Page 27 of The Vampire’s Mercy (Blood Melody #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

SILVANUS

“Paris?” I said, my brain throbbing from my arrival in this arid clearing in a forest. “What are we doing here?”

His mouth moved like he was speaking and he looked angry, but I didn’t hear him.

Cursed dreams.

I eyed his outfit, the silver like a second layer of skin wrapped around his slender body. Sheer, tantalizing, so thin that one forceful tug would tear it from his body.

I want to see…

I want to see all of him…

His body fell apart, collapsing to white rose petals, carried off by the wind.

How odd.

But his honeyed scent lingered, his song a small echo in my mind. I needed more of it because the melody opened windows and doors, letting things spill into the empty room of my mind.

At least I thought so. What other explanation was there? How else did this mysterious Lucius worm his way into my memories, as well as the rest of the things I’d seen?

It had to be the song.

I had to hear more of it.

Careful now. This could be the beginning of a road leading toward great sorrow.

Then so be it.

So. Be. It.

At sunset, my entire body responded with its natural awakening. The time for sleep was now over.

I heard the elf’s voice. Was he reading out loud?

The bed’s mechanism whirred, rising out of the floor to rejoin the rest of my chambers, placing me in a surprising scene: Paris and Medusa on his bed, the elf holding a book, my snake spread merrily across the sheets.

His legs were tucked under her, her head poised above the tome as if he’d just been reading to her.

A warm sensation pooled in my belly—one I didn’t want to feel when it came to this elf.

Murderer.

Vile filth.

But the warmth began to spread, my lips threatening to stretch into a smile.

“That’s impressive,” Paris said, nodding at me. “What’s it like down there?” He smiled, though it didn’t reach his lovely eyes.

“Dark,” I answered, shaking off the ridiculous happy sensation.

Medusa hissed at me in welcome.

I swung my legs off the bed. “Good evening, both of you.”

Medusa hissed her hello.

“Evening, Majesty,” the elf returned, closing the book.

I’d told Medusa about our new guest, expecting indifference. “What is this?” I pointed between them.

“We’re just chilling, enjoying a story about a werewolf prince and a human princess,” Paris answered.

“Nice edition you got here.” He held up the collection of short fantasy stories I’d found in a destroyed library during the war.

It’d withstood vicious days, its condition perfect despite the fire and bloodshed.

Medusa used her agreeing hiss.

Interesting. Utterly bizarre to see them together, as if they were old friends.

“I see,” I said.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.

The tone of his voice was brash yet soft. I enjoyed its resonance as much as I enjoyed his scent and his face.

Remember who he is…

Medusa slithered off the bed, making her way toward me.

“Do you care?” I countered.

He shrugged. “Nope.”

Admirable honesty making my lips twitch. “And what about you?”

He chortled. “I think I’ve slept too much.” Putting the book down, he stretched his limbs above his head.

“Get up so I can inspect you,” I commanded, using the power of his connection to me to force him to his feet. It pulsed from me to him, a lick of electricity passing across my skin as it touched him.

He grumbled, but got off the bed and stood up straight, his arms by his sides. “Does this please you, Majesty?”

“Such sarcasm,” I said.

He rolled his eyes.

Goodness, the purple suited him so spectacularly. Such fine tailoring for a fine body, the lace shirt particularly exquisite, giving glimpses of his flesh beneath. Flesh I wanted to touch, wondering if it tasted like honey.

My cock stiffened, my eyes feasting on his shining aura.

Remember who he is…

Medusa reached me, hissing another greeting.

I bent to stroke her head, mindful of the firmness between my legs.

“It’s surprisingly comfy,” the elf said. “Considering.” He tugged at the lapels of the jacket.

Medusa headed for the hole beside her rock, leaving us alone.

“Excellent,” I said, turning my back on the elf.

To look at him stoked my lust. It confused my hatred for him, an emotion I should hold onto. Even if he might be the key to restoring my memories, he’d still killed Layla.

Her memory deserved better than this.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” he asked.

I quivered, clenching my fists. “Bathing.”

“What?”

“I’m taking a bath.”

“Oh. I don’t have to join you, right?”

Yes. Join me. Be naked. Spread yourself against— “No. Wait here.”

I heard him sit back down. “I need to freshen up a bit. Maybe change after sleeping in these clothes. Feeling a bit icky.”

Take it off now, show me— “The wardrobe will be filled with an outfit for every day of the week, as well as sleeping clothes.” I turned to face him, finding his eyes filled with blue fire. “Did I tell you to sit?” I snapped my fingers, the same pulse forcing him back to his feet.

Much better. Show him your dominance.

Standing again, his face twisted into venomous disgust. “Dammit!”

He gritted his teeth, folding his hands behind his back—an antidote to the unsettling attraction I had for him.

Never forget who he is.

“At ease,” I said.

The elf relaxed. “Thank Aidan.” He rubbed at his chest. “Your orders feel like heartburn.”

I snarled at the sound of his deity’s name. “Are you a pious man, Paris?”

“Yeah.” He rolled his shoulders. “Why?”

“No reason.” The cult of Aidan poisoned the minds of executioners, their lives infected by blind faith in someone they’d never seen.

How much blood had been spilled in His name?

“Aidan is everything,” he said with an angry bite. “You’re an invader.”

I was in no mood for religious prattle. “Watch your tongue. I can easily have it removed.”

He folded his arms. “Whatever.”

“Petulant, aren’t you?”

“Special treat just for you.” He smirked.

The amethyst at his throat sparkled, a beacon of temptation. “I saw you in a dream.”

“Same.”

“Pardon?”

“I saw you in a clearing.” He explained the dream from his point of view, and then went on to tell me about a strange tower in a rainstorm. At the end of his story, he lit a mistrock cig, one arm wrapped around his waist as he held the smoking stick close to his face.

I told him what I’d seen.

“Do you have any idea what this means?” I wondered, the way he smoked as enticing as the rest of him. “What the white roses are?”

“Not a clue. You?” He blew the harmless smoke at the ceiling. “It feels bad, though. Like something unsettling is coming, you know?”

I nodded, a shiver passing over my skin.

“Let’s hope we’re wrong,” he added.

“Agreed.”

The fact he’d been called precious one by this mysterious voice only reaffirmed my decision to keep him here.

He was a key, an answer to this potential…

Goodness, what if this was the beginning of something darker?

The rising of some deadly threat? It could be.

Anything was possible. After all, wasn’t peace always fragile?

Wasn’t there always something waiting in the wings to destroy it?

Like him…

“What are you?” I asked.

He frowned. “Nothing special.”

“Your singing seems to be restoring pieces of my memory,” I said.

“Weird.” He scratched his left cheek. “I’ve got a version of a mer song in me. Must be something to do with that. But that’s still not an answer.”

I ran my tongue over my lips. “We’ll have to keep testing it to be sure.”

He took a deep drag of the cig, blowing out a long stream of white, vanilla smoke. “What if I don’t want to? I think it’s better if you don’t remember anything.”

Frustration swelled, his arrogance an attack on my resolve. “Don’t you want answers?”

He shrugged petulantly, stubbing out his cig in an ashtray. “Guess so. I’ll think about it.”

Interesting response for a thrall. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.”

I approached him, his cold stare disarming, enchanting beyond measure, even when bristling with loathing. “You’re mine now, elf. You’ll do what I want.”

He swallowed, backing away from me, his bravado crumbling. “I—”

Rushing forward, I grabbed him by the throat, cutting off his reply. Gently, not crushing. Enough to show him my authority, enough to feel the throbbing of his pulse against my skin. “It changes everything.”

“Get your hands off me.” He fixed me with those incredible eyes, his voice an aggressive rasp.

I smiled, excitement tickling my senses. “Be careful. I can end this at any moment. Painfully.”

He licked his glossy lips, intensifying his natural delectableness. “Then do it. I’d rather be dead than here with you.”

I laughed, releasing his throat. “I don’t believe you.”

The elf removed his jacket, tossing it onto the bed. “You’re right. I’d rather take you out before I snuff it.”

“Such honesty. But you’ll never land a blow on me. You can’t, remember? I own you now.”

He snarled. “Fuck you.”

I laughed. “Such a charming mouth.”

He summoned his stakeblade, the weapon immediately vanishing. “One day, you smug shit. One day.” He called it to his hand again, only for it to vanish.

“What about the other weapon?” I asked.

It didn’t appear and he didn’t say anything.

His silence irritated me. “Maybe I should make you a full vampire. Wouldn’t that be more of a punishment? Forever condemned in the eyes of Aidan, becoming the thing you hate the most.”

He paled, his eyes widening. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Why not?”

I could see I was getting to him by the change in his breathing. Rapid, furious. “Fuck you.”

Using our connection, I let myself feel his fury, as well as his sadness.

My goodness, the sadness landed a wicked bite, catching me off guard. It was searing, its teeth dipped in poison. I’d seen the sadness in his eyes, but feeling it hit differently. I wanted to know more about it, where it’d come from. Who did he lose? This was grief, pure soul-wrenching grief.

I carry grief…

There is hidden grief inside me…

Paris rushed me, summoning that strange crystal blade. “I’ll fucking—” He roared, clutching his head as the weapon vanished in a burst of silver smoke. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

The dagger always seemed to do that around me.

Interesting.

I staggered back, my connection to his emotions still open, his grief an infection swimming in my veins. “You can’t hurt me. You can’t hurt anyone.” I closed our connection, freeing myself from his toxic sorrow.

Curse me for my curiosity.

Curse me for behaving this way.

The elf went to sit on the bed.

I forced him to stand.

“Why did you want me to eat with the others?” he asked, face tight with anger.

“Because you have to eat. You’re a mortal.”

He snorted. “Thanks for the reminder.” He cleared his throat. “It pissed them off.”

“Is that so?” I clenched my jaw, remembering the voices from this morning.

His lips spread into a cocky smirk. “Yeah. Not a bunch of happy bunnies.” The filth sniffed, smugness spreading over his aesthetics. “They hate you.”

“Be quiet.”

His mouth clamped shut, but he rolled his eyes. He folded his arms, sighing through his nose.

“I’m taking a bath.”

He let out a grumpy grunt, his nostrils flaring.

With Layla’s final moments bursting into my mind, I grabbed him again, flinging him onto my bed.

He bounced, his mouth opening to release a yelp.

Consumed with rage, I leaped onto him, pinning him to the mattress by the throat.

“You love choking me, huh?” he rasped around my grip.

I lowered my face to his.

So close…

“I’ve heard enough from your mouth,” I retorted with soft malice.

He writhed beneath me, his leg brushing my swollen cock. Despite my anger, it stayed hard.

“Fuck you. Fuck all of you.” He smirked again, throwing fuel on my inner fires. “Think of your bestie as the preview of what’s to come.”

He spat in my face, saliva oozing over my lips.

Tastes like honey…

With a roar, I shoved off him, speeding to the foot of the bed. I was beyond furious, disgusted by my hardness, by his corrupting presence.

I licked his spit off me, honey caressing my tastebuds.

Disgusting…

Incredible.

Paris sat up, cheeks flushed with anger. “I—”

I commanded him to lay down, be still, and be quiet. His head hit the mattress, his glossy lips closing, body like stone.

“Good, pet.” I walked around the bed, leaning on the mattress to loom over him.

He looks so beautiful…

His eyes darted around the room, fear etching across his face.

Excellent. I wanted him afraid.

“I think some quiet time will clear away some of your filth,” I said. “Self-reflection down in the darkness will be good for you.”

Snapping a finger, the bed mechanism attuned to my will, the ground beneath it opened before it descended into the pit, the darkness swallowing the shining elf.

As the grassy floor drew back over the pit like a veil, a twinge of guilt attacked me. Small, but there like an irritating itch, along with the last of him.

I need more of you, Paris Raine…

I had nothing to be guilty over. He did. He was the murderer, a deadly relic of the past.

“I’m not your enemy,” I tried, hoping he heard me.

To him, I always would be an object of hate. He was a man tangled in his religion, scarred by the war. As was I, my own trauma a constant shadow.

What weight did he carry? Who had he lost?

Why do you care?

I growled, striding into the bathroom.

Precisely. Why did I care? Paris was a tool, nothing more. The sooner I got what I wanted from him, I’d be free.

Will you kill him?

“Elio?” I reached out to the elf thrall.

“Yes, my king?” he answered in my head.

“Come to me. I need comfort.”

Within ten minutes, we were naked in the bath, him bent over the side, me thrusting my frustrations into him.

Wishing it was Paris on the end of my cock.