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 20

Consummation

Cyrus’s proclamation shook me to the core. Once I was sure he’d fully recovered from his fast, I left him alone to finish his reading or whatever the hell he did when he was locked away in his study.

The Soul Eater. Though I’d never heard the name, it struck fear into my heart.

Cyrus had given me a brief rundown of the New Year’s festivities. They’d picked January thirtieth because of its proximity to Bride’s Day, an ancient Celtic holiday celebrating the young Sun God’s courtship of the Virgin Goddess.

“It’s all about innocence,” Cyrus had said smugly. “The point of the New Year’s festivities is to choose someone with a pure soul and turn them. When Father kills them, instead of a frothy afterlife of clouds and harps, their souls have nowhere to go. Father collects those souls, and they sustain him for another year.”

What would it be like to be forever trapped in another person’s body? I prayed I’d never find out. I had yet another incentive to stay on Cyrus’s good side. Not that staying on his good side would be any trouble after sunup, if his enthusiasm of the night before was any indication. I tried, and failed, to keep my hormones in check as dawn drew closer.

It was 6:00 a.m. when I finally decided to go to him. My senses were so attuned to his that I knew I’d find him in his bedroom. Occasionally, a thrum of anticipation shivered through the blood tie, but I couldn’t tell if it was from his or my own desire.

I didn’t change or put on any makeup. I didn’t want to appear too eager. When I was stripped of my clothing, a cool facade was the only armor I’d have left.

Cyrus’s room was much different tonight than it had been on my previous visit. The sitting room was dark and cold. No fire had been lit. Cyrus was nowhere to be seen, but the door to his bedroom stood slightly open, and warm, flickering candlelight spilled out.

If I’d had any illusions about my purpose for being there, I would have been put abruptly in my place. Still, a gentle seduction would have been nice. No one likes to know they’re a sure thing.

My heart pounding, from trepidation or anticipation I didn’t know, I pushed the door wide.

The canopied bed, cream-colored furnishings and wrought-iron accents all appeared the same. I noted with relief that no heavily sedated pet lay on the bed. The bedclothes were turned down, and black rose petals had been sprinkled liberally over the ivory duvet. Apparently tonight was all about me. I would have been more convinced if he’d bothered to acknowledge me when I entered.

Cyrus sat at his small writing desk beside the window, head bent in concentration. His hair was tied back and he wore his black silk robe. He was so absorbed in his task that I had to clear my throat to get him to look at me.

He didn’t lift his face, but I heard the smile in his voice. “I’ll be with you in a moment, Carrie. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

“You make it sound like we’re about to close on a house.” Was that my voice, tight and nervous as it scraped from my throat?

“In a way, we are closing a type of deal. Doesn’t this officially buy your little friend’s life?” Unadulterated excitement radiated through the blood tie. There was no tenderness from him, only dark, perverse lust. The intensity of it should have frightened me, but his desire overrode my fear and left me trembling in its wake.

I watched him fold the sheet of paper and noticed his hands shook. He was struggling for self-control, I realized. In a purely antagonistic gesture, I conjured a vivid picture of us in my mind, of myself naked, on my hands and knees as he pushed into me from behind, head thrown back in pleasure.

He hissed as the image materialized in his brain, and his back straightened. I heard him take a few deep breaths before he stood. “You have a very creative imagination, Carrie.”

With the deadly smile of an advancing predator, he moved toward me. His robe, open to the waist as usual, slithered against him like living skin in the candlelight. “Don’t you think this would have been more interesting?”

Blackness, then a crystal-clear vision invaded my mind. A girl, probably no more than sixteen, lay in the center of the huge bed. My hands pinned her arms to the bed and she screamed in terror as I sank my fangs into her neck. Cyrus captured her wildly struggling legs and parted them, thrusting into her as the spark of life drained from her eyes.

I shook my head to be rid of the vision, only to see anger contort his handsome face.

“Don’t ever forget whom you’re dealing with,” he warned, pulling me against him so I could feel his erection through the thin silk of his robe. “I am capable of things you couldn’t begin to comprehend.”

Just as suddenly as his sinister mood appeared, it faded. Kissing me on the cheek, he stepped back to look me over. He frowned as he took in my jeans and T-shirt. “I thought you’d wear something more…appropriate. Didn’t I buy you anything suitable for this occasion?”

He had. In the armoire were several revealing outfits, including a Catholic school girl costume that I’d stuffed far back in the drawer in disgust.

I shrugged. “I assumed I wouldn’t be wearing much for long.”

His mouth quirked at my blunt words. “Very perceptive of you.”

He motioned to the mantel above the fireplace. Just as in the outer room, no fire burned. “Would you like anything to drink?”

I eyed the green liquid in the crystal carafe and shook my head. The blood tie was intoxicating enough. I needed a clear head tonight. “No. I’d rather just—”

“Get it over with?” he finished for me, and I dared not reply.

He trailed a fingernail down my neck and followed it with his tongue. The sensation sent stabs of desire racing south, and I felt myself becoming wet. No living man had ever pulled such a response from me. I couldn’t hold back my moan.

His tongue teased the lobe of my ear, his breath stimulating the moistened flesh as he whispered, “You’re such a puzzling woman. This afternoon you were affectionate and caring. Now you hold back.”

He drew away and cupped the back of my head with his hand, forcing me to look him in the eyes. His missing eye was still hidden by the patch, but the one that remained stared hard into mine. “What am I to you, Carrie?”

Though his touch was gentle, I felt his true intent. He wanted to break me, to make me as shameless with lust for him as Dahlia and the other simpering pets in his harem.

And from what I’d experienced so far, he was very good at what he did. I swallowed. “You’re my sire.”

“Is that all I am?” There was a note of sadness in his tone, but I didn’t answer. He hadn’t been asking me.

He reached beneath my shirt and dragged his nails across my stomach. My breath hitched. Then he turned away. “Undress and come to bed.”

Wrapping my arms around my stomach, I could still feel his cold hands there.

Cyrus moved to the bed, not once looking at me. He shrugged off the robe, revealing a body so white and firm it could have been chiseled from marble.

My mouth went dry at the thought of him above me, filling me. I wanted to blame this new wave of longing on the blood tie, but I couldn’t. I wanted him.

Maybe that was his first victory. But looking at Cyrus, the ripple of his muscles moving beneath tight skin, I wondered why I’d wanted to fight at all. There wasn’t much left for me outside these walls. I couldn’t go back to the hospital. I had no home, no friends, no family. Why should I run from the one person who truly wanted me?

I pulled my T-shirt over my head and stepped out of my jeans then climbed onto the foot of the bed and crawled toward him in nothing but my black satin bra and panties. His eye flashed in hungry recognition, and he pulled the covers aside to let me under.

The linen sheets were crisp and cool and far too real against my skin. I was about to do something forbidden, to surrender fully to something I was all too aware was wrong.

But it’s something you’ve chosen. You’re in control.

How easily I could lie to myself. I was as far from control as California was from Connecticut. Even the touch of my hair as it brushed my back turned me on.

Cyrus pulled me into his arms, his naked skin made somewhat warmer from desire. “You look better than I thought you would,” he practically purred as he swept a hand down my back and over the curve of my buttocks.

Goose bumps rose on my skin. “How did you think I’d look?”

He traced lazy circles over the rise of my spine as his hands moved over my back. “I don’t know. Perhaps harder, more manly. You always hide beneath such masculine clothes.”

I pushed against him, my breasts spilling over the cups of the bra as they pressed against his chest. He dipped his head and ran his tongue across the seam between the fabric and my flesh. “But not tonight.”

Sliding the straps down my arms, he leaned away, exposing my newly uncovered skin to the cold of the room. His eye darkened as he reached for the front clasp of my bra and released it.

I wanted nothing more than to yank the blankets up to my chin and hide from his severe evaluation, but he threw them aside so his view was entirely unobstructed.

He said nothing, unsure of what I expected to hear. He took his time looking me up and down until I thought I’d scream just to break the tension.

Slowly, deliberately, he glided a sharp fingernail from the hollow of my throat to the top of my panties. I arched my hips shamelessly, and he slid his finger beneath the satin, slicing the garment with his nail. Then he took the two halves of the fabric and ripped it completely away from my body.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been with one of our kind?” he whispered, lowering his head to nibble my stomach.

I didn’t particularly want to know about his past conquests, but I asked, anyway. “How long?”

“Over half a century.” He parted my legs, running the tips of his nails leisurely up and down the insides of my thighs. “Sex with humans doesn’t compare.”

With a flick of his wrist, he made a shallow cut just above my knee. I hissed at the pain of it, then moaned when he lifted my leg and closed his mouth over the blood that welled there.

When he withdrew, red smeared his lips. He leaned to kiss me, and I zealously sucked my own blood from his mouth. How strange that such a short time ago I’d feared the consumption of blood. Now I thought nothing of it.

“You taste as good as I remember,” he murmured against my cheek. His hand skimmed farther down my thigh, and he made another cut, this one deeper.

My body burned as he slid down to lap at the new wound. His hair brushed against my aching sex, a cruel tease.

This wasn’t what I had expected. I’d never really enjoyed sex much before. It was a thing that naturally happened in a relationship, but I’d never felt I needed it. Not like this, feeling as though I’d die if he left me right now, or at least cling to his legs whimpering and begging for more. He set out to seduce, to savor each moment, and I found myself enjoying the sensation of his icy lips on my skin. His wicked fingers stroking my legs. His hard body against mine.

He made a cut in the sensitive seam where my leg met my body, and “accidentally” bumped his cheek against my mound when he moved to suck away the blood. My legs twitched and tightened around his head.

“Could it be you’re actually enjoying yourself?” he asked in mock surprise.

I closed my eyes, unwilling to see his satisfied expression when I spoke. “Yes.”

He nipped at my chin. “Tell me you want me.”

Closing my eyes, I breathed, “I want you.”

“Not the sex, Carrie. Tell me you want me.” His words snapped my eyes open. His face was filled with pure, undisguised longing. He wasn’t asking if I desired him. He was asking me to love him.

He needed me to say yes. His desperate fear of rejection saddened me. But the piece of me that was still unaffected by the blood tie held me back. It was the piece of me that hadn’t been touched by anyone. I wasn’t about to surrender it. “I’m sorry, Cyrus.”

I thought he’d push me away, put an end to the encounter. Instead, he became more focused, kissing me harder and with more passion than he’d ever shown me before. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, threatening pain with his razor-sharp nails and pleasure with his gentle touch.

He traced a path down my body with his tongue, until he reached the hot, slick entrance he sought. Parting me with his thumbs, he blew a gentle stream of frosty breath across my quivering flesh. I tried to lift my hips against his mouth, but he pushed me down on the bed. Before I could protest, he was on top of me, pressing the rigid length of his cock against me. He yanked my head back with my hair. “Tell me you love me.”

I was speechless. I feared the actions that would be wrought by the fury etched on his face.

“Lost your voice?” He reached between our bodies and roughly shoved two fingers inside me. I shrieked in pain as his sharp talons plowed through my sensitive flesh, but he covered my mouth with his other hand. “Well, you can scream easily enough.”

As suddenly as his touch had turned violent, he became gentle. His fingers, still buried deep within me, no longer tore at me. They stroked, as if seeking to repair the damage done. The fleshy pads of his fingertips massaged and delved, swirling over the hypersensitive spot that had eluded all the other men I’d been with. I bit down on the hand that still covered my mouth to keep from moaning.

I should have fought him, should have defended myself. But I couldn’t. His excitement fed mine. He pulled his hand from my mouth to hear my sobs of pleasure.

He withdrew his fingers. I saw my blood on them, mixed with the wetness of my arousal. Cyrus brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean, holding my gaze as he did so.

Tell him to stop, my rational mind cried out as the prison of my body panted, waited, begged to come with words I’d never imagined saying. When Cyrus ruthlessly thrust into my torn flesh, I screamed in grateful agony.

His face was a study in blasphemous rapture as he flexed his hips, driving himself deeper. Cyrus was hard and cold inside me, like glass, and was nearly too much for my overloaded nerve endings.

“Bite,” he gasped, leaning his neck close to my mouth.

I shook my head, trying to regain some of the control I’d lost. He slapped me across the face, and I flinched. “Do it!”

I opened my mouth, trying desperately to summon my transformation, but it wouldn’t come. He growled in frustration, so to avoid another blow, I bit down hard on his neck with blunt, human teeth.

He yelped in surprise, and no wonder. I felt the force of the pain in my own throat, and it wasn’t pleasant. A fresh surge of his lust seared my veins.

“Drink.”

As the first drops fell to my lips, I came. My body shuddered and my legs twisted around his back. My mouth froze open in breathless pleasure while his blood dripped onto my tongue.

Then I was rushing forward, and though I fought it, my eyes opened and I was once again in Cyrus’s body, looking into his past.

The images were disjointed. They flickered like a broken projector, some frames repeated over and over again. One by one they slipped into place, and the hazy, dizzy feeling in my head lifted.

Cyrus sat at a long table in a candlelit dining room. The air was hot and sticky, and stale cigar smoke made his eyes water. He wasn’t seated at a place of prominence. Instead, he was grouped with a few wealthy-looking men and women.

Cyrus turned his head to gaze at the woman next to him, and just beyond her there was a man in a military uniform that was definitely not American.

A deep, accented voice cut through the chatter. “Ladies and gentlemen, before our guests of honor arrive, I’d like to thank you all for coming.”

Cyrus turned his head toward the voice. A tall, thin man stood at the head of the table. His white hair was braided into plaits so long they nearly touched the floor in front of him. Though he appeared much more frail and withered than when I’d first seen him, the straight nose and cruel eyes were unmistakable. It was Cyrus’s father.

The Soul Eater.

When the older vampire’s gaze fell on his son, something that resembled love warmed his eyes. It passed all too soon, replaced by the calculating, predatory glare he gave everyone assembled.

“I also wish to remind you all of the rules. Only one of our guests tonight is the main course.” He chuckled at his joke, and the other vampires in the room laughed politely. “The other is for me. You’ll be able to tell, as they are clearly marked.”

Cyrus’s attention turned to the large double doors at the end of the dining hall. Two servants pulled them open. Framed in the cavernous wooden doorway stood Nathan and the woman I’d seen in the photograph from his closet. Nathan looked nearly the same as he did now, with the exception of his hair, which was shorter, and the healthy golden tone of his skin.

The woman at his side had lost all the youthful good looks I’d seen in the picture. Her cheeks were gaunt and dark circles ringed her eyes. She leaned on Nathan’s arm for support.

Cyrus focused on the pendant she wore. It was a golden dragon coiled around an extraordinarily large diamond.

The doors slammed shut behind them and there was an ominous clang as a large bolt slid into place.

“Bon appétit,” the old vampire said wickedly.

The faces of those seated at the table transformed. Their change was reflected in the horror on Nathan’s face and the weak acceptance on the woman’s. He stepped in front of her, as if to shield her, but the party guests descended on them, pulling them to the floor.

Cyrus stayed in his seat, and jumped when his father’s hand touched his shoulder. “One day, we’ll be finished with all of this,” the Soul Eater hissed in his ear.

“Yes, Father,” Cyrus replied, his throat dry. “One day, we’ll rule.”

Then he moved toward Nathan.

I wanted to manifest into some form I could control, so I could lash out at the Soul Eater and stop what was about to take place. But I knew what I saw wasn’t really happening. It was a part of the past, already over and unchangeable.

A pain in my head threatened to tear me apart. My vision clouded, but I clearly heard Nathan’s screams of anguish and terror as my senses tried to join me in the present. I saw twisted limbs, mangled torsos and flames, as though the earth had been consumed in them. Rivers of blood flowed through my mind.

I was back in my body, and Cyrus groaned as he spilled inside me. It was ice-cold.

I was going to be sick. With all my strength, I pushed him off me and rolled to the side of the bed. Blood, mine and his, was smeared all over the sheets. I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the sight. “What is your father?”

The sheets rustled behind me. I suppose Cyrus sat up. “I’ve told you.”

“But you haven’t told me, really.” I wasn’t sure if the chill creeping up my back was from the cold radiating from his skin or the drafty room. “What does it mean, that one day he’ll rule?”

He heaved a sigh and flopped audibly against the pillows. “It’s all very complicated. I’d rather sleep than talk about this.”

“Sometimes in life, we have to do things we don’t want to.” I sat up so I could face him. “Why don’t you just tell me?”

Cyrus obviously wasn’t happy with my postcoital pillow talk, but I wasn’t about to back down. He considered what I’d said for a moment, as if trying to gauge whether I was joking or not, then gave another exasperated sigh. “If you really want to know.”

“I do.” I hugged my knees to my chest, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I was to him.

“For years, my father has been searching for a way to recover his power. It’s a very secret quest, and even I’m not privy to the rituals and texts he’s reviewing.” There was a note of bitterness in Cyrus’s voice.

“Then how does he get them?” One day of consciousness per year didn’t seem like a lot of time to scour the libraries.

Cyrus let out a resentful laugh. “He has an assistant who does most of the reading for him. I don’t know who it is, but he’s assured me it’s someone he can trust.”

I wasn’t about to delve into Cyrus’s father issues, so I let the comment slide. “You told me your father was a peasant before he became a vampire. What power did he have that he needs to recover?”

“It’s not power he actually possessed. It’s the power he believes has been reserved for him. It’s locked away, waiting for him. He merely needs the key.” With an elegant shrug, he leaned on one elbow, a sinful smile curving his lips. He reached to gently stroke my arm. “But we can discuss this later.”

I shifted away from him angrily. “We can discuss it now. What exactly is the Soul Eater trying to do?” But I’d pushed him too far. The easy dialogue between Cyrus and I dried up immediately, as though someone had dammed the flow of words.

He settled back and closed his eyes. “I’m tired. If all you’re going to do is bother me with incessant questions, you may leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere!” I realized how shrill my voice sounded, but I didn’t care. “Tell me what’s going on!”

“You want to know what my father is planning?” Cyrus sat up and leaned toward me, his face now mere inches from mine. “When the time is right, and all the pieces fall into place, the Soul Eater will rise to become the most powerful vampire this world has ever seen. Humans will be cattle to feed my father’s minions. Any vampire who opposes him will be consumed. He will rule the world, and the world will perish.”

The religious fervor with which he spoke chilled me to the bone. When I spoke, I could barely force a whisper from my clamped throat. “You would help him do this?”

“Carrie, you knew who I was when you walked through the front door.” Cyrus looked almost wounded. “You can’t hate me for it.”

“No,” I agreed. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

I stood and tugged the top sheet loose from the others, wrapping it around myself with nervous hands. “But life isn’t fair, Cyrus. And right now, I don’t like you very much.”

He didn’t try to stop me as I limped from the room.