I wiped a trickle of blood from my nose, sickened at my compulsion to taste it. My eyes adjusted to the dark, and I saw the room was very lavish. Leaded windowpanes stretched from the gilded ceiling high above all the way to the marble floor where I lay sprawled. A fresco was painted on the wall. I couldn’t make out the figures distinctly, but there was a lot of nakedness going on. It was like I’d died and been sent to a really Baroque version of hell. Somehow, though, I couldn’t imagine Satan having bad enough taste to hang red velvet drapes.
Six black-clad men stood guard around the room, two stationed at each door, including the one I’d just been thrown through. The thrower stepped in. He was dressed the same as the guards.
“Watch her,” he ordered the two closest men, and all the sentries nodded their heads.
When the thrower left, I climbed to my feet and took a few steps to the right. Each of the guards’ heads swiveled slightly to follow me. I stepped to the left, with the same results. I had an overwhelming compulsion to boogie a little and see if they copied that, too.
Just then a door opened to admit a shadowy figure.
Though the sliver of light spilling in distorted my vision, I could tell from her scent it was Dahlia. My mouth watered at the memory of her blood.
One of the guards reached out as if to prevent her from entering, but she raised her hands and he inexplicably dropped his arm. A tremor of fear seemed to go through all the sentries. It was as tangible as a tidal wave crashing over my head. They were afraid of Dahlia.
She crossed the room slowly and waved a hand at the darkness.
“Illuminate,” she commanded, and light flooded the room.
I forced myself not to retreat as she advanced. “Nice trick. I prefer the clapper, but to each his own.”
“I can’t remember where I picked it up, but it’s handy,” she said casually. “Not as useful as my other ones.”
She walked in a wide circle around me. “So, you lived. I would have thought there was a lesson in that experience.”
I shrugged. “Maybe I’m a slow learner.”
“Really? Then perhaps you need a visual aide.” She waved her hand again and mumbled a long command in a language I didn’t recognize. Nathan’s lifeless body appeared on the floor, his blood in a dark pool around him.
The sight stole my breath. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came. But Nathan wasn’t dead. This is just a trick, I told myself. Don’t let it rattle you.
The vision evaporated as quickly as it had appeared.
Dahlia laughed like a child with a new toy. “You bought that? For a doctor, you’re not very bright.”
I rounded on her and felt the change come over me. For a moment, I thought I saw fear in her eyes, but she stood her ground and didn’t utter a noise when I tackled her to the floor. I wanted to rip her throat out, not to feed, just to kill. The thought of her harming the one person who’d bothered to help me made me insane with rage.
A series of loud claps interrupted me before I could deliver a killing blow. I looked up, and Dahlia kicked me away with more force than I would have expected.
Cyrus himself strode toward us. His blond hair seemed longer, falling almost to the floor. He wore an ancient-looking brocade robe the color of blood, and his bare feet peeked out below the hem.
This was the monster who’d made me a vampire. He didn’t look like the creature who’d attacked me. His face was young and handsome. Only his mismatched eyes hinted at his true nature. That, and his facial expression. He looked furious.
“If you don’t want to be the next meal on my table, you won’t harm her again,” he warned Dahlia in a deep, sophisticated voice.
But he didn’t spare her a glance as he approached me. His every step resonated with predatory grace. A tremor surged through my body as our gazes connected. A smirk of satisfaction twisted his lips as he reached out to pull me to my feet.
Dahlia sniffled pathetically. Cyrus turned and pointed one finger in her direction. The deadly sharp nail gleamed in the light, manicured to elegant perfection.
“Get out!” he shouted, and she scrambled to her feet, running from the room as fast as her plump legs could carry her.
“Disobedience, you’ll find, is the one thing I cannot tolerate from my pets,” Cyrus said, turning to me with an apologetic shrug. “Please, allow me to introduce myself. I’m—”
“We’ve met before.”
He arched an exquisitely sculpted brow. “Have we?”
With lightning fast precision, he pinned me against his chest. My veins burned at the physical contact, and I held myself absolutely still, afraid that at any moment I would writhe against him shamelessly like a cat in heat. This was the blood tie Nathan had spoken of. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
Never in my life had I felt as if I were spiraling out of control the way I did at that moment, nor had I felt such absolute relief as I did with my sire’s arms around me. The loneliness of the past months vanished when he touched me, as though all I had needed to satiate the agitated emptiness in my soul was to be with him. He made me feel so strangely complete that I wondered if I would ever be truly happy again without him or if I’d miss my old life if I never left this room again.
Cyrus leaned his cheek against mine and sniffed me.
I heard the blood singing in my sire’s veins, compelling me not to struggle. I can’t say I would have wanted to escape even if I could.
“Oh, yes. I know you now.” His voice was a rich, awed whisper in my ear. “You’re even more beautiful than I’d remembered.”
He ran his hands up and down my arms. I trembled. My knees buckled and I sagged backward, relying on his strength to keep me up.
Now I knew why the Movement thought of the tie in such absolute terms. It was better than love, better than success. The blood tie was the culmination and fulfillment of all human desires. I couldn’t imagine how anyone would want to resist it.
“What’s your name?” Cyrus’s cold breath teased my ear as he spoke.
“Carrie,” I answered without hesitation.
“The cards suggested I had a surprise coming. I had no idea it would be so…exciting.” He pushed his pelvis against my backside, his cock stiff and straining through the robe. His fingertips brushed the back of my hand, and he laced his fingers with mine.
A dizzying buzz forced my eyes closed, and I was overwhelmed with the unpleasant sensation of rushing rapidly forward. I forced my eyes open, and my vision swam. When it cleared, the room was gone. Instead, I saw the E.R., and my own panicked expression. I was inside Cyrus’s mangled body as he lay on the gurney. I saw myself staring in abject horror at the patient before me.
I jerked my hand from his and found myself in my own body, in the present time.
“My very own angel of mercy.” I felt his tongue, surprisingly hot, СКАЧАТЬ