Bound by Night (17 page)
Authors: Amanda Ashley
“Dungeon,” he said, his voice flat. “You should not go there.”
“Liliana said I could go wherever I wished.”
The drone looked confused for a moment, as if no one had ever dared defy him before, and then it occurred to her that she was probably the first to do so. Surely the sheep would not disagree with any order given them. When she didn’t back away, he shrugged and allowed her to pass.
Elena opened the door, and then hesitated at the top of the stairs. Did she really want to go down there alone? But then, she wasn’t alone. The Hulk was right behind her. Still, it seemed the height of foolishness. Who knew what she might find down there? Visions of skeletons and dead rats flashed through her mind. Maybe the drone was right.
With a shake of her head, she was about to close the door when she heard Drake’s voice in her mind, as clearly as if he was standing beside her. She peered into the darkness at the foot of the stairs. Was Drake down there?
Chewing on her lower lip, she started down the stairs. The musty scent of rot and decay rose up to meet her. She paused midway down the staircase, one hand on the rail, listening, but all she heard was the sound of the Hulk’s breathing coming from behind her.
She had come this far, she thought, might as well see it through. She moved cautiously down the remaining steps, the drone at her heels.
When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she paused. In the eerie glow of the candle, she saw that she was indeed inside a dungeon. Iron-barred cells lined both sides of the room. Did the vampires keep prisoners down here? If so, how did they survive the smell? The air was rank, the low ceiling and stark surroundings oppressive. She shuddered at the thought of humans being locked away down here for days, or perhaps weeks, at a time, where no one could hear their screams for help.
Elena moved forward, her steps sounding overly loud in the silence. She gasped as a rat scurried past her. She was about to turn back when she heard Drake’s voice in her mind again.
“Drake!” She hurried forward, her gaze darting right and left. “Drake?”
She found him in the last cell.
He blinked against the light of the candle. “What the hell are you doing down here?”
“I was just exploring, and . . . Oh, Drake.” He looked a little better than the last time she had seen him. It was obvious that he had been given the opportunity to bathe and change his clothes, but it still broke her heart to see him locked away in this dreadful place. “How long are they going to keep you here?” she asked, then frowned. He wasn’t chained this time. “Why don’t you just . . .” She lifted her free hand and let it fall. “You know, just leave?”
“I gave Rodin my word I would do as he wished.”
“And that includes letting him torture you? What kind of monster is he?”
“I defied him,” Drake said. “For centuries. Whatever fault there is, is mine.”
She reached through the bars, needing to touch him.
“Keep away from me.”
“Drake, please.”
“No, Elena. Whatever we had is over.”
“Is it?” She hated the way her voice trembled. “You said you loved me.” Why couldn’t she be as cool and detached as he appeared to be?
“I do love you. I will love you as long as I live.” Unable to resist her tears, he moved toward her, one hand reaching through the bars to wipe the dampness from her cheeks. “Did he hurt you?”
She didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about, just as she knew there was no point in lying. “Yes, but I’m all right.” She placed her hand over his, then rubbed her cheek against his palm. “I don’t want to live without you.”
“You must. I need to know you are alive and well. I have made provisions for ownership of Wolfram Castle to be transferred to you.”
“But it’s your home!”
“I will be staying here from now on. Rodin will see that you have everything you need.”
“I don’t want anything from him!”
“Take it. It comes from me, not him.” His gaze moved over her face, as if to memorize every line. “I am sorry for the pain I caused you. Had I stayed out of your life, none of this would have happened. Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. You saved me from my uncle. I’ve loved the time we had together.” She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. “And I love you.”
His hand slid down her cheek, his fingers curling around her nape, gently drawing her closer, closer. Murmuring her name, he pressed his lips to hers.
Holding the candle out to the side, she placed her free hand on his shoulder and closed her eyes. His kiss was so tender, so filled with longing, that it brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes.
Knowing he would not be alone with her again, Drake kissed her harder, deeper, his tongue tasting the sweetness of hers while a voice in the back of his mind urged him to defy his sire, to hold fast to Elena and will the two of them back to Wolfram even though he knew it would be madness. There was no escape. If he defied Rodin again, his sire would hunt him down and destroy him, and Elena, too.
She moaned softly as his tongue tangled with hers. The sound, filled with yearning, fired his desire and he kissed her again and yet again, his rising desire igniting his hunger. His fangs extended. One sharp tip grazed her tongue. The taste of her blood roared through him. It had been days since he’d fed. Need rose up within him, urging him to drag her closer, to drink his fill and, in so doing, ease the dreadful agony that ebbed and flowed with every breath.
Cursing the bars that separated them, he slid his hand over her shoulder and down her arm, his fingers curling over her wrist. He could feel the rapid beat of her pulse beneath his fingertips, hear the quick tattoo of her heartbeat.
Why not take what he so desperately needed? He lifted her arm, ran his tongue over her palm to her wrist. The scent of her warm, living blood called to him, enflaming his hunger, promising an end to his pain. The beating of her heart was like sweet music to his ears. His hand tightened on her arm as his fangs teased the tender skin of her wrist.
“Drake . . . Drake! Stop!”
He was breathing heavily now, the urge to feed riding him with whip and spurs.
Elena struggled in his grasp. She would willingly have given him what he needed, but he wasn’t going to allow her that option. He was going to take what he wanted. For the first time since she had met him, she was in sudden fear for her life.
Muttering, “Forgive me,” he bit down, his fangs piercing the tender skin on the inside of her wrist.
Exclaiming, “Forgive me!” Elena jabbed the candle’s flame against his neck.
With a howl, he released her and backed away, one hand slapping at the scorched cloth of his shirt collar.
“I’m sorry!” she cried. “So sorry!”
“Go.” He forced the word out through clenched teeth. “Go now!”
Sobbing, Elena turned on her heel and bolted up the stairs as if all the hounds of hell were barking at her heels.
She didn’t stop running until she was safely in her room, with the door locked.
Chapter 18
“She was here.” It was not a question.
Drake nodded. There was no point in lying. Rodin could detect Elena’s scent in the air as easily as he.
“You promised not to try to see her.”
Drake glanced at his surroundings—the thick iron bars, the stone floor, the corpse of the large brown rat in the next cell—before he stated the obvious. “She came to me.”
“You expect me to believe you did not summon her? That she found you without any help?”
Drake shrugged. “Believe what you will.”
Rodin lifted his head and sniffed the air. “You drank from her.”
Drake’s hands curled around the bars, his knuckles going white as he tightened his grip. “I tried.”
Rodin grunted softly as he caught the faint odor of burnt cloth. “Are you ready to feed?”
Drake nodded. He was certain Elena would never return to the dungeon, but if she did, he needed to be in control of his hunger.
“I will send one of the sheep to you,” Rodin said, approval in his voice. “Is there anyone in particular you would care for?”
“ No.”
“I have arranged for a meeting between you and Katiya for tomorrow night.”
Drake took a deep breath. Then, knowing it was useless, he asked, “Is there nothing I can say or do to change your mind about this?”
“You are my eldest son. You should have taken your rightful place at the head of the Council centuries ago.”
“Let Olaf take my place as head of the Council. He has made no secret of the fact he wants it. I do not.”
Rodin uttered a short, pithy curse. “I thought we had come to terms on this!”
“Yes, your terms!”
“Did I not agree to your stipulations regarding the woman?”
Drake snorted. “My stipulations? Keeping her safe is nothing more than she deserves. I brought her here as a guest. I expected you to treat her as such.”
“Be careful your weakness does not become your undoing.”
Drake shook his head. “Be careful your arrogance does not become yours.”
“We are much alike,” Rodin remarked as he turned to leave. “Perhaps too much.” He paused, speaking over his shoulder. “Very well,” he said curtly. “I will appoint Olaf as head of the Council until you come to your senses.”
Drake stared after his sire. Rodin had changed in the years since Drake had last seen him, but then, change was inevitable, even for vampires.
It was near midnight when the drone known as Number Ten entered the dungeon, with one of the sheep in tow. Drake regarded the girl impassively as the drone unlocked the door.
“Her name is Sophie,” the drone said, and thrust her into the cell.
She was tall and slender, with long brown hair and timid gray eyes. He guessed her to be no more than fifteen or sixteen. Had he ever been that young? At the moment, he felt every one of his five hundred years.
He grunted softly as her clean feminine scent filled his nostrils. It was forbidden for vampires who were old enough to reproduce to mate with the sheep. It would be doubly forbidden for him, he mused glumly. He was to save his seed for Katiya in hopes she would conceive and bear a son.
But it wasn’t Sophie’s body he wanted, tempting as that might be. It was the blood he could hear whispering through her veins.
She took an involuntary step backward when he moved toward her.
Drake stopped, his eyes narrowing. “Is this your first time?”
She nodded, her gaze darting around the room, looking everywhere but at him. He couldn’t blame her for that. With his scorched flesh and gaunt cheeks, he must look like he had walked out of a nightmare.
“I am sorry the surroundings are not more pleasant,” he muttered with a wry grin.
She said nothing, only stared at him, like a fawn confronted by a wolf.
“I will not hurt you,” he said, and hoped it was true. She flinched when he reached for her hand. Swallowing his anger and his humiliation, he drew her down on the pallet. He could smell the terror on her skin, hear it in the rapid beating of her heart. Taking a deep breath, he murmured, “Relax, child,” as he wrapped her in his arms.
It took all his willpower to control himself. Her blood called to him. His body urged him to take her quickly, to drink and drink and put an end to the incessant pain that wracked him.
She trembled in his arms, her fear increasing his instinct to hunt, to take it all. She cried out when she looked into his face and he knew his eyes had gone red.
“Do not fight me!” he warned, his voice harsh. “I will not be responsible for what happens if you do.”
Eyes tightly shut, she went rigid in his embrace.
Hating himself for what he was about to do, hating Rodin for sending him a woman young and untouched, he lowered his head to her neck and took what he needed so badly, craved so desperately.
Relief was immediate, quickly soothing the pain that burned through him, easing a long and terrible thirst.
He growled when the drone entered the cell, hissed when the girl was wrested from his arms. And then, with a cry, he slammed his fist against the stone floor, despising himself for what he had almost done; indebted, in spite of himself, to Rodin for sending the drone to take the girl away before he drained her dry.
Rodin entered the dungeon two hours later.
Drake regarded his sire through narrowed eyes. Clad in a long wine-colored dressing gown with a high, black velvet collar, the Master Vampire looked like royalty. Which he was, as far as the vampire community was concerned.
Rodin leaned one shoulder against the cell door. “I trust the woman was to your liking?”
Drake shrugged. “They are all the same, as you well know.”
“She satisfied your need?”
“Why did you send that particular female to me?”
“She was young and untouched, exactly what you needed for a quick recovery. Judging from your improved appearance, I would say she was just right.”
“I almost killed her.”
Rodin made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “It happens now and then.”
“But you made sure it wouldn’t happen tonight.”
“One of your brothers fancies her,” Rodin said with a shrug. “I promised him he could have her when you were through.”
Striving for calm, Drake took a deep breath. The indifferent attitude of his sire and his brothers toward the sheep was one of the reasons he had left the Fortress. He was a vampire, but he had fought against becoming what they were. In some ways, he thought it would be kinder if they killed those they fed upon. He couldn’t help thinking that death would be preferable to captivity, knew that he would rather be dead than live the kind of life the sheep led, never knowing freedom, never seeing the outside world, forced to surrender their will to that of their captors. Occasionally, if one of the vampires took a liking to a particular man or woman, they claimed them for their own, a private stash, as it were.
Years ago, one of the human males had led a rebellion against the vampires. It had not ended well for the human population. Many of them had perished here, in the dungeon.
“You are to meet with Katiya tomorrow night,” Rodin said. “It will give the two of you a chance to get acquainted. Your mother has requested that we hold a reception in two weeks to honor your betrothal. You will dress appropriately and you will dance every dance with Katiya. When the evening is over, you will escort her to her chambers.”
“Am I ever to have any freedom again?”
“That depends on you. You will feed again tomorrow night, and every night until you are wed.”
“Send me someone with experience.”
Rodin nodded. “As you wish.” He turned to leave, then paused. “Do not shame me in front of Katiya’s parents,” he warned, then vanished from sight.
Drake grasped the bars in his hands. Katiya’s father, Cezar, was a Master Vampire in his own land. Rodin and Cezar had been allies for centuries. In the past, they had joined forces to fight off legions of human hunters bearing torches and swords and stakes.
But it wasn’t the past that concerned Drake now. It was Elena. For the first time in days, he could sense her whereabouts, knew she was in one of the guest chambers upstairs, sleeping.
And dreaming of him.
Drake smiled faintly. He had promised Rodin he wouldn’t try to see Elena, but he hadn’t promised not to visit her in her dreams.
Elena stirred restlessly, tormented by dreams of Vardin holding her down, forcibly taking her blood, his eyes a hellish red. And then, abruptly, her dream changed and it was Drake holding her, his voice softly whispering her name, his hands gentle as they lightly stroked her hair, the curve of her cheek. She sighed as he kissed her. Was this also a dream? It felt so real.
“Drake?”
“Yes, love?”
“Am I dreaming?”
“Yes. And no.” He kissed her again, kissed her with such aching sweetness it brought tears to her eyes.
His hands caressed her out of her nightgown and then he was lying beside her, molding her body to his, arousing her with strong, masterful hands. She reveled in his touch, her own hands moving over him, reacquainting herself with the width of his shoulders, the swell of his biceps, the taste of his skin on her tongue, the thick silk of his hair.
When he rose over her, his eyes glowing with need, she opened to him gladly. If she lived to be a hundred, there would never be anyone else for her. Only Drake, always and forever, whether they were together or apart.
“I love you,” she murmured.
“And I love you,” he replied. “Whether you are near or far, you will always be the other half of my soul, the wife of my heart.”
He caught her close, their bodies melding, moving together, her heat warming him, his kisses arousing her, until she writhed beneath him, reaching, reaching, for that one perfect moment in time when two became one.
She sobbed with pleasure as he moved deep within her, caught up in the wonder and the magic that sparked between them, bound by the passion between them, bound by the night.
Breathless, she clung to him as pleasure exploded deep within her, cried his name when she felt him withdrawing.
“I love you,” he murmured, his voice fading. “I will always love you.”
She woke naked and alone in her bed, her cheeks damp with tears.
The woman the drone brought him the next night was in her late twenties. There was no fear in her eyes when Drake took her in his arms, only a kind of weary resignation that twisted like a knife in his gut, flaying him with guilt and regret for what he was, for the need that would not be denied.
He bent her back over his arm, his hand sweeping her hair to the side as he lowered his head to her neck. He took what he wanted with uncharacteristic roughness, and sent her away.
When she was gone, he wrapped his hands around the bars and rested his forehead against the cold steel, grateful that Elena would soon be gone from this place, a place that he hated with every fiber of his being.
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