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 16

A Sleepless Day, An Uncomfortable Night

Although there were still hours before sunrise, fatigue forced me into the huge bed. I left the lamp on at the bedside table, as I found it slightly unsettling to be alone in the enormous room.

You don’t have to be alone. The thought couldn’t have been mine. I sat up, peering into the dark corners of the room to see if Cyrus had returned. But I was the only one present, and as much as I hated to admit it, curling up next to Cyrus was an appealing prospect compared to spending the night by myself in this museum of a bedroom.

It had to be the blood tie. Cyrus was a monster who preyed upon the weak and helpless. The attraction between us wouldn’t have been so strong if he were anyone but my sire.

But even I couldn’t believe that. I’d felt the excitement of sinking my fangs into a warm, human neck. I’d known the hot, heady feeling of blood rushing into my mouth from a tapped vein. That kind of gluttonous pleasure could be addictive. I’d done it once, I wanted to do it again, and Cyrus offered the very thing I craved.

I was attracted to Cyrus because my darker nature wanted me to give in and become like him. A predator, with no remorse or humanity to interfere with my base desires.

A horrendous scream tore through the still night. I ran to my window in time to see a half-naked girl racing across the lawn toward the dark shape of the hedge maze. Four of the Fangs followed her.

Her pale body cut a glowing streak through the darkness and I recognized her at once. Cami.

“Don’t look back,” I whispered, willing with all my might that she make it to the maze. She could hide there, maybe even until the safety of daylight.

But I knew my worry was in vain. I’d seen her kind many times in the E.R., souls so abused they were afraid to find help for their situation. Having escaped death, Cami would just slink back to the house, and death would find her again.

The vampires gained more ground. She looked over her shoulder, screaming again at the sight of her pursuers. The glass of my window muffled the sound and I was glad for it. I wouldn’t have wanted to hear the full might of her mortal terror.

Looking back proved to be a fatal mistake. Her feet tangled beneath her and she sank to the ground. All four vampires fell on her. She didn’t scream this time.

It took them only a moment to finish her. As they dispersed, I caught a glimpse of the body, or what was left of it. They’d ripped her apart and fed until not even her organs remained inside her mangled corpse. She looked like a rag doll whose stuffing had been ripped out.

I turned away from the window, my body shaking. My heart raced and my lungs burned with the exertion of my heavy breathing. But my reaction came not from horror. Not from disgust at what I’d seen. I’d liked it.

I’d wanted to be with those vampires. I’d wanted to feel her flesh tear beneath my claws, to rip skin and sinews with my teeth.

Now I, Dr. Carrie Ames, who took the Hippocratic oath before a crowded auditorium, vowing to never cause harm, never aid death, wanted to kill.

Sick to my stomach, I forced myself not to look at the grisly scene as I reached to pull the curtains closed.

I went back to bed, but sleep eluded me. Primal and raw, my hunger tormented me. The knowledge I could simply walk down the hall and pick out a tender, willing human to feed from made it ten times worse. Shuddering and sweating, I resolved to stay where I was. I could ask for blood—in a cup—after sunset.

But that seemed so very far away.

Through the day, as I lay awake, I heard the secret door to the sitting room open several times. I’d jolt upright and listen to footsteps cross the floor. They always retreated before they reached my door.

Exhausted, I fell asleep just before sunset. I’d only slept an hour when the footsteps returned.

Thinking to catch Cyrus creeping around my parlor, I pulled on my robe and headed for the bedroom door. The house was spooky enough without him lurking around. I was surprised to find that it wasn’t Cyrus who was making all that noise, but the butler. He went about his business, opening the drapes and building up the fire. I didn’t think he’d seen me enter until he spoke.

“Don’t get any bright ideas or I’ll push your demon ass into this fireplace so fast you’ll be in hell before you know what happened.”

I approached him slowly, not doubting he meant what he said. “I’m not that kind of vampire.”

If you say it enough, maybe you’ll believe it.

“Sure. I suppose you’re a good guy, right? We get a lot of those around here, so you’ll have to excuse me for not trusting you.” He pulled back the collar of his tuxedo jacket and revealed a series of bumpy, keloid scars on his throat. “Bite me once, shame on you. Bite me twice, shame on me.”

I sat in one of the stiff wing chairs and rubbed my eyes. “That’s a good personal motto. Another good one would be ‘don’t work for vampires.’”

He straightened and turned to face me. His dark eyes glittered in the firelight, and I thought it might be humor I saw in them. “For future reference, most ‘people’ don’t talk to the help. Just imagine that I’m invisible.”

“Sorry. I’m new here.”

The secret passageway opened, and Cyrus entered without knocking. I stood as though he were royalty. I’m not sure why.

He wore a silk dressing gown tied loosely enough to make me acutely uncomfortable. His torso was hard and well-defined. A perfect body, with the exception of the thick scar that ran from his collarbone to his stomach.

An injury like that would have been deadly six hundred years ago, so he must have been human at the time to keep a scar. A vampire would have healed. I touched the scar on my neck. Cyrus must have incurred the injury before he’d completely changed into a vampire.

He yawned and stretched like someone who’d had the luxury of too much sleep, and his unbound hair brushed the floor with the motion. “Rested and ready for the night?”

I shook my head. “Someone was creeping around my room all day.”

“Clarence, I hope you apologized for waking Carrie,” Cyrus admonished the butler.

“I don’t think it was Clarence who woke me.”

Like some kind of reverse genie, Clarence disappeared at the mention of his name. I heard the parlor door click softly shut.

“I did come in to check on you.” Cyrus slipped behind me and stole my chair, pulling me into his lap as he did so. I yelped in surprise as I felt his ice-cold skin through my robe and tried to rearrange the fabric over my bare legs. Sprawled as I was over him, it was hard to maintain a ladylike appearance. He took advantage of the position and slipped his hand between the slightly parted fabric. “I felt your distress at the scene in the garden. And your excitement.”

I swallowed as his fingers teased my inner thigh. “You saw that?”

“It was spectacular, wasn’t it?” He inched his fingers up the hem of my T-shirt. “They’re such vulgar creatures, but I love the way they feed, the pack mentality of it.”

“Yeah, it’s a regular nature special.” I pushed his hand away and stood, whirling around to face him. “Did you tell them to do that? So I could see?”

Standing had been the wrong move. My wriggling had dislodged the tie of his robe completely, and he made no move to cover himself. I tried to look anywhere but where carnal curiosity forced me to. Not that I wanted to look at his immensely pleased face, either. He seemed delighted by my embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?”

“You forget, I’m a doctor. Or was,” I added with a surprising twinge of guilt. “I’ve seen plenty of naked bodies before. They all sort of look the same after a while.”

“Really?” He stood, far too close to me.

“Did you or did you not tell them to kill Cami?” His intimidation wasn’t going to work. At least, I hoped it wouldn’t.

“You’re really no fun, do you know that?” he said. “No, I didn’t arrange that little spectacle. I rather discourage the notion of feeding outside. As large as the grounds are, her screams probably carried to the neighbors. I find police investigations tedious at best, though I do harbor a fondness for handcuffs.”

I rolled my eyes. “There’s a cliché if I ever heard one.”

“I couldn’t resist.” Cyrus circled me slowly, tapping his lips with his forefinger. “Something is off about you. I can feel it.”

“I am a bit hungry,” I admitted. “But I’m not interested in human sacrifice. Can you get any of your pets to donate blood?”

He stopped behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders. Before I could stop him, he tugged my robe backward. The tie came loose and I stood before him in only the dark blue T-shirt I’d worn to bed, the one Nathan had loaned me.

Leaning close to my neck, Cyrus sniffed at the collar. “That’s what the problem is.”

He spun me, grasping my upper arms so hard I knew I’d have bruises that would heal in a moment. “Go take this thing off and deliver it to Clarence to be destroyed, along with any other reminder of him you might have thought to bring along.”

Though I didn’t mean to, I flinched from the pain in my arms. “What happened to not pressing your will?”

With a snarl of anger, he pushed me. I landed hard on one of the delicately embroidered chairs, the impact of my fall skidding it backward.

Cyrus loomed over me, bracing himself on the polished wooden arms of the chair. “Do not abuse my patience and I won’t need to display the force of my will.”

For the first time, I felt utterly weak and vulnerable beside him. I knew he wouldn’t kill me. He was too fond of his trophy. But that served little comfort when I knew exactly how much torture a vampire could live through.

I almost apologized, but as I stared into his cold, mismatched eyes, I saw nothing to compel my forgiveness.

With a firm shove to the chair, he stomped over to the secret door, his open robe trailing behind him.

“What about my breakfast?” I called after him, a little emboldened after my staring-contest victory.

“I’ll have Clarence bring it,” he growled. “But after this, you’d better learn to drink from a human, like a real vampire. Your behavior is a reflection on me, and I won’t have anyone saying my blood is weak.”

After he’d gone, I went to the bedroom to change. As angry as he was, I didn’t think I’d see Cyrus again that night, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. I dressed in clothes I found in the armoire instead of the ones Nathan had bought me. A black turtleneck and loose-fitting slacks were the closest items I could find to my preferred uniform of T-shirt and jeans.

Clarence brought my evening meal, a still-warm carafe of blood accompanied by a selection of fresh fruit, the B-movie version of a continental breakfast. I tried to make some cheerful conversation, but he only provided the minimum requirement of polite response. I eventually gave up and finished my meal in silence.

When I ventured from my room, I found the Fangs were out in full force. Curiosity brought me to the ballroom, where a new row of bikes testified that more vampires had arrived. I expected some trouble from them, but nothing happened. On the contrary, the thugs saluted me with a fearful courtesy. I fully expected them to start bowing and genuflecting when they saw me.

The only person who seemed to want interaction with me was Dahlia. I discovered her lounging on one of the deserted sofas in the foyer, reading a magazine. She made a noise as I passed, presumably to get my attention. When I ignored her, she swept her hair back from her shoulder, revealing a fresh bite mark. She yawned loudly and stretched. “I am just so tired. But why shouldn’t I be? I was up all day.” She giggled and crossed her legs. Her already short skirt rode up, flashing a generous portion of white thigh. Fang marks scored her ample flesh there, as well.

“Do you think you’re making me jealous?” I asked. For some insane reason I was, but I’d eat raw cactus before I admitted it to her.

She shrugged. “No. I just feel sorry for you. Your first day here and he sends for someone else to spend his time with. It’s sad, really.”

“I can think of sadder things.” I dropped onto the sofa beside her and picked up a magazine from the stack at her side. “Ooh, hot spring beauty trends.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw her raise her hand.

I clucked my tongue condescendingly. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He’d kill you if you harmed me.”

She snorted derisively. “Whatever. He thinks you’re pathetic.”

Though I doubted the validity of her statement, it called to mind Cyrus’s earlier angry slur. I dropped the magazine and shifted to face her. “More pathetic than a vampire groupie hanging on to her last scrap of hope?”

Dahlia didn’t rise to the bait this time. “If I were you, I would seriously avoid pissing him off. He owns you. He can make your life hell.”

“I don’t think I can avoid pissing him off.” Quieter, I added, “Not if it means being like him.”

With a sigh of obvious contempt, she tore her attention away from a page detailing the best cut of jeans for different body types. “Yeah, and what is he like?”

“What do you mean?” The realization we were having an actual conversation struck me as odd, but Dahlia seemed unperturbed by it.

“What is he like?” she repeated. “I mean, since you’ve taken the time to get to know him and all.”

Ouch. She had a good point. I didn’t know Cyrus. At least, not as well as she did. I tried to imagine what it would be like if I were in her shoes. She clearly had some affection for him, to stay after all the violence I’d seen him inflict on her.

I cleared my throat. “I suppose I meant evil. I don’t want to be evil.”

She rolled her eyes, not bothering to cover her impatience with me. “News flash, not everything is good or evil.”

“I don’t follow.”

She tossed her magazine aside and twisted her body toward me, pulling one meaty leg up on the couch in a very lewd manner. “Okay, let’s pretend there was a tornado, and it destroyed like, half the town. That’s bad, right?”

I wasn’t quite sure where she was going with this analogy, but I nodded in agreement.

“So since the tornado did something bad, by your logic, it’s evil?”

“I wouldn’t call a tornado evil, no.”

“Why?” she asked in a way that suggested she knew what my answer would be.

“Because it’s just a tornado. It’s part of nature.”

“Just like vampires are a part of nature.” She didn’t seem very pleased to prove her point, but more annoyed at having lost precious seconds of her life teaching me. “Some things aren’t good or evil. Some things just…are.”

With that, she stood and gathered her magazines. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d rather drive nails through my eyeballs than have to sit here and play nice with you anymore.”

“Well, fuck you, too,” I said under my breath as she charged up the stairs.

So we weren’t bound to become Best Friends Forever, but at least she could talk to me without trying to kill me. And to be honest, if she got so sick of being polite that she did drive nails into her eyes, well, that would be a bonus.

I looked to the magazine in my lap, the one Dahlia hadn’t bothered to collect on her way out. Beauty magazines didn’t usually appeal to me, but I didn’t usually have so much time on my hands, either. I flipped to an article about the bacterial hazards of tanning beds and assured my horrified brain that it was medical research.

I’d only read the first paragraph when the study doors burst open, admitting the sounds of male exertion and clashing steel. Cyrus glided into the room dressed in tight black leather pants and a billowy white shirt that was unbuttoned to the waist. His long hair was pulled back and he carried a fencing foil. All he needed to complete the ensemble was an eye patch and parrot. I tried not to laugh as the image formed in my brain.

Wiping droplets of bloody sweat from his brow, he tossed the foil to the guard that followed him. I pretended to be too interested in my magazine to notice their presence.

Cyrus sat next to me with an exhausted sigh as he tugged the black leather gloves from his fingers. “Good evening, Carrie.”

“Ahoy, matey. Going sailing?” Although I was still mindful of his sudden change in temper earlier in the evening, I couldn’t help but push it a little. That was my nature.

He put his arm around me, a gesture so familiar and strong that I had to force myself to pull away. He paid no mind to my reaction. “I was just brushing up on my defense. Roger is a wonderful fencer, aren’t you, Roger?”

The guard nodded sharply. “It’s Robert, sir. And yes, I am.”

I didn’t engage myself in the conversation and flipped a few pages in the magazine.

Cyrus leaned in close under the pretense of reading over my shoulder. “That’s quite an interesting look. I’ve never cared for women with too much eye makeup, but it certainly would look striking on you.”

“I’ll have to remember that in case I ever feel compelled to impress you.”

Despite my best efforts, I felt my body react to the pull of the blood tie. Everything about him seemed appealing, pirate shirt aside. He smelled wonderful. He felt even better pressed to my side. Then I thought of him with Dahlia. He’d been doing God knew what with her all day, slipping away periodically to “check” on me. I wasn’t hurt by his unfaithfulness, and rather surprised myself for expecting fidelity in the first place.

I flipped another page, hoping to cover my emotions with sarcasm. “Captain Hook called. He wants his shirt back.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re angry with me.”

There was no denying it. He could feel it through the blood tie. “Yeah, actually, I kind of am.”

“Because of our fight?” He circled his arm around my shoulders again, holding me fast when I tried to shrug him off. “All couples fight. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Couple? “I was single last time I checked.”

He smiled and twisted a strand of my hair around his index finger. “Then why are you so upset that I spent time with Dahlia?”

I sniffed. “Am I that transparent?”

“It’s not hard to tell. Jealously is practically radiating off of you.” He put his hand on my knee. “You’re aware of the role Dahlia plays here.”

“Executive knob polisher?”

“That’s a rather crude way of putting it, but yes. There’s no need to feel threatened by her. You’re my blood.”

“How can I help but be threatened by her? She’s your favorite.” I pushed him away and got up.

He looked me up and down, not bothering to disguise his lustful stare. Turtleneck or not, I felt naked. I covered my face in frustration. “Never mind. You won’t understand. I hate being jealous and you aren’t even listening.”

“I am listening,” he insisted.

“No,” I said as I ran a hand over my hair. “I’m just being stupid. I’ve been trained since birth to be competitive and Dahlia brings out the worst in me. But you’re not helping.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. Let me make it up to you,” he suggested, standing to guide me back to the couch.

“How?” I’d expected him to pull me into his lap, but he sat a comfortable distance from me.

“Let me woo you. Give me a chance to show you how dear you are to me.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa. “How about dinner? We can get to know each other better.”

“I remember the last dinner date we had. I’m not interested in another postmortem.”

“No bodies, I promise,” he assured me with a smile. “For a doctor, you’re awfully squeamish.”

“It’s not about being squeamish. It’s about having an ounce of humanity left.” Every moment I spent with him faded my anger, like a photograph exposed to sunlight. I tried to find reasons to stay mad at him, but it was difficult when I was this close to him. “Wouldn’t that make Dahlia jealous?”

“I don’t think she’s the only one who’s jealous.” He lifted his hand and cupped my chin, turning my face to his. “Dahlia is a momentary distraction. I’ll have you forever.”

Forever. For the first time since I’d made the bargain for Nathan’s life, I realized the ramifications of my promise. How long would I live? Cyrus had managed to stay alive for more than six hundred years. I’d fought the fiend lurking inside me for only a night, and I’d barely been able to stand it.

Perhaps my fall was inevitable.

Gently, Cyrus pressed his cold mouth to mine. I didn’t resist. But not because I didn’t have the willpower or because the blood tie was manipulating my response. I kissed him back because I wanted to prove to him, and myself, that he made me feel nothing. That I was still in control.

It didn’t quite work out that way. I wrapped my arms around his neck and let him pull me closer. I sensed his surprise, but when he drew back he smiled as though he’d won a great battle. “Now, that wasn’t so terrible.”

It wasn’t. He leaned in for another when I heard the forgotten guard clear his throat. Annoyance danced across my sire’s face, but he quickly covered it with a smile as he stood and straightened his shirt. “Roger, what would you say to another match?”

“Robert, sir. I would be honored.” The guard tossed him his foil.

Cyrus caught it and gracefully took up a ready stance. “Dinner, in my chambers, 5:00 a.m.,” he instructed me. “Please be on time.” With that, he and the guard parried and thrusted their way out of the room.

I closed my eyes. It would have been all too easy to blame my submission on the blood tie, but I couldn’t lie to myself. There was a magnetism about him that had nothing to do with his being a vampire. Despite the horrible way he’d treated me this morning, for a moment he’d made me believe he cared for me as something more than a possession.

It was the most dangerous tactic he’d employed in this battle so far.