Page 7

Chapter Six

Hours pass and I feel every ticking second of them.

A dull ache settles over my body, like a flu virus zapping my energy.

At least it’s not the sharp agony of before.

My hip and shoulder joints ache and there is no comfortable position.

I pace the length of my chains, testing the boundaries.

I can just reach an ensuite, and I have to wonder at the thought given to the preciseness of my restraints.

The mirror is old, more polished metal than glass, and I don’t like the chaos I see staring back at me.

My eyes move over the walls, following grooves between the stones, imagining they are little trails leading to better places.

Anywhere but here.

A servant brings a tray with a carafe of warm blood and a plate of rare steak.

He seems scared of me, and I hear the soft clatter of his shaking hands as he sets the food down.

Funny, since he works for a vampire, and I see puncture wounds healing in several places on his skin.

Not funny, because there is a chance I really would try to eat him given half a chance.

I devour both blood and steak like a feral animal, happy no one is watching, and disgusted with myself even as I savor the taste.

Afterward, I feel stronger.

The room sharpens.

Colors become more vivid, and sounds are more distinct.

Including the whispers that seem to come from inside the walls.

I follow a groove with my finger, letting it travel slowly along a wall until I reach a corner.

I remember that road trip I took with Paul and Diana.

Monsters were chasing us because Conrad told everyone I started the birthday fire that killed my family and others.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

I guess it was.

That trip, those stolen moments with Paul, the innocent perfection of Diana’s childhood, they were the most human I’d ever felt.

And just like mortality, the memory is so fragile.

I feel like I have to bury it inside of me to keep it safe from the ugliness whispering to get in.

I press my cheek to the stone, trying to hear its secrets.

At first, I think the whispers are simply my imagination, maybe the stressful aftermath of the goblins, or just my mind playing cruel tricks as sanity slips.

The artificial lights dim behind the curtains to the fake windows to mark the evening in this underground fortress.

I can see how it might trick someone who hasn’t seen a sunset for five hundred years, but to me the light looks off.

“Tam-tam...”

I stiffen.

The whispers grow clearer and more insistent.

I still can’t wrap my head around how even death doesn’t silence my brother.

I thought it was over when the amulet killed him.

But I didn’t know then what I know now.

His spirit didn’t just disappear.

“Miss me?”

“Conrad?” I stay pressed against the wall, afraid to turn around to where the voice originates.

He doesn’t answer me, and I release a slow breath.

It’s all in my head.

I move to look at a dark corner to prove he’s not there.

I’m wrong.

I see Conrad’s face.

The familiar smile mocks me.

I wait for it to fade.

He can’t be back.

The necromancer has him imprisoned.

Conrad shouldn’t be haunting anyone.

“Death becomes you.”

I lean against the wall, liking the protection of it behind my back.

“You’re not real. This isn’t real.”

“Time off for good behavior.” His voice is more corporeal now and I see his lips move.

His eyes are two hollow dark pits in his transparent body.

The shadows writhe in impossible ways, and I smell the musk of old books and ash.

The scents don’t belong in the room.

“This isn’t happening.” I can’t deal with a Conrad hallucination right now.

It’s too much.

“The necromancer would not have freed you without telling us.”

“Call it work release then,” he answers.

Apparently, even in death, he still isn’t done trying to ruin my life.

“I heard what you did to Leviathan’s goblins.” Is that pride in his voice?

Amusement?

“I wish I could have seen their faces when they found you among all the entrails.”

I don’t ask him whose faces he’s referring to.

“I didn’t want to kill anything. I don’t.”

He laughs.

“But you did, want to, didn’t you?”

A knock at the door makes me jump in surprise.

The shadows instantly return to normal, and Conrad vanishes like smoke.

“Come in,” I whisper, my voice shaky.

Costin enters, looking exhausted.

Vampires don’t get physically tired, but the weight of the meeting seems to have worn on him.

“Feeling better?” he asks, noting the empty food tray.

“Sure. Yeah.” I don’t mention Conrad.

I don’t know what I saw or heard, and the last thing I need is Costin knowing I’m hallucinating my dead homicidal brother on top of everything else.

I cross back to the bed, the chains rattling with each step to remind me of my situation.

He sits at the edge of the bed, careful to keep space between us.

“The council wants to meet you.”

“Meet me or execute me?” I mutter.

“It’s not like that.”

I can see he’s sugarcoating the truth.

“Let me guess, they want to blame me for your sister’s ritual, since I was there, and they tried to use Draakmar’s magic through me. Clearly, that makes it my fault.” I sound grumpy but I don’t care.

He sighs.

“They’re curious about you. A hybrid has never survived this long before. They want to understand what you are.”

“They want to lock the monster in a dungeon,” I counter, crossing my arms over my chest.

I’m tired of being treated like a science experiment gone wrong.

“You’re not a monster, Tamara.”

“Tell that to the new goblin painting in your hallway.”

His expression darkens.

“That wasn’t entirely you. The attack was provoked.”

I arch a brow.

It sure as hell felt like me.

I remember the feel of bones breaking under my hands and the sick satisfaction I got from each crack.

“Goblins don’t come into the home of a master vampire on their own. It’s too bold and it goes against their need for self-preservation. The fact that they were here says someone sent them.”

“Like when I was a baby,” I say.

Costin frowns and walks toward the corner where I’d seen Conrad’s ghost.

He runs his hand through the air and turns to me with a frown.

“Who was here?”

A chill runs through me.

I don’t want to answer.

“Tamara?” he insists.

I say nothing.

I don’t want it to be true.

“I smell necromancy magic,” he insists.

“Is that what that is?” I whisper, not meeting his gaze.

I should tell him about Conrad.

About the whispers.

But what if it’s just my damaged mind playing tricks?

Please let it be my damaged mind.

“Leviathan?” I ask, hoping he tells me I’m wrong.

“Possibly.” Costin moves closer, and he touches my cheek, forcing my eyes to meet his.

“Did something happen to make you think of him in particular?”

“He’s creepy.” A tremor works over me from his touch.

“At my birthday, he gave me this eyeball-shaped ring. He told me I should wear it and that it’s enchanted with an old family recipe.”

The jewelry would have let him watch me like a supernatural spy cam.

Thank the gods I never put it on.

I wonder if he’s still trying to spy on me, if that’s how he knows what’s happening.

“He did what?” Costin looks as if he wants to go defend my honor.

I find myself reaching for him, needing contact, needing to feel something other than fear and confusion.

I stand from the bed.

My fingers brush his cheek, and he goes utterly still.

“Tamara,” he warns.

“We need to talk about this.”

“Shh,” I answer, brushing my fingers over his lips.

“Let me remember what it felt like before all this.”

I want the world to fade.

I want to lock us inside this room and never leave.

Costin hesitates, then leans into my touch.

His skin is cool beneath my fingers, familiar yet strange now that my own temperature has dropped.

“Everything is so…” I explore the subtle texture of his skin, the faint stubble on his jaw, details my human senses had missed.

“Heightened,” he finishes for me with a nod.

I pull him closer, and he comes willingly.

He rests his forehead against mine.

I breathe him in, noticing his stillness in comparison.

I hear his heartbeat.

I’m not sure what to make of us.

Vampire and hybrid.

Sire and progeny.

Lovers caught in an impossible situation.

“I hate what you did to me,” I say, my lips hovering close to his mouth.

“But I can’t hate you.”

He cups the back of my neck, gentle yet possessive.

“I will find a way to make this right.”

I want to say there is no making this right.

Even as I think it, I close the distance between us, pressing my lips to his.

The kiss is different now, hungry, wild.

My hybrid senses make the sensations more intense.

I can taste the lingering traces of blood on his lips, can hear the unnecessary breath he draws in.

The sire bond surges between us, a living thing that both connects and divides.

When we break apart, his eyes are filled with red.

“We shouldn’t?—”

“I know.” I can’t pull away, even as reality crashes in.

“Nothing’s changed.”

I’m still a freak.

“Everything’s changed.” He steps back to put distance between us.

“Except for my feelings.”

I snatch his forearm before he can retreat.

My strength surprises both of us and he stumbles into me.

The chains on my ankles rattle to remind me I’m a prisoner.

I don’t care.

Not in this moment.

A primal need is taking over me.

It’s hunger and rage and desire, all blended in an implosion I can’t control.

“Don’t leave me.” The growl in my voice sounds deadly and not entirely human.

Red fills the whites of his widening eyes in response to my aggression.

A rumble starts in my chest as I sense his predator rising to meet mine.

I smell his desire.

It swirls around us.

His pulse quickens like drumbeats in my ears.

“Tamara, stop. You’re not in your right?—”

I silence him by dragging him to me.

My fingers dig into his silky shirt, and I feel it rip under my extending claws.

The destructive sound excites the emotions raging inside me.

I like it so I rip more.

I don’t hesitate.

I don’t wait for permission.

I want this and I’m going to take it.

I press my mouth to his.

My fangs nick his bottom lip, and the taste of his blood ignites something feral in me.

I tear off his clothes, growling into our kiss.

He tries to pull away and presses his hands against my arms as if to calm me.

“Tamara, wait?—”

“No.” I push him toward the bed, blocking his path to the door.

The chains limit my movements but not my resolve.

“I’m through waiting.”

I slide my tongue down his jaw and throat, over the exposed vampiric-pale skin beneath his tattered shirt.

My teeth tease the skin over his collarbone, and I can’t resist pressing hard enough to leave marks.

Drops of blood stain my hostile seduction.

The monster inside me wants to claim him, to make him mine as thoroughly as his blood has made me his.

I want to control him.

No.

It’s more than that.

I want to possess him.

“If you want me to stop,” I pant against his skin, “make me.”

He doesn’t even try to fight.

A groan escapes him, and suddenly, he’s matching my aggression.

My cotton gown rips like tissue paper in his hands, leaving me exposed and trembling.

He grips my hips, lifting me off the ground.

The chains jingle and I feel the weight of them pulling at my suspended legs.

There is something very seductive about being both powerful and vulnerable.

“Is this what you want?” he demands.

“More,” I answer, wrapping my legs around his waist.

I claw his back, feeling the skin break under my touch.

I want him to make me forget what I am.

The monster wants to tear him apart.

We fall onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and torn clothing.

The chains rattle with each movement, a strange melody behind our growls.

Our lovemaking is as much a battle as it is an embrace, and there’s nothing gentle about the desperate way we come together.

It takes little effort to tear the remaining tatters of his clothes from him.

My claw marks heal on his flesh as soon as I make them.

When he’s finally naked, I crawl over him, pinning him down with my newfound strength.

I straddle him.

The vampire in me wants to consume.

The wolf wants to dominate and tear apart.

The woman doesn’t get a say.

“Tell me to stop. You’re not yourself.” His eyes are so red they almost look black.

“I’m exactly what you turned me into,” I snarl, bending to bite at his chest.

The last of his control snaps.

With a ferocity that matches my own, he flips me onto my back and pins my wrists above my head.

The sire bond rises between us, a living current of power I can’t resist.

It makes me want to obey him.

I feel his hunger resonating with mine, amplifying everything I have become.

The bed frame creaks under our supernatural strength.

His eyes capture mine and force me to look at him.

When he enters me, it’s not sweet and gentle.

It’s war.

The force of our lovemaking would have damaged my mortal body, but I’m not human anymore.

I meet his thrusts with my own, body arching off the bed, chains tangling our legs.

A cry of half-pleasure, half-challenge escapes me.

The chains anchor my movements.

I wrap my legs around his waist the best I can, forcing him deeper and harder.

My nails score down his back, leaving bloody trails.

Through our bond, I feel flashes of his emotions.

There’s guilt tangled with desire and fear mixed with pride over what I’ve become.

The flow goes both ways.

I know he senses my rage and confusion, and my desperate need to feel anything other than fear.

My hybrid monster howls for release.

My body shifts subtly, fangs lengthening, muscles coiling with supernatural strength.

Costin responds in kind, fully unleashing his own vampire nature.

Climax hits hard.

Violent.

Relentless.

My body convulses around him, and I scream his name.

Without conscious thought, I clamp my mouth down on his shoulder.

The taste of his blood pushes me over another edge, as waves of pleasure crash through me.

Costin follows moments later.

His fangs find my neck.

He drinks deeply, completing the circuit between us.

The double bite intensifies everything, the sire bond pulsing with power and possession.

For several heartbeats, we remain locked together, blood and bodies joined.

Gradually, awareness returns.

I release my bite, licking the wound closed as instinct dictates.

He does the same, his tongue gentle against my neck.

When I look around, I see the destruction we’ve caused.

Our clothes and the bedding are in shreds.

The headboard is cracked.

One of the anchors holding my chains is bent from the force of our pulling at it, but magic keeps it intact.

Costin brushes blood-matted hair from my face.

His expression is a complex mix of satisfaction and concern.

“Are you back?”

I blink, realizing how far gone I’d been, how completely the monster took control.

“I... I think so?”

He doesn’t ask if I’m all right.

We both know I’m not.

Instead, he presses his forehead to mine, a gesture that feels more intimate than what we just shared.

“I’m sorry.”

I feel closer to normal than I have since this change started.

I don’t need to ask him what he’s sorry for.

His guilt and shame linger inside me.

It hums through my veins.

I look at the destruction.

It’s the perfect representation of my life—everything broken and in shambles.

Costin rises and disappears into the bathroom.

He returns wearing a robe and holding a second one for me.

He drapes it tenderly around my shoulders, his movements are careful.

It’s a stark contrast to our violent coupling.

He touches my cheek, stroking me gently.

“I have to go,” he says, his voice low.

“The council is waiting for me. I don’t want to give them another reason to be irritated with us.”

Reality crashes back.

The council.

My fate.

Elizabeth’s offer.

But that’s not all.

I catch his arm as he turns to leave, my grip firm but no longer brutal.

“Costin. There’s something else I need to tell you.”

His expression remains serious.

“I think something bad is coming.”

He gives me a long look.

“I know. I can feel it too. But we’ll handle the council and the werewolves and anything else that comes for us.”

I give a small shake of my head.

“I saw Conrad.” The words feel heavy.

“Here, in this room. He spoke to me.”

Costin goes still.

“That’s impossible. Leviathan has him imprisoned in an orb. Your brother’s spirit could not escape necromancer magic.”

“Either it was him, or my sanity is completely slipping.” I tighten my grip on his arm.

“He made a joke about being out on work release. You said you could tell something was here. What if Leviathan isn’t containing him? What if he’s using him?”

A shadow crosses his features, and I can feel the stress radiating from him.

“What else did he say?”

“He heard what I did to Leviathan’s goblins.” I can’t look him in the eyes.

My fingers flex, still able to feel the squish.

Costin touches my cheek, turning my eyes to meet his.

“If that’s true, we’re in more danger than I thought.”

As if summoned by our conversation, the shadows in the corner begin to shift.

Costin drops his hand.

The temperature drops, and the air grows thick with a musty scent.

“He’s coming for her, vampire.” Conrad’s voice echoes, though his form remains hidden.

“You can’t stop him. Don’t try. This was always her path.”

Costin moves toward the voice, fangs bared.

He puts his body in front of mine like a shield.

“Show yourself, coward!”

My brother’s presence fades, leaving a lingering chill.

I hear the echo of his mocking laughter.

Costin turns back to me, his expression grim.

“I need to speak with Astrid.”

“Why Astrid?”

“She’s the one who wanted Leviathan to capture Conrad.” He moves to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob.

“She might have an idea as to what the necromancer is planning, or why he’s letting Conrad escape.”

“I thought you chose Leviathan,” I counter, confused as I try to remember how it all happened.

“Lady Astrid made the decision to have the necromancer contain Conrad’s spirit so he wouldn’t keep wreaking havoc. She had me reach out to Leviathan.”

“She chose Leviathan?”

Costin frowns.

“I believe so? I can’t remember who mentioned his name first. He is the natural choice. He’s an elder. He doesn’t handle small jobs, but he would take satisfaction in making sure Conrad’s spirit couldn’t escape. Plus, he seemed to like the idea that I would owe him a favor.”

I didn’t know how to feel about Conrad’s imprisonment at the time.

I still don’t, honestly.

I know it was the right thing to do.

Conrad is dangerous, even as a ghost.

But another part of me can’t shake the guilt.

No matter how messed up he is, he’s still my brother.

“We’re going to figure this out, Tamara,” Costin promises.

“Try to remain calm. Don’t let your emotions take over.”

After he leaves, I pull the robe tighter around my body, shivering despite the heat still lingering from our encounter.

The shadows seem to watch me.

“Why won't you leave me alone, Conrad?” I whisper.

Conrad’s faded voice answers, “Poor little sister. You’re on borrowed time. Costin can’t save you from your true fate. No one can.”