the air, too many paintings covering the walls, too many throws covering the chairs and love seat and sofa.
“The Master will be with you in time,” the doe-eyed young woman whispered. She was a young vampire, of that I was certain, but old enough to pause, give me a long look, and then smile suggestively before she slipped out of the room.
I knew the drill. Roman would let me wait a little past my comfort zone, then suddenly appear at my side. He was so old that he made no noise, moving faster than any vampire I’d ever met. He was older than Dracula, and older than Dredge had been.
“Thinking of anything in particular?” A soft voice echoed from the corner of the room, and I whirled to find myself staring at two gleaming eyes in the darkness. As he emerged from the shadows, I froze, once again feeling like a deer in the headlights.
Roman was as he’d been in my dream. I hadn’t forgotten his looks, apparently. He was around five eleven, trim but muscled, and he wore a black smoking jacket and what looked like designer trousers. His hair was slicked back in a ponytail, a rich chocolate brown, and his eyes were almost white—the longer a vampire lived, the more pale his or her eyes became. Mine were already turning gray. His were nearly opaque, but a sparkle delineated the iris, and a faint slit of black reminded me of a cat’s pupil.
Roman held out his hand. Sapphire cufflinks set in gold adorned the cuffs of his velvet jacket. A matching pendant hung from a ribbon of gold chain encircling his neck.
“Menolly, so good of you to come.” He motioned for me to sit and I did, choosing a chair where he could not sit directly beside me. I didn’t trust him. Any vampire that old had to have lost a good share of his humanity.
“You wanted my help, and yet I summon you here to assign you a task.” His voice was low, smooth, silken cream, and he smiled. “You will assist me.”
His manner had roped me in, but it was common sense that made me nod. When a vampire this old invited you to his home and asked for a favor, you said yes. At least until you could get away and decide how to back out of the obligation.
“What do you want?”
Roman leaned back, pulled out a miniature cigar, and lit it, not inhaling but gathering the smoke in his mouth and forming delicate, perfect rings with it, the tips of his fangs peeking out at me. I stared at his mouth, at the perfect O, and found myself licking my lips. Oh, he was honey and I felt like Winnie the Pooh. After a moment, he set his cigarillo in an ashtray.
“What do I want? I want you to stop a murder.”
“Who’s in danger?” I yanked my attention out of the gutter and tried to focus on what he was saying, praying it wasn’t my sisters or me at risk.
“Wade Stevens. Your friend.”
Wade! Wade, the vampire who had been instrumental in introducing me to the vampire scene in Seattle, then turned his back on me? My temper flared.
“Wade and I aren’t on speaking terms.” And then, because I couldn’t help it, I asked, “Who wants to murder him, anyway? Terrance?”
“No,” Roman said softly. “But if he doesn’t withdraw from the election, I will stake him myself. Or send someone to do the job for me.”
What the fuck? I stared at him a minute, waiting for a crack of laughter or anything to indicate he was joking, but none came.
“You can’t kill Wade. He’s one of the good guys,” came racing out of my mouth before I could stop myself.
“I can, and I shall, if he doesn’t listen to reason and withdraw from the election. Make him see reason. That’s why I called you over here, or at least, one of the reasons.” He leaned forward and gazed into my eyes, and I felt myself falling forward, falling into those ancient orbs of frost. “Menolly, persuade Wade to withdraw without telling him why, or I will kill him. It’s that simple.”
And then, before I could respond, he reached out and took my hand and a shiver raced up my back—and I, who could not feel cold, felt chilled to the bone. Something inside—the part of me that remembered Dredge—screamed,
No, don’t touch me
, but another part begged to be set free.
I forced down my panic. “What happens if I can’t? What happens if he won’t listen to me?”
“That . . . is not my problem,” Roman said, his voice so low I could barely hear him. He drew me close, pulled me out of my chair, and before I realized what was happening, I was sitting in his lap, staring into his eyes. He reached up and caressed my face gently, without any sense of force.
“I have my reasons, Menolly. I could have just ignored everything and ordered him killed. But I knew—even though you two are on the outs—that he was your friend, and so I give you this chance to save him. Will you take it?”
“But why—what could be so wrong about him running in the election? Surely Terrance can’t be a better choice. He’ll destroy all we’ve worked to build up, all of the treaties with the breathers and the Fae.”
Up close, I could see his face so much more clearly, and I realized Roman was a beautiful man. His hair shimmered under the dim lights from the chandeliers. And his eyes . . . his eyes reminded me of illuminated, mist-shrouded globes of light. I wondered how many moths had been drawn in by the gentle lure. Thoughts of his stable sprang to mind. Were they all human? Were they all women? Did he just feed on them, or were they also his concubines?
Roman’s face was mere inches from mine. “Terrance will never hold the position of Regent, rest assured.”
“You can’t mean for me to talk to Terrance, too. He’s out for my blood. And I’m out for his.” I shook my head. The owner of the Fangtabula was as good as dead in my opinion—or he would be if I ever managed to catch him alone. He was the worst kind of vampire—totally given over to his predator side. Terrance was a sadist, a Dredge in the making.
“I’m not asking you to talk to him. I can handle Terrance. But young Wade, he has a good idea with his Vampires Anonymous group. I will spare him if you persuade him to withdraw. But this must be done with discretion and finesse—you cannot tell him outright why you’re asking him to walk away from the election. And rest assured, there will be other duties for you, in the future.”
He seemed convinced I was going to agree. Of course, considering who he was, he had every reason to assume my cooperation.
“What are you planning to do about Terrance?”
“I’m planning on shutting down the Fangtabula and executing all of its primary players. They feed on the unwilling; they threaten to unbalance our negotiations with the breathers.”
Roman gently slid me off his lap and stood up, a crackle of energy racing around him as he drew on his power. Instinctively, I pulled back. If I’d had a pulse to pound, it would be racing with fear.
“Terrance dares to challenge my authority. Menolly, do you know exactly who I am?” He gave me a cold, calculating smile.
I shook my head, slowly, listening to the ivory beads in my cornrows jingling. “Just that you’re Roman . . . and that you have considerably more power than I first thought.”
“Oh, Menolly,” he said softly. “My dear Menolly. I am Roman, Lord of the Vampire Nation, eldest son of Blood Wyne—she who is Queen Mother of the Crimson Veil. And I’m heir to the throne.” And then he began to laugh.
CHAPTER 5
 
 
“Blood Wyne?”
This time, a chill did race down my spine—the kind of chill that doesn’t need temperature to back it up. I’d heard rumors of Blood Wyne, the infamous, horrific vampire queen whose name stretched back into obscurity. Whether vampirism started with her, or she was just the one to bring it to notice, Blood Wyne was the first vampire whose name had instilled terror throughout the living and undead alike.
Long before the Great Divide, she had been known across the lands, but after the worlds ripped apart and the Fae split into factions, as humans began to claim the world for their own, Blood Wyne slipped into the shadows.
She was known still, but had retreated into the corner like a spider, watching to see how the next few centuries would fall out. I’d heard of her, but like most of the vampires I’d met, I assumed she’d taken her place in the underworld. But the world had changed. Her people were coming out of the coffin. And apparently, the Queen of the Crimson Veil walked the halls of the living dead once more.
“Your sire is Blood Wyne?” I stared at Roman. No wonder he was so powerful and ancient. He was old past counting. And living in Seattle. In a palatial estate. There was only so much my mind could take in during one conversation, and I had the feeling I’d almost reached my limit.
“Yes—and more. My
mother
is Blood Wyne. She only became my sire when she was turned. And she then turned all of her children. There are eight of us scattered throughout the world. I am the eldest.” He rubbed the arm of the chair he was sitting in. “The
Vampyr
are truly the sons and daughters of Blood Wyne, in all imaginable ways.”
I slowly inched back into my chair. She’d turned her own children? A sick feeling hit the pit of my stomach. “Were you in danger? Or did she just decide to turn all of you into vampires with her?”
Roman picked up his cigarillo, considered it for a moment, then pinched it out. “Blood Wyne was . . . a
possessive
mother. After her transformation, she waited very little time before attacking us. All eight of us—she ordered the guards to hold us down and then fed on us until we were near death. Of course, at that point she forced us to drink from her veins. I’m lucky. I was the oldest. But my sister and brother, twins . . . they were only twelve years old.”
He sounded almost sad, and a mist covered his eyes. “They live forever locked in prepuberty. They turned on her, ran away together. I last heard of them five hundred years ago, when they terrorized and destroyed a village in France.”
“Why? Why would she do that to her own children?” I couldn’t imagine someone loving her children and deciding to turn them into monsters.
“She wanted to build an empire that would last an eternity. She wanted to keep us with her forever, and for all intents and purposes, she managed to accomplish her mission. At least in terms of life span. But we left home, instead of helping her create the kingdom she desired. Others took care of that desire—vampires who craved the same sense of power. Over the years, she accrued a kingdom, and her children . . . we eventually went back to her, but only on our terms.”
“All of you?”
He paused, then said, “Two of my brothers now hang on her skirts. If we’d stayed together from the beginning, we’d rule the world by now. The rest of us agreed to be her emissaries, to help her rule but not from the heart of the throne. She was angry, but finally agreed. She wanted her rule to be visible, but she had to settle for a more sinister existence, ruling from the shadows, letting the mortals go about their business.”
“You chose to forgo letting people know about you.”
A nod. “We knew that if we allowed her desire to rule logic and reason, a war would be waged against all vampires. The times were not so progressive as they are now. We would be destroyed unless we rampaged across the land and ruled by terror. I’d had enough rampaging while I still lived. I’d rather not repeat the experience. There are times when conquerors are necessary for the world, but I am no longer a warrior, save for when I must take up arms again. I prefer to strike a balance between ends of the spectrum.”
I gazed at him. Aligning myself with Roman was a smart move in many ways. On the other hand, I’d certainly draw more attention to myself, and some vampires were not going to like it. Wade, in particular. But he was as good as dead if I didn’t do what Roman wanted me to. As angry as he’d made me, I couldn’t just let him die.
And, I had to admit: The thought of Terrance being permanently removed from the picture dangled like a juicy, bloody carrot. He was crazed, dangerous, and I had a personal grudge against the man.
Roman possessed enormous power, and it said something for his nature that he hadn’t used it to terrorize the city. He outclassed Dredge by far, but Dredge had used his power like a hammer. Roman wore it like a cloak.

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