Isadora (Masters Among Monsters Book 2) (29 page)

“You can see me,” Paris finished for him.

“Yes. All the way down to your untied Doc Martens.”

Ice swirled in a glass as Paris glanced down in the direction of his shoes.

“It’s the left one.”

He frowned. This was such an odd conversation to be having with someone he couldn’t see, yet as he sat there, he realized that this was the first time since he’d arrived that he didn’t feel an immediate threat of danger.
 

This vampire, whoever he was, seemed to genuinely want to talk to him.
 

As he tucked his feet under the chair, he decided to take a risk and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Look at you, already trying to bargain with me. I do like to play games, I must say. But alas, I have only had one drink. You really should keep that little tool up your sleeve until we are halfway through the bottle.”
 

The laugh that followed actually made Paris grin for a second before he caught himself. “It’s only fair, don’t you think? If I tell you mine, you tell me yours.”

“No…I most certainly do not,” he said, and the ice in the glass clinked. “You barged into
my
bedchambers, not the other way around. Not to mention you have yet to try my hundred-year-old bourbon. That’s quite the insult.”

Damn. One hundred years.

“
Ahh
, there’s your voice. Your thoughts,” the vampire said with much satisfaction. “For a minute there, I thought—wait a second.”

When a soft breeze ruffled his hair, Paris’s pulse thundered. The vampire was now back in front of him.

“What is your name?”

Paris raised his head, the voice having come from above where he was sitting, and suddenly, any feeling of safety vanished. He really wished he had stood. Instead, he reached for the glass, and it was pushed into his hand. He sucked a breath back and raised the glass to his lips with unsteady fingers.
 

After he’d downed the liquid courage, he said, “Why don’t you just look and find out?”

Before he knew it, he was caged in against the chair, two arms as solid as iron bars trapping him in place.

“Don’t you understand? I do not wish to
take
it from you. I recently had decisions made for me and it…altered my opinion on how to conduct certain things.”

Paris had no idea what he was talking about, but just like when he’d first entered the room and the male had pressed him to the wall, silky hair grazed his cheek and he wondered what the vampire looked like.

“Do not wish for that,
glikie andra.
I am not something you wish to ever see. Trust me.”

Sweet man?
Interesting choice of words.
 

“I thought you said you wouldn’t do that,” Paris said. “Go inside my head.”

“No,” the voice said, now close to his ear. “I said I wouldn’t
take
answers. Not that I wouldn’t listen to things pertaining to me. Now tell me your name.”

Paris turned his head. Though he couldn’t see the shape or silhouette of anything, he did catch a glowing, blue glint of light and somehow knew that it was one of the vampire’s eyes.

“It’s Paris. Paris Antoniou. What’s yours?”
 

He wasn’t sure if he would get an answer, but as the light vanished, he sensed when the male’s presence left him. He’d gone back to his corner, once again putting distance between them. A distance Paris sensed the vampire did not necessarily want but felt he must keep.

“My name is Thanos.”

“Thanos,” Paris mused. “That means immortal.”

More ice was dropped into a glass, and then alcohol was poured.
 

“One of life’s many great ironies,” Thanos said. “Perhaps my mother knew something I did not.”

Paris nodded.
Huh,
despite knowing that the fear fueling his idiotic complacency should have him terrified at being held against his will, he was actually enjoying himself. He liked talking to this male.

“I told you not to think like that.”

“I can’t help it. You’re being very kind considering what you are and who I am.”

“I don’t care who you are,” Thanos announced. “I just care that we have never met before today. So sit with me here and drink the night away, Paris Antoniou.”

As Paris brought the glass to his mouth, he asked, “And where exactly are we?”

“Why, we are in hell, my friend, and I believe the devil himself sent you.”

Paris swallowed the fiery liquid and then a low sinister voice, not the male across the room, but an unfamiliar one entered his mind and said,
He doesn’t know how very right he is. Welcome, Paris Antoniou. You don’t know how long I have been waiting for you.

WHEN ISADORA AND Diomêdês faded into her chambers, Alasdair got to his feet. He lowered his head in a gesture of age-old respect when one was in the presence of an Ancient, but it was also no doubt due to his being on the outs with her sire as of late. Something her kidnapping had led to.

“Alasdair,” Diomêdês said, and the signal that her cousin could raise his head was received.
 

Alasdair looked at both of them before speaking. “Diomêdês.”

“I see you have been keeping guard for my Isadora.”

“That is correct.”

“Quite a risk, is it not? The rest of the lair will not be happy when they learn who she has in her bedchambers.”

Isadora winced at the blunt declaration.

As Alasdair looked over his shoulder at the man still secured to her bedpost, he gave a shrug. “The way I see it, it is nobody’s business who an Ancient’s first-sired brings to their bed.”

“Even if he is a threat to the very existence of our kind?”

“Right now, he is handcuffed and knocked unconscious. He doesn’t seem that threatening to me. Perhaps the lair should trust their leaders to know what is best for them. You have not misled us yet. In fact, I would say you have led us quite well, considering we are well over two thousand years and thriving.”

“This is true.”

“Of course it is. These men, demigods if we are to believe this man, they were sent with one purpose. Thus far, they have failed or not followed through. Would it not be wise to see if we can alter their path? Sway their purpose? It is clear this one holds affection for Isadora. Why not use that?”

“As Vasilios has with your yielding?”

When Alasdair’s eyes narrowed, Isadora thought he was about to get himself in trouble by telling Diomêdês to fuck off. Instead, he bit back whatever thought he’d originally had and replied, “Yes.”

“You sound just like him, you know. Vasilios. He would be proud of you at this moment.”
 

As Alasdair preened under the praise, Diomêdês walked around him to inspect the man sprawled over her bed.
 

Isadora found Alasdair’s gaze and mouthed, “Thank you.”
 

“For once you may be right, Alasdair,” Diomêdês told him.

“Imagine that,” her cousin said as he shook his head. Then he flashed past her towards the door.
 

She couldn’t help but grin at his haughty response. It was so like the Alasdair she knew, a welcome relief after everything they’d recently been through.
 

She’d wondered if things would ever feel the same again, especially with Thanos absent and so despondent. So, before he left, she took his arm and murmured, “Thank you. Thank you for coming for me.”
 

Alasdair swung the door open and pushed into her mind,
There is nothing to thank me for, Isa. You are of my blood. I will always come for you when you are in danger
. Then he was gone.

She looked back to where Diomêdês was looming over Elias and let her gaze shift between the man and her sire. Both males were so incredibly different. The only thing they had in common was how bold and headstrong they were, and seeing them so close made her question how this would ever work.
 

As if she’d spoken aloud, Diomêdês asked her, “Do you want it to work, Isadora?”

“Yes,” she told him, sure of that at least. “But is this wise?”

As she made her way across the room to him, a spark entered her sire’s eyes.
 

“Are matters of the heart ever wise?” he asked.

“We do not possess a heart,” she pointed out.

He raised a hand to her. “Come.”

Her eyes never wavered from his as she walked closer. Whenever he showed this side to her, she knew she would follow him to the ends of the Earth should he ask. So she placed her hand in his.

When he drew her to him, he told her, “You have the kindest heart I have ever known, my Isadora.”

Her eyelids fluttered closed at his kind words.

“Just because it does not beat does not mean we don’t experience the same conflicts we once would have. We have just learned to push aside emotions that make us weak. But, for some, they are easier to find.”

“Because I am female?”

He cupped her cheek and frowned. “No. Because you are mine, and your heart is what first drew me to you. Why would I ever want you to deny what is inside it? I never wanted you to forget that, and because of you, I still possess the use of mine.”

As her eyes blurred with tears borne of joy, the sheets on the bed rustled, capturing her attention. She was surprised to find Elias wide awake and staring right at her.

AS ELIAS CAME to, he was stunned to find he was still alive. However, that was definitely the case considering the low voices floating all around him. Voices he recognized as Isadora and her sire’s. His arms were stretched over his head, and the metal of new cuffs was cool on his wrists. He struggled, trying to sit up, but it was no use.
 

When he opened his eyes, he saw who was standing with Isadora by the bed.
 

“I see you have finally awoken,” the vampire said, shocking Elias because he wasn’t even looking at him.
 

A smile spread across Isadora’s lips, and he was curious what the cause of it was.

The fact that he was cuffed to her bed? The way they’d rolled around down at the waterfall? Or maybe it was because she’d knocked him unconscious.
Yeah, that’s probably it.
Who knew when it came to this female?
Hell
, maybe it was the simple fact that her sire was about to help him meet a horrid death.
 

As the tall, silver-haired vampire turned to face him, Elias sucked in a breath. His blazing, blue eyes were as full of emotions as Isadora’s when they landed on him.
 

“My Isa has been waiting on you. We have much to discuss.”

Isadora sat on the mattress beside him, and as it dipped, his body pitched her way.
 

“Elias,” she said, never taking her eyes from him. “I want to formally introduce you to my sire, my Ancient, Diomêdês.”

She said it with such sincerity that he couldn’t help his slight hilarity.
 

“It is rather formal, isn’t it?” he asked. “Considering I’m in handcuffs?”

A frown marred her perfect features as she scowled at him, and as her mouth opened to no doubt snap at him, the male placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Forgive us the handcuffs. Isadora seems to believe you would behave, but I do not trust you just yet, and since your blood seems to be close to liquid silver, it’s best we keep you secure for now.”

Elias tugged on the chains and grit his teeth. “Why am I still alive?”

“Because that is how she prefers you. And what Isadora wants, I always try to give.”

“Isn’t that nice.”

“You have a foul temper, Mr. Fontana, when we are doing everything in our power to be, shall we say, polite?”

Elias slid his gaze back to Isadora. “Where is Paris? You know, the shy guy from my office. Remember him?”

“I do. As far as I am aware, he is still in the holding cell. Unharmed.”

“How reassuring. If anything has happened to him—”

“The only person in jeopardy of something happening to them is you.”

As Elias glared up at the male, the side of his mouth twitched. He realized he amused him. This bastard liked his defiance.
 

“Uncuff me,” he demanded of him.