Forever Vampire (23 page)

How he would love to bite into the man's neck and tear out his veins. But he was clean now. And getting stronger, thanks to Lyric's support. He would not risk succumbing to the addiction after all her hard work. And yet the faery smelled sweet…so sweet.

“Vail!” Lyric leaned out the back window.

“Ah. There is the beauty who will become my bride.”

“You would sooner die than marry a vampire. You requested she deliver the gown so you could do away with your mistake.”

“True. Well then, I'll have to rip out her veins instead and tie them into pretty bows about her body.”

That horrible image zapped Vail's fall into the sensory allure of the faery and made him wish for an iron stake so he could plunge it into the faery's heart. He rubbed fisted fingers in his palm, testing the edges of his rings. “Like I said, the gown for Lyric.”

“You don't have the gown.”

“She knows where it is. We can complete the deal, if you dare.”

“If I dare?” Zett cocked his head to the side.

“You bastard, you are selling your own to the
vampires! I don't believe the Unseelie court would abide that.”

Zett kicked, landing Vail on the hip. He staggered, but lost the pain of the hit immediately, and delivered a solid right hook, catching the faery on the jaw and tearing through his skin with the iron rings. Zett screamed as the iron burned his skin.

The faery lord leaped away from Vail and hit the brick wall and clung to it, a foot off the sidewalk. His jaw smoked and oozed ichor. “You will not win this one. I will have the gown, and the miserable vampire bitch,” he cried, then pushed off and leaped into the sky. He slipped through to Faery, leaving behind only a glitter of dust.

Vail didn't give him a moment's bother. He scooped up Lyric's mother and slid into the back of the limousine, and ordered the driver to take them to the Santiago home.

 

T
HE CAR PEELED ONTO
the pebbled driveway before the Santiago mansion. Lyric sat next to Vail but hadn't looked at her mother. He sensed her fear and confusion. She was returning to the one place she had escaped, and with the one person who had betrayed her.

Though, it hadn't directly been Charish. She'd been pushed by Constantine to put her daughter into a dangerous position. Vail was not surprised at all.

After the car parked, he lifted Charish, who felt much heavier than when he'd initially picked her up from the ground. He swung his boots out onto the
dew-dappled grass, aware of Lyric exiting out the other side.

The stake still stuck out of Charish's throat. Fingers to the woman's neck, he felt for a pulse and could not find one. Her chest did not rise and fall. Impossible. The only way she could perish from being staked in this manner was if Zett had used poison on the wood—then Vail realized this wasn't a stake, but rather, elf shot, which always contained poison.

Even so, the blood that spilled from her neck glittered.
Like ichor. Take it.
Vail winced as the strange hunger clenched his gut.

“Hurry,” Lyric said. “We'll bring her inside. She keeps a doctor on staff.”

“Lyric.”

“Vail, why are you sitting there?”

He bowed his head, and Lyric stopped. She stood straight, hands once fisted, falling loose at her sides.

Moonlight glinted on the toes of Charish's red shoes. The vampiress's head hung limply over his arm, spilling blond curls under the silvery shine.

The world stopped breathing. Everything was silenced. No wind shimmied through the tree canopies. Not a cricket chirped in the tall grasses. A night bird fluttered its wings in the fountain, stirring up a noiseless spatter.

With “I'm sorry” on his tongue, Vail stood, yet when he opened his mouth, Lyric said, “No, don't speak. Just—come this way.”

She turned and, wobbling once on her high heels, she inhaled a breath, seeking composure. Lyric walked
toward the mansion, her shoes the only sound. Click, click. Click, click.

Vail carried Charish's body in his arms, but it suddenly felt airy, almost as if…

Flakes of black ash fell over his arms and down his thighs to land on his boots and the sidewalk. Her clothing dropped in a pile. All vampires older than a century ashed with death. She must have been alive after taking the elf shot. The poison had worked slowly, and she'd only expired as they'd arrived at the mansion.

“Lyric,” Vail whispered.

He didn't want her to turn around. Didn't want her to see, to associate her mother's death with him. He should have been more alert. Could have grabbed Charish from the sidewalk before being injured. He could have done so much more.

Zett had won this round.

Lyric stopped and looked over her shoulder at the ash at his feet and the traces littering his arms. She did not turn completely around, only bowed her head.

He stepped over the ash and pulled Lyric in for a hug but she shoved him away. “I don't need that. I don't even—”

Love her
were the unspoken words Vail heard louder than his heartbeats. “Yes.” He pulled her unresisting body against his. “You do.”

She nodded that she did, and tucked her head against his shoulder. “Take me inside.”

“G
ATHER THE ASHES,
”
Lyric heard Vail direct the limo driver.

A chill breeze sifted through her hair, icing her skin. The world had changed. She needed… She needed.

Vail lifted her into his arms, and she melted against his neck and chest, threading a hand up to clutch his hair. She didn't speak. It was hard enough to keep from sobbing loudly. It didn't feel right to cry, yet mutinous tears streamed down her cheeks, and her fingertips sought the dark she wished would swallow her whole.

Vail didn't speak or ask her questions, but instead silently carried her inside. His strength buoyed her. He had sensed correctly she could not stand on her own.

The mansion was dark and quiet, morbidly so. The vampires who had previously occupied it in the nineteenth century had chosen the dark woodwork and wallpaper. She'd never liked the foreboding atmosphere.

Vail walked down the long hall in the south wing that was lined with windows overlooking an English garden. He stopped and Lyric felt his muscles tense against her slack body. A long mahogany table stretched before the garden window, covered with blue cloth and centered with a burst of dying white roses. Her mother's favorite.

She wanted to cling to him. She and Vail. Forever.

He will never betray me as others have
.

He set her down on the table, but did not back away. Instead, he arranged her legs to hug his thighs and pulled her close, bowing over her head to kiss it. His fingers slipped through her ugly brown hair, but his tender attentions made her feel a princess with gorgeous locks. He stroked along the curve of her spine, reassuring, soothing.

She nuzzled her face against his neck. The bite marks she had pierced into his flesh were healed, but the scent of him, rich, vivacious and dark, crept through her pores on a glamorous sigh. She'd never known such quiet strength. It felt like a gift, empowering yet peaceful. With his silence Vail gave her acceptance and courage. She had lost her mother. But she had not lost hope in the eyes of her lover. This man would protect her always. Perhaps even, love her always.

She wrapped her arms about him and surrendered to what would be, and lost herself in Vail's quiet calm. “Love me,” she whispered.

“Always.”

And that reminded her. Lyric took the lily bracelet
out from her pocket and gave it to Vail. “Your stepmother gave this to me.”

He didn't touch it. “When did you speak to Cressida?” he asked urgently.

“Earlier today, right before we left your place. She warned me you'd be tormented by a dark hunger, and if I loved you, I should make you wear this.”

He nodded but didn't touch the bracelet. Instead, he simply asked, “Do you want me to wear it?”

Inside, Lyric was shouting
no, no, no,
and she found herself saying, “Asking you to wear this doesn't feel right to me. I think the dark hunger she was talking about is your innate blood hunger, the vampire's desire to drink mortal blood. Something you insist on denying.”

She placed the bracelet on the table beside her leg. “I don't want you to wear it, but I would never dream of asking you to do as I insist. It is your choice. I need to be alone,” she said. “To sit in the gym in the east wing. It's where I go when I don't want to talk.”

“With your silks?”

She smiled at him, but it was forced. “Will you wait for me?”

“Yes, go, do what you need to and take as much time as necessary. I won't leave, Lyric, I promise.”

She kissed him and padded away into the dark mansion.

 

V
AIL WAITED
until Lyric disappeared around a corner, and then strolled outside to the small groomed garden. In the center of the cozy garden, surrounded by a
cobbled patio, a fountain dribbled rainwater. A jade cricket sat on the toes of the cherub holding center stage of the fountain.

He dangled the lily bracelet from a forefinger. He could feel the vibrations of Faery in the simple stem of May bells. He could feel the power. Crave it. Yet what power was it?

You have your own power now. Or you can. You need to take it.

And what then? What would drinking mortal blood do for him? Give him power? To do what? Rhys insisted he claim such power, yet he couldn't figure why it mattered.

Lyric had understood him. She knew exactly what he'd been taught to believe, and that he'd chosen to believe those things, knowing they couldn't possibly be true.

He had desperately wanted to ask her about Constantine, but now was not the right time. She'd referred to him as Connor. Why hadn't she made the connection?

Don't blame her. She couldn't have known
.

What twisted joke was this realm playing on him, to put him so close to his father and yet deny him that knowledge?

He tapped the circlet of May bells against his mouth. This bracelet had protected him from the blood hunger, that much he did know. Cressida's sly means to keep him forever a prisoner of Faery, though he could never again set foot there.

He believed Cressida did care for him in her own
twisted manner. But he also knew she would have been happier had she chosen Trystan instead of him.

Had Vail been the baby left behind, he would have grown up with two vampire parents and may have been in a very different place right now.

Trystan may have had a time of it in Faery. Or not. The Unseelie held a tentative truce with werewolves, and allowed them free rein in Faery. Trystan may have enjoyed growing up there, and who knew, he may have been promised to Kit. But he wasn't a half-breed, so Cressida would have been angry about that, as well. He did not wish Faery upon his brother.

Vail dropped the lily bracelet onto the water's surface. It floated, dancing around the circle of the fountain.

It wasn't difficult to admit now that he was glad Trystan had not been chosen. Trystan was Rhys Hawkes's blood child. The two deserved to be together.

And you deserve no one?

He tilted back his head and closed his eyes. The dark roil in his being had not let up. It commanded he take action. He fisted his fingers.
Kill Constantine
. He'd not forgotten, nor would he ever. It was what he most desired.

And yet. He wanted something more now.

All of her. Her kisses, her body and her blood. Inside him, outside, all over him. A part of him. He'd never wanted anything more than Lyric Santiago. He would sacrifice it all, die for her, even.

A hot burn clutched him from the inside, pulsing
the ache throughout his system. And then he knew he could wait no longer.

“I want her blood.”

 

L
YRIC LAY
on the thick gymnasium mats in the east wing of the mansion staring up at the streams of red fabric suspended at the ceiling from carbon swivel hooks. The three-story room was quiet and she'd turned on one light, which spotlighted the silks. She'd changed into soft yoga pants and a formfitting shirt and had washed away the tears that had fallen unbidden once alone in the bathroom.

Now she closed her eyes and a tear trickled down her cheek and landed on the mat. She mourned her mother's passing, and was calm with it.

Charish had lived over a century. She'd done the best she could with the knowledge and habitat she'd chosen for herself. Lyric loved her, and knew Charish had loved her in return. She would always remember her bubbly laughter, her inability to walk by a spider without shrieking and her joy for shopping in cosmopolitan cities.

Saying goodbye was easier than she expected, perhaps only because Lyric was now frightened for her future. It should feel easy now, she mutinously thought. But her heart told her that her world had been flipped. Everything Charish had begun while alive would require reckoning.

Like her mother's deal with the Unseelie lord.

Spreading her arms out across the mats, she breathed deeply.
Don't think,
she reminded herself.
It was how she moved beyond tough situations. This room was meant for serenity. When working with the silks she could only feel peace.

She toed an end of dangling red fabric. Years ago, when Leo had been training, Lyric had become fascinated with the aerial silks used in the course of his training. While Leo had mastered the skill to utilize during break-ins to steal, she found the acrobatics calmed her, returned her to the innocence of her childhood, when summer camps and stolen kisses in the forest had ruled.

Grasping the strong yet giving fabric, she pulled her body up and, hand over hand, worked her way upward until she was suspended twenty feet above the landing mats. A swing thrust her body toward the other hanging silks, and she grasped another.

Hooking an ankle in the fabric with a deft twist, she dropped her handhold and hung upside down, gliding an arm along the silks to grip. Closing her eyes, and spreading out her arms to bring out the fabric like butterfly wings, she surrendered to the graceful art with pleasure.

Much like surrendering to the faery dust had felt.

“Never again,” she murmured. She would never put herself in a situation where she might imbibe dust. And she intended to be there for Vail should he decide the same.

 

V
AIL WANDERED THE DARK HALLS
in the Santiago mansion. It was a real castle, with musty stone walls and old tapestries on the floor and the walls. The furniture
was dark, heavy, and reeked of ancient times. He had no idea how far back the Santiago lineage went. He sensed Charish had touched every part of this home, and it wasn't a good sensation, but not repulsive either. Just different.

He didn't want to impose on Lyric's privacy, because he'd meant it when he'd told her he would wait as she took as long as she needed. Much as he should be looking for Zett—who was now a murderer.

And Constantine.

And find the gown to save his uncle's ass.

But he could no longer deny the aching hunger. He'd felt the pain in his home just before the rock had smashed the window. It had returned as a hollow ache below his breastbone. Now that he was clean of ichor, he needed blood.

Cherry jasmine perfume led him down the hall. It tickled his veins, teasing his yearnings into desires. Saliva wet his mouth. A hot pulse burned around the ache. Everything he touched, every chair rail, wall or slip of fabric heightened his senses and opened him up to receive.

So this was the blood hunger?

What he'd once feared, he now craved.

Was it merely a replacement for his previous addiction? Vampires could become addicted to blood.

No, he mustn't rush ahead of himself. He hadn't tasted blood yet.

“But soon.”

You will step down to join the ranks of filth? Vampires are lesser than you.

No, he couldn't subscribe to Cressida's beliefs now. He wasn't a faery and he didn't belong in Faery. He'd never belonged there. It was time to claim his heritage from the person he trusted most.

He traced the stone wall with his fingers and strolled through the darkness. He sensed her presence as he took the stone stairs and knew she was in the room ahead with the door cracked open. Dim light crept along the door frame and veiled the stone floor.

Stopping outside the door, he put his back against the wall and wondered if he dared intrude. He should not. She'd been through too much the past few days. He owed her this time alone.

They were both alone now, without family. No, he could no longer cling to that tired excuse. He had family—he simply needed to embrace it. He would do so, with Lyric in his arms.

A swish of fabric tickled his curiosity, and Vail could not resist peeking inside the room. It was a gymnasium fashioned after something only the Addams family could appreciate, with dark stone walls, a dusty buttressed ceiling and low lighting.

An incredible sight stilled his breath.

A beautiful vampiress performed a ballet in the air, suspended by rich, red fabric strips. Must be the aerial silks she had mentioned to him. Her hobby, a means to relax.

Captivated, he carefully pushed open the door and walked inside. Low light lit only the center of the mat-carpeted room where Lyric worked out. The slide
of her hair along the red silks whispered to his cravings, but he resisted in favor of the visual satisfaction. Graceful muscles pulsed and elongated, strong limbs belied her delicate beauty.

“You're staring, vampire.”

“So I am.” He splayed out his hands. “I didn't mean to intrude. You looked so beautiful. I'll leave.”

“No.” She slid down one strip of fabric, stopping about six feet from the mat. “Join me.”

“Ch'yeah—no.” Vail thumbed his jaw and shook his head. “Sweetie, you were literally flying. You looked more graceful than any faery I've seen in flight. There's no way I could—”

“Quit grumbling, and give it a go. It's just strength and knowing when to grip and when to trust yourself.”

Sounded complicated, and off the chart for his skill level.

“I shouldn't infringe on your—”

“Mourning? I've had a good cry, said blessings for my mother's passing. I need to connect right now, Vail. Please—” an ache rasped her voice “—don't leave me alone.”

No, he couldn't walk away from her. Not from the heady scent of life that tormented his wanting soul. But more so, he wanted to hold the hand she held out, and never let go.

Vail took off his boots and mounted the foot-thick blue vinyl mats, finding a new balance to navigate the cushy surface. Lyric dangled a silk over his head and he pulled it down to inspect. It was flexible and
stretchy and he didn't believe it could support his weight. His lover was a bird compared to his bulk.

“Take your shirt off or the buttons will get caught on the silks.”

He did so, tossing it over by his boots, and doubting his sanity as he complied with her request. “You want me to strip naked?”

Her laughter felt good. “Maybe. But let's try a few easy moves first.” She performed a move that worked her gracefully up the fabric, supporting most of her weight by twisting the fabric about one foot. Lyric called down. “Just pull yourself up. If you catch me, you can have me.”