Page 32 of The Vampire’s Mercy (Blood Melody #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

SILVANUS

Icarried Paris back to my chambers, fury boiling my blood.

A curse? What wretched creature cursed us?

The mage had no answer. All he could say was the curse had been cast yesterday, and he’d endeavor to help break it. As for everything else, we’d have to wait and see if the elf’s song revealed more.

I laid Paris on my bed, baring my fangs. He blinked up at me, his face pale, his lips trembling.

“Wrist is killing me,” he whispered.

“My blood will help.”

“No… No… I…”

I opened a vein in my wrist, holding it over his mouth. Blood dripped onto his lips, filling his mouth. He groaned, resisting for a moment.

“Drink.”

His tongue lapped at his lips, his throat bobbing.

“Yes. Drink.” My bloodthirst stirred, craving a taste of the honeyed wonder coursing through his veins.

The elf’s eyes flooded scarlet for a moment as he drank, swiftly returning to the alluring cornflower blue.

He killed Layla…

His wrist healed with an audible pop, a shuddering sigh of relief escaping his mouth, caressing my face like a spring breeze. The aftereffects of the magic came off him as curls of steam, the coral hues of his skin returning.

I drew back. “How are you?”

“Sweetcream,” he breathed. “I’m sweetcream.”

“Does that mean you’re alright?”

“Yeah.” He stayed on his back, hand sliding down to his crotch. “Yeah.”

Curse it. I should leave.

He lunged for me, grabbing my arm. “Fuck me. Please just fuck me.” His eyes implored me, his hand stroking his cock through the purple pants.

Gladly. “It’s my blood doing this to you.”

He bit his bottom lip in an enticing manner to heat my lust.

I pulled free. “Fight it, Paris. Fight it.”

He threw himself on his back, writhing on the bed. Face blooming crimson, groaning. “I can’t…I need…I need you inside me.” With a deft hand, he opened his pants, sliding that same hand into his underwear.

Digging for treasure.

“Fuck me, Silvanus. Please fuck me.”

Desire sparked from him to me, his want an explosion of heat down our bond, my feet moving me a few steps closer to the bed.

I could have him. I could give him what he wanted, like I had so many other thralls. Make him scream my name, feel his skin on mine. Feed from him, exchange kisses and blood and pleasure.

But this was the blood, and only the blood. The other thralls wanted me beyond the bond of blood. A mutual desire, not a consequence of healing or feeding. Though I had the power to seduce anyone, I never used it to take what I wanted.

Paris and I despised each other. There would be no mutual anything other than discovering the truth behind these dreams and visions.

And this wretched curse.

I turned my back, resisting him, focusing my energies on other things.

“Silvanus…” From behind me I heard moaning, followed by the sound of slapping flesh.

Who would curse us? Why would they curse us?

“Turn around and tear my clothes off,” Paris whined, the sounds of his self-pleasure a lick on the back of my neck.

I tensed under the grip of temptation.

“Shove your regal dick into any hole you like!” he cried. “Use all of me. Do whatever you want. Please. Please. Oh, fuck. I’m… I’m…”

I shot out onto the balcony, slamming the doors behind me just as he screamed out his orgasm, my own cock on the verge of explosion.

Curse all of this.

A scanhawk flew past, scanning the calm ocean water. The tide was high, swallowing the causeway. It was a quiet night, moonlight glistening on the water, a scattering of stars in the inky black blanket of sky.

I watch an airplane’s lights flashing in the distance, locking onto the mundane. Anything to not focus on his panting.

“By Aidan,” Paris’s voice crawled from the bedroom.

I leaned on the balustrade, not ready to return to his presence. Let him recover and clean himself up first.

“By Aidan,” he repeated, his voice cracked.

Sobbing followed, a horrible whimpering I couldn’t bear. But I stayed on the balcony, waiting out the sounds until they were replaced by the song of sleep.

Paris slept soundly, curled into a ball on my bed. He’d buttoned his pants back up, but the air smelled of his cum and his blood.

Curse it.

I left him to sleep, heading out for a walk. Being out on the balcony wasn’t enough to clear my head. I needed movement to distract myself from the endless tumble of questions and thinking assaulting my brain.

Reaching the empty ballroom, I slumped in my throne, a different scent on the air here. Still sexual, filled with the vitality of vampire lust and mortal wants. Throughout the palace, all sorts of activities were transpiring.

“Enjoy everything,” I mumbled.

A gathering of nobles at court always ended in sex.

Goodness, how my fellow vampires and thralls had looked at me with such disappointment tonight. A clear rejection of my decisions without the nerve to voice them to my face.

But they didn’t get to question me. If I wanted an executioner as a thrall, then so be it. If they disagreed, they could happily join the others in the dungeon cells.

I still needed to question those wretched ones. What were their plans? To kidnap me? And did they know anything about the curse?

I crossed my legs, sitting for two hours before sensing a vampire approaching, his sandalwood scent cutting through the room.

A shirtless Vaughn arrived, streaks of blood on his skin. “Hello again, Your Majesty.”

“What are you doing here?”

He joined me on the platform, taking the seat to my right. “Walking off vigorous sex. Sarah’s a real goer.”

“Is she?”

“And tastes like pineapple.”

“I’m not in the mood, Vaughn,” I warned, before he regaled me with his sexual escapades.

“Got it.” He twisted in his chair to face me. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Along with Layla, Vaughn was a dear friend.

He might be a tad unruly and smug at times, but I knew he had my back in all things.

Never leaving my side, never questioning, swearing his undying allegiance again and again.

He’d even called me about Paris before I’d arrived at Majestic Moon to tell me he’d tried making a move on him.

He apologized, then told me to go for it.

What a shame he and Layla never got along.

“A lot,” I answered.

Vaughn’s fierce presence in the war alleviated a lot of the pressures on me, as did his support when we’d pitched the concept of the new world to the Global Council.

Him and Layla argued beside me night after night, making the mortals see reason, all while struggling with their own traumas.

Their own broken memories I inflicted upon them.

No vampire knew why we were here.

No vampire remembered where we’d come from.

I turned to meet his red gaze. “This curse revelation only makes it worse.”

He nodded slowly. “I have my people investigating it already.” He took my hand, giving it a squeeze. “I promise we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

I squeezed him back. “Thank you.”

“Always, friend. Always.” He took his hand back before slouching in the chair. “Have you interrogated the vampires downstairs yet?”

“No. I’m letting them stew for a while.”

“Bastards. They should all be killed.”

There were many factions of vampires across the world wanting to usurp me. Kick me from power, put someone else in place to rule while I stayed hidden to keep them alive.

All for a bloodier future.

There were others working in the shadows too, running illegal feedings. Behaving nefariously, covering up deaths, using violence and disturbing methods to extract blood from mortals.

Vaughn and his team of spies were searching the world for such activity, and were so far coming up empty. But when they were found, the punishment would be severe.

Maybe this was all my fault for being so distracted. Since the end of the war, my focus shifted to finding a solution to my broken mind, pulling me away from a lot of issues, making my kin feel as lost as me.

Vaughn let out a contented sigh. “Nice and quiet in here.”

“Yes.” I told him about Lucius to see if any spark of recognition came to him.

“Your brother? Yes, he was your brother. It’s coming back to me. The previous king. He’s…he’s dead. I’m so sorry.”

I didn’t respond, my grief a punch against my soul—a soul I’m sure Paris didn’t think I possessed.

My friend tapped the side of his head. “Is this because of the elf’s mojo?”

“Yes.”

“Then he really is one useful bastard.”

Useful and beautiful…

“How’s Paris holding up?” Vaughn asked.

“He’s sweetcream.” I shocked myself. “Fine, I mean.”

Vaughn tittered. “His words are slipping into your mouth.”

I wish other things would. “Nothing more than a mistake.”

He nodded, dropping the subject.

“I’m doing nothing but drifting through my life,” I complained, slouching in my throne.

“But the elf can fix that, yes?”

“Possibly.”

He scratched his chin. “What if he tried his singing on me, too?”

I sat up, experiencing a stranger flicker of envy. “We could try it.”

“This curse might be blocking his magic. Would you call it magic?”

You won’t be touching Paris. “I’m not sure.”

Why would I care if he touched the elf or not?

Vaughn took my hand again. “You’re not a drifter, you’re stuck. And I’m here to help you get unstuck.”

He always made me smile. “Thank you.”

“It’s all so bloody confusing, though.”

“It is.”

“You’re not alone, Silvanus.”

I regarded him, his eyes always so gentle and kind for me. “What do you think of me making him a thrall?”

Without a beat, he said, “I think it was a great move. Punish the turd, but also keep him close for us to use his gifts. I like it.”

I nodded, smiling.

“Everyone else can shove it,” he added. “Their opinions don’t matter. Only yours do. Shame on them for thinking otherwise. Say the word and I’ll have them reprimanded.”

Vaughn knew how to whip my people into shape better than me, and had a penchant for torture.

“That won’t be necessary,” I answered.

Torture had to be a last resort.

“The offer’s there,” he answered, sounding disappointed.

Deep down, did he also find me weak?

I pondered my next move. I didn’t want to return to my chambers yet, not with Paris’s sexual energy still in the air. But I couldn’t stay here. I had to be proactive. This might be the time to finally speak with the prisoners downstairs.

“And remember, mortals die easily,” Vaughn added. “If Paris’s usefulness expires, pitch him off your balcony.”

A flicker of anger, twinned with envy, came to me. “Yes…” I bit out, his response amusing yet irritating.

The curse made me feel this way, tainting the thrall bond. Forcing me to say words like sweetcream, and making me feel conflicted over the elf when I should only harbor hate.

Vaughn got to his feet. “I’ve already taken up too much of your time. I’ll leave you be. But let me suggest this, if you’ll let me?”

I uncrossed my legs, resting my hands on my thighs. “Go on.”

“Rub it harder in their faces by letting him be more relaxed.”

Interesting. “What do you mean?”

“Drop the uniform,” he said. “Let him appear by your side in jeans and T-shirt.”

I don’t know why I found that so delightful, but I did. “I think you’re on to something there.”

He winked. “I know, I’m a genius.” My friend left the ballroom with a bow.

A few minutes later, with a smile stretching my lips, I headed to the dungeons.