Blood Ties Bundle: Blood Ties Book One: The Turning / Blood Ties Book Two: Possession / Blood Ties Book Three: Ashes to Ashes / Blood Ties Book Four: All Souls' Night. Jennifer Armintrout

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ slapped her across the face. The sound of the impact made me wince. Leaning down, he grasped her chin in his hand and twisted her neck at an uncomfortable angle so she was forced to look up at him. “What did you call me?”

      Fresh tears rolled down her face, mixing with the smeared blood from her hands and the layers of makeup that coated her face.

      “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” She choked on her words. “Master.”

      He shoved her away and dusted his hands together as though he’d touched something dirty and unpleasant. He signaled to the guard. “Take her and get her bandaged up. Then lock her in her room.”

      He turned to me as the guard led Dahlia away. His beleaguered expression morphed to one of pure joy as he looked me over.

      Fidgeting beneath his hot stare, I laughed nervously. “I hope you don’t expect me to call you Master, because you’ll be sorely disappointed.”

      Stepping behind me, he laid his hands on my shoulders. I could smell Dahlia’s blood on them. “You might surprise yourself yet, Carrie. I can make you do things you’ve never imagined.”

      It’s the blood tie, I reminded myself as a wave of pleasure buckled my knees. He doesn’t have any real control over you. I clenched my fists so hard that my nails slashed my palms.

      He pulled me back, slipping his hands beneath my shirt. His skin was warm, as though he’d just fed.

      “Don’t I?” The phantom desire that assaulted me was replaced by a hot, electric shiver as his fingers dipped into the cups of my bra. He snickered at my soft moan. “I’m not using the blood tie now, Carrie.”

      I writhed away, though my flesh cried out to be touched. “Let’s get something straight. I came here to make good on a bargain. This, you touching me, wasn’t in the terms of our agreement.”

      “I bet I’ll change your mind before long,” he said with a smirk. “In the meantime, let me show you around.”

      I adjusted the bag on my shoulder.

      “I can have your things taken to your room,” he told me.

      “I’d rather keep them with me, if it’s all the same.”

      “As you wish.” His tone was gentle, but he obviously didn’t take well to not getting his way.

      We attracted a few curious stares as we walked through the foyer. Cyrus didn’t acknowledge the group of vampires as he leaned over to whisper in my ear. “The Fangs,” he explained. “They’re a motorcycle club from Nevada. They’ve had some trouble with the Movement there and sought safe haven with me. Hence the appalling sofa in the foyer and the intolerable stench of, what are the kids calling it these days? Reefer?”

      “Yeah, about fifty years ago.” I sniffed the air. “It reminds me of college. You ever try it?”

      His deep, rich laugh echoed off the polished marble floors. “Carrie, do I look like someone who’d indulge in such a filthy habit? I prefer more elegant intoxicants.”

      We entered a corridor. Long windows cast silvery squares of moonlight on the floor. Through the darkness I saw a painting on the wall that depicted the grim shape of a giant clutching a headless corpse.

      “Is that…Goya?” While his subjects were gory, an original work by Goya was priceless. With a house like this, his decadent clothing, and round-the-clock security, I supposed I could have wound up with a worse sire. Remembering that Nathan was probably at that moment rooting through the ashes of his ruined shop, I instantly regretted the thought.

      “You know your art, Doctor. Very good.” Cyrus let out a melancholy sigh. “It’s only a copy. The real one hangs in the Prado, despite my numerous attempts to purchase it.”

      “Well, it’s a really good copy.” I reached out to touch the surface of the painting, and he caught my wrist with an apologetic smile.

      “Please, don’t touch. A number of years ago, I had a pet of exceptional talent. He’s also responsible for the bacchanalian orgy depicted on the walls of my bedroom.” His thumb stroked the nearly translucent flesh beneath the cuff of my sleeve, sending a shiver up my arm. “Perhaps you’d like to see that next?”

      I jerked my arm away. “Let’s not press our luck, now.”

      He chuckled and slipped his arm through mine. “This way.”

      At the end of the hallway were large double doors. They opened to the ballroom I’d seen on my first visit, though we entered on a different side. The room had been converted into a makeshift garage, with rows of motorcycles parked on sheets of canvas laid out to protect the floor. Cyrus viewed the objects with some distaste. “I’ll never understand the compulsion some people have to drive themselves anywhere.”

      “Had chauffeurs all your life, huh?” I asked, running my hand across the chrome tank of a motorcycle.

      “Not quite. I was born six hundred years before the advent of the modern automobile.”

      “Six hundred—” I swallowed noisily. “So you were alive during the age of knights and armor and all that crap?”

      “Yes, Carrie, all that crap.” I thought I saw him roll his eyes, but he didn’t make any further comment. Instead, he led me quickly through the room.

      The dining room had been rearranged to accommodate a larger number of people and reminded me of a great hall from a medieval movie. I followed him to the kitchen where the huge, industrial stoves were cold. Pots and pans hung gleaming from the ceiling. The only person present in the room was the elderly black butler, who watched us intently as we entered.

      “How can you afford all this?” I asked as we passed through the room.

      “Good evening, Clarence,” Cyrus tossed off casually, as though he didn’t notice the man’s apparent animosity. Cyrus turned to me and replied, “I’ve killed some very wealthy people in my time, and invested the profit wisely. Your room will be in the family quarters, of course,” Cyrus explained as we climbed the back staircase, “but we’ll go through the servants’ area first so you’ll know where everything is.”

      The servants’ quarters were made up of two narrow hallways that were crammed with small rooms. A few of the Fangs roamed the hall. I heard the buzz of a tattoo needle from somewhere.

      “They’re leaving for Canada in a couple of weeks,” Cyrus whispered, a tight smile pasted on for the benefit of his guests. He spoke through clenched teeth. “I can’t say I’ll be sorry to see them go.”

      “Why do you let them stay here, then?” I asked as we strode past a few of them.

      He shrugged. “They’re anti-Movement. I’m anti-Movement. We have to stick together. When the Movement falls, and it will, I’d like to be poised for a leadership position. It helps to grease the wheels now.”

      The second hallway was guarded by sentries armed with wooden stakes. I thought we’d breeze past them as we had all the household staff so far, but Cyrus stopped. “Gentlemen, this is Dr. Ames. I’m granting her full privilege to the cattle, any time she wishes. Please pass the word along.”

      “Yes, СКАЧАТЬ