Читать книгу 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, Jennifer Armintrout - Страница 11

John Doe

The day obviously hadn’t been a warm one. The twilight air was cold enough to steal the breath from my lungs.

I’d found my wool coat hanging over the towel rack in the bathroom. It appeared Nathan had spot-cleaned the blood from it. But it didn’t keep me warm as I walked the miles from Nathan’s apartment to the address on the paper. Being dead had some serious disadvantages, like constantly assuming room temperature, no matter what that temperature might be.

While my car still sat at the curb outside the bookshop, the keys were probably still on the ground outside the donor house. There was no way I’d go back there. I preferred walking.

I was familiar with the posh neighborhood. When I’d been new to the city, I’d often drive through the winding streets and marvel at the modern mansions and fairy-tale châteaus. They looked completely out of place in the sparsely wooded area. Tall brick walls and elaborate gates wrapped around the lots. Some had privacy hedges with formidable-looking security cameras that glared at passersby with cold, glassy eyes. From the shelter of my car, I’d daydreamed about the people living in these houses and imagined living in one myself ten years down the road. The fantasies had always featured a handsome yet oddly faceless husband and our adorable, ambiguous children. Only one house had ever been the feature of a horror story in my mind.

That one turned out to be Cyrus’s.

A severe Edwardian manor, it sat far back on a lawn surrounded by a stone wall. The wrought-iron gate at the drive looked as though it hadn’t been opened in centuries. There was no intercom or bell. I gripped the iron bars and gave a push. The hinges didn’t creak, and the gate swung open to admit me.

I’d never felt so exposed in my entire life as I walked toward the house. The driveway cut a paved swath through the lawn, which glowed an eerie green in the moonlight. Any moment, they’d release the dogs, I was sure. And I hated dogs.

Lucky for me, no one seemed to notice my presence, even as I neared the front door. With every footstep my confidence built, until I got close enough to grasp the doorknob.

The door was open.

I froze. I’d believed no one had seen me coming. As I looked over my shoulder at the broad expanse of lawn, I realized how foolish that assumption had been. The full moonlight might as well have been stadium lighting. Not to mention someone was probably watching me through the security camera mounted above the lintel. I swallowed my fear and stepped inside.

“Hello?” I called, my voice sounding like the dumb female protagonist of a slasher flick. “Your door is open.”

“I know.”

Before I could turn to find the source of the voice, strong arms wrapped around me. The echo of the slamming door sounded final, like the felling of a judge’s gavel.

Whoever held me was not a vampire. I don’t know how I knew. I just did. Maybe it was the smell of his blood, or the surge of power I felt at the realization I could easily overcome him and make my escape. But the foyer was completely dark, and I had no idea where I’d find the door. Healing abilities and heightened reflexes were cool and all, but I really wished we came equipped with night vision. I cursed the total unfairness of it.

“The Master doesn’t like that kind of language,” the man holding me admonished.

My captor shoved me with surprising strength. I collided painfully with a set of double doors, which opened under my weight and spilled me into the next room.

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, against my neck. “You tasted so good.”

Suddenly, my memory of the demon who’d carved me up broke through. The claws that had ripped my flesh. The sadistic eyes staring down as I’d cowered, terrified and unable to defend myself. I broke free. “Get away from me!”

Though he looked much different than he had in vampire form, all I could see was his resemblance to John Doe. He folded his arms across his chest as he regarded me. “Oh, you have fire in you. I’ll have so much fun with that.”

From his perversely satisfied tone, I gathered it wasn’t good, clean, car-bingo-type fun he spoke of. “I’m not interested. And speaking of fire, burning down my apartment isn’t exactly the way to a girl’s heart.”

“No,” he agreed with a frown, closing the distance between us. “I find the more effective route is directly through the rib cage.”

“What do you want?” I demanded.

Looping his arms around my waist, he drew me closer. “You came to me, Carrie. It seems you are the one who desires something.”

He nuzzled my neck, rubbing his lips across the scar there. I closed my eyes, too willing to give in to the sensations coursing through my veins. “I want answers.”

“Yet you haven’t asked any questions.” His teeth grazed my skin. “But you don’t really want to talk.”

“Yes, I do,” I insisted, trying to pull away from him.

He held me fast. “Your body tells me something entirely different. You want me. I can smell it on you.”

I ground my teeth. “It’s the blood tie. If you were any other guy, I’d have slapped you by now.”

“If you were any other woman, you’d be dead by now.” Despite his menacing words, he let me go. “I slept quite late this evening and I haven’t had my breakfast. Would you care to join me?”

“Will you answer my questions?”

“That depends on what you ask. But yes, Carrie. I will give you the answers you’ve so bravely sought.” He held out his hand for me, and I bit my lip, considering his offer. Was this a trick? A trap? But he couldn’t have known I was coming. He hadn’t even known who I was when he’d first seen me. There would have been no time to plan anything devious. At worst, I’d spend an uncomfortable meal trying to fight the effects of the blood tie. At best, I’d get a better understanding of what had happened to me. I slipped my hand into his and let him lead me to another room.

The dining room was large and windowless. It was even more ostentatious than the ballroom, if that were possible. Dark wood paneling covered the walls, and the only light came from candles held in ornate silver sconces.

Cyrus pulled out a chair from the long dining table and motioned for me to sit. Then he sat at my right, at the head of the table.

The table was long enough for twenty people, but it was only set for two. Crystal wineglasses took the place of plates. The largest covered platter I had ever seen dominated the center of the table. I wondered who he’d planned on sharing his meal with before I arrived.

“Dahlia.” Cyrus replied to my thought as he gracefully smoothed a napkin over his lap. A dainty crystal bell lay by his left hand, and he rang it. It unnerved me that he could read my private thoughts so easily.

A distinguished-looking black butler entered, followed by two of the guards. The butler reached for the shining silver dome over the platter and hesitated at the sight of me. One of the guards made a noise. The butler glared at them and whisked away the cover.

“Your breakfast, sir,” he said, a look of distaste on his age-lined features.

The nude body of a young woman lay on the platter. She was obviously dead. Her blank eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling, one hand propped limply on her breast. Her other arm stretched high above her head, mimicking the curve of the platter. Someone had thought to garnish her with rose petals. The woman was displayed beautifully before us like a Renaissance goddess. I was horrified by my reaction. This woman was dead, her remains exploited for aesthetic purposes.

To please the man sitting beside me.

The terror I should have felt from his presence fought to the surface, then was quickly drowned once again by the blood tie. Despite all the harm he’d already done to me, it seemed absurd that he would ever hurt me again. I caught myself yearning to touch him, desperate for the security of a physical connection, and I squashed the feeling down.

He’s a monster. A murderer. You’re smarter than this.

“Thank you, Clarence, that will be all,” Cyrus said with a polite nod.

The butler and guards departed. Cyrus stood and reached for my glass. He lifted the dead girl’s arm and flicked his razor-sharp fingernails across her wrist. Dark red blood poured from the wound. She hadn’t been deceased for long.

The calm, matter-of-fact manner in which he handled the corpse made it seem perfectly normal to be dining off a dead body. I stopped reminding myself to be horrified—what good would it do me?—and concentrated on the questions I wanted answers to.

He filled his glass next and lifted it to his nose, savoring the scent. I ignored my glass, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Now, what were we talking about?” he asked after he sat again.

“You mentioned Dahlia. Were you reading my mind?”

He drank deeply from his glass, then dabbed his lips with his napkin. “Of course. You wondered who I had planned on dining with since the table was set for two. Dahlia sometimes likes to consume human blood, and I indulge her.”

“Is she a vampire?” It was a silly question. I knew I would have recognized his blood in the taste of hers.

As I expected, he shook his head. “No. Dahlia is very sweet, one of my favorite pets, actually. But I’d never make her one of us. She’s not…special? I suppose that is the word for it.”

“And I was special?” I felt a surprising sympathy for the girl. She thought I’d taken her place when there had actually been nothing to take. But that’s not what concerned me most. “Can you read my mind all the time?”

“If I want to.” He smiled. “And to answer your first question, yes, you’re special.”

“But I was an accident,” I said as I fixed him with a piercing stare. “I remember that night, or at least, most of it. You never fed me your blood. It got into me when I stabbed you, but you didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Sighing heavily, he leaned back in his chair. He studied me for a long moment before speaking again. “You have my blood, Carrie. Even if I didn’t intend to share it with you, it still flows through your veins. It makes you precious to me.”

I glared at him. “You attacked me and left me for dead. I wasn’t so precious to you then.”

He raised his hand to stop me. “Please, excuse me. These damned eyes, they dry out so quickly.”

He lifted a small knife and plunged it into his borrowed eye. The organ fell to the table with a soft, squishy sound and flattened. A gruesome image of the dead morgue attendant flashed through my mind.

Cyrus leaned over the face of the dead girl and carved out one of her eyes. When he’d inserted his replacement, he freed the second eye from the corpse and dropped it into his glass. It sank to the bottom like an olive in a martini.

“I had two perfectly good eyes before I returned to this city. Fresh ones are hard to come by, and they wear out before you’ve gotten much use from them.”

My physician’s curiosity took over then, distracting me from our earlier line of conversation. “How does it work?”

“I don’t know.” He blinked a few times, as though he’d just put in new contact lenses. A thin line of blood ran like a tear down his cheek. “I’m assuming it has something to do with the regenerative humors in human blood.”

“There’s no such thing as humors. Does it work with other body parts? Limbs?” I scooted forward in my chair. “What about teeth?”

“How do I know? Carrie, I understand your thirst for knowledge, but there are questions even the blasted Sanguinarius can’t answer.” He sipped from his glass. The eye inside rolled around to stare at me.

I was going to barf.

Cyrus either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “I’ll have the servants prepare your room, but I fear it won’t be ready before dawn. You can stay with me today. I’m sure we can find some engaging activity to fill the boring daylight hours.”

“Whoa, whoa.” I waved my hands in front of me as though I were signaling a plane. “I’m not staying.”

Not that I wasn’t tempted. The blood tie was an incredible aphrodisiac, despite the fact I’d just watched him pick over a dead body as if it were a rotisserie chicken. But I had only come here in need of information, not an unfathomably dirty one-night stand.

Cyrus’s expression darkened. “I thought you said your apartment burned down. Surely you need a place to stay.”

“I have other options. Did you do it so I’d have no place else to go?”

“I didn’t do it at all. If Dahlia harmed your property, then I’m sorry. The drama of fire seems to hold some fascination for her. I can’t undo what she’s done. All I can offer you is a place to stay. And a few amusements.” He reached across the table to stroke my hand.

I rolled my eyes. “That’s a lovely sentiment, but there’s this organization who’ll want to kill me if I stay here with you.”

“The Movement?” His rich laughter filled the dining room. “They’d like to cage us all and let us die.”

“You don’t think much of them,” I said.

“No. I don’t. I’ve longed for a companion for years, but because of the restrictions in place by the damned Movement, I have been unable to retain any of the fledglings I’ve sired.”

So he didn’t know about his pet and her penchant for offing the competition. I couldn’t believe he would be so dense, but if he was really lonely, perhaps he purposely overlooked her transgressions. Maybe a murderous companion was better than none at all.

Cyrus stood and moved behind me, placing his long fingers on my shoulders. “Fate has put us in a unique situation. Why not come to an arrangement that will be beneficial for both of us? You become the companion I’ve been seeking, and I’ll teach you to use the full extent of your power, power the Movement would deny you.”

“What kind of power?”

He smiled like a used-car salesman. “The power to rule, of course. The power over life and death and the strength to wield it to your advantage.”

A pang of longing washed over me. I’d loved the seemingly God-like powers I’d believed I’d held as a doctor. But that illusion had been ripped apart the night Cyrus had destroyed my perceptions of death and accidentally set me apart from both.

“I thought I had that before. I ended up bleeding to death in the morgue,” I said, shaking my head. “Why should I believe you? I don’t know you that well. You might just kill me again.”

“I might,” he said finally. “I’m not generally regarded as someone to be trusted.”

I looked over the rapidly purpling body on the table. “No kidding?”

He knelt at my side. “Search your heart, Carrie. I have faith you’ll make the right choice.”

Some choice. I could live only if I pledged my allegiance to the Movement, or I could live to be Cyrus’s little wifey. Either way, I was a slave. A prisoner. A prostitute.

“I’ve made my decision. Us meeting, that was an accident. I’m not fated to be your companion, or whatever the heck you’re looking for.”

“Tell me, Doctor, do you follow many of your patients to the morgue?” he asked with a knowing smile. “You followed me. You wanted me.”

“You were dead. That’s not my bag. Sorry.”

He reached out his hands again, but I dodged them.

“If that’s what you believe, I can’t change your mind,” he said, gesturing to the door.

I stood and headed for it, but Cyrus called after me.

“Dahlia is useful. She’s only alive because she amuses me. Not because I love her. And she doesn’t love me.” His voice was quiet and sad.

“I’m sorry if you’re unhappy.” And I was. I could feel his desperation, his hurt, his anger. But I could also feel the cool edge of manipulation. He was confident I would cave in.

He continued, and his sorrow sounded genuine. “I only want to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection, Cyrus. I need time to think.” I walked away. “If I go through that door, will the guards stop me?”

Cyrus shook his head. “Will you return?”

I thought of Nathan and his undying loyalty to the Movement. Would I ever become so indoctrinated to their rhetoric? Was I even susceptible to such brainwashing? “I don’t know. Maybe.”

His sorrow instantly changed to anger. “I’m your sire, Carrie. You belong to me.”

So this was the true nature of his game. He would coerce me into staying.

“I don’t belong to anyone.” The words gave me courage as I spoke them. “I don’t belong to my job, I don’t belong to a man, I don’t belong to the Movement, and I sure as hell don’t belong to you. I have five days left to make a decision. If I choose to return to you, I will. But I’m not stupid, Cyrus. You didn’t make me on purpose. You didn’t make me out of love. You meant to kill me in the morgue. I was an accident. And I don’t owe you anything.”

I walked out the door and didn’t look back.