Chapter
17
Once again, Elena found herself being
led out of the Council chambers. But she wasn’t taken downstairs to
the women’s dormitory this time. Instead, Liliana escorted her into
a large chamber at the other end of the corridor.
“This will be your room for the
remainder of your stay,” the vampire said, her voice cool. “Please,
make yourself at home. You may have the run of the Fortress during
the daylight hours. I would advise you to remain in here, with the
door locked, when the sun goes down. You may dine in here, or join
the shee . . . the other women at mealtimes. Is there anything you
wish?”
Elena clasped her hands, took a deep
breath, and said, “I would very much like to see
Drake.”
“My son is no longer your
concern.”
Elena bit down hard on her lower lip.
It was the only way to stifle the angry words of protest that rose
in her throat. She would have gone down on her knees and begged,
but she knew doing so would accomplish nothing but her own
humiliation. Instead, she straightened her spine and said, “You’re
right, of course.”
Something that might have been
compassion flickered in the depths of Liliana’s deep green eyes,
and was quickly gone. “There is a nightgown and a change of
clothing in the wardrobe. If you have need of anything at all,
there will be a drone outside your door. Just tell him what you
want.”
Elena nodded. A drone? What on earth
was that?
“I bid you good night,” Liliana said,
and with a last look around the room, she took her leave, quietly
closing the door behind her.
Elena stood in the middle of the room.
It was a far cry from the dormitory where the sheep were housed.
Several landscapes adorned the pale yellow walls. Plush beige
carpeting muffled her footsteps. A ceramic pitcher and several
glasses sat atop an ornately carved three-drawer chest, along with
a hair brush and hand mirror. A flowered quilt covered a large
brass bed. A wooden shelf held a number of books written in several
different languages, as well as numerous DVDs and CDs for the TV
and stereo housed in a small entertainment unit. Curious, she
opened the door to the left of the bed and stepped inside,
surprised to find a small bathroom. There was no tub, just a
commode, sink, and shower. A shelf held several
towels.
Returning to the main room, she went to
the window and pulled back the heavy drapery. A bright yellow moon
shone on the snowcapped mountains in the distance. It was too dark
to see anything else, but she stood there for several minutes,
staring at the wispy gray clouds drifting across the inky
sky.
Where was Drake? Was someone caring for
him? How long would it take for those dreadful burns to heal? Was
he still a prisoner? Would they let her see him again?
So many questions and no one to answer
them.
Suddenly overcome with weariness, she
sat on the edge of the bed and removed her shoes, then let down her
hair.
There would be time enough for answers
tomorrow.
Drake lay on his back on a thick pallet
in a cell in the dungeon beneath the Fortress, his arms folded
behind his head. It was a dismal place, but preferable to being
locked in the tower. A sound of disgust rose in his throat. Trust
Rodin to drag out his punishment as long as possible, as if Drake
could forget that he was no longer a free man, or that his sire was
now making his decisions for him. The thought rankled beyond
bearing.
Earlier, Rodin had brought him one of
the sheep, but Drake had refused to feed, even though drinking from
her would have helped ease his pain and aided in his
healing.
It had been a foolish thing to do. He
would not heal without feeding, but his anger and his pride had
overridden his thirst.
Rodin had glared at him. Though his
sire hadn’t spoken a word, it was obvious he knew why Drake had
refused to feed, and just as obvious that he recognized the gesture
for the useless act of rebellion it was.
Drake swore. How had things gone so
wrong, so fast? He had badly underestimated Rodin’s determination
to have his own way. Considering the events of the last two days,
it was difficult to believe he was his sire’s favorite son, but
Drake knew it to be true. The fact that he still lived was proof of
it.
He groaned low in his throat as the
hunger burned through him. Maybe he should have fed. The pain that
wracked him was constant. He could feel his veins shrinking. His
fangs ached. His blistered skin throbbed incessantly. But even
worse than his physical pain was his need to see Elena, to hold her
in his arms, to bury himself in her sweetness.
Closing his eyes, he summoned her image
to the forefront of his mind. How had he lived so long without her?
She was like the sun, bringing light into the darkness of his life.
He thought of the night they had made love, the way she had given
herself to him, the joy he had found in her arms. She had been
afraid of what he was, yet she had come to him eagerly, giving him
all she had, her love pouring over him as warm and bright as summer
sunshine. He remembered the taste of her on his tongue, the way her
life’s blood had warmed him, turning away the hunger, lighting the
darkness of his soul.
What was he to do without her? Where
was she now? He tried to find her through the blood link they
shared, but he was too weak, the pain too strong, to
concentrate.
A cry erupted from his throat, torn
from the very depths of his being, a mournful wail that rolled all
his pain and loneliness into one long anguished howl that
reverberated off the walls and echoed in every room in the
Fortress.
And those who loved him heard and wept
bitter tears.
Elena woke with an overpowering sense
of loss. As much as she might wish otherwise, her brief marriage
was over. What was worse, Drake was going to marry someone else. He
might insist he didn’t want to wed Katiya, but what man—mortal or
vampire—would find such a union distasteful? The vampire was
beautiful. Her skin was so clear, it almost glowed. Her hair was
thick and rich, her figure perfect. Looking at her had made Elena
feel as grubby and undesirable as an old worn-out
shoe.
If only she could leave this place now!
How long would Rodin insist on keeping her here? What if—horrible
thought—he made her attend the wedding? She would rather die than
watch Katiya become Drake’s bride. How was she going to face the
future, knowing he was sharing his life with another woman,
fathering a child with someone else? No matter how long she lived,
she would never forget him.
Swinging her legs over the side of the
bed, Elena sat up and stared at the wall. If Rodin sent her away,
where would she go? Surely not back to her uncle. Drake had said if
the time came when she no longer wanted to be his wife, he would
give her Wolfram Castle and the means to support herself for the
rest of her life. But he was in no position to do that now, so
where did that leave her?
Rising, she went into the bathroom and
washed her hands and face while she considered her
options.
Whether Drake approved or not, she had
little choice but to return to Wolfram Castle when and if she left
here. She had nowhere else to go. Maybe she could demand that Rodin
provide her with enough money to live on until she could find a
job. After all, it was his fault she was now a divorced woman with
no visible means of support.
She paused as she dried her hands. Did
she really want to go back to the castle when Jenica was buried in
the garden? What was she going to do about Jenica? Drake had
promised to find her cousin’s murderer, but that wasn’t going to
happen now. And what about her uncle? She would be helpless without
Drake to protect her.
Going to the window, she pulled back
the curtain and stared outside, a gasp rising in her throat. The
view in daylight was spectacular. The Fortress, situated on a
mountain peak, overlooked a deep green valley bisected by a narrow
ribbon of blue water. Several small cottages dotted the valley
floor. How sad for the men and women who were kept here to live in
view of such a beautiful place and never be able to see it, never
be allowed to go outside to enjoy it.
Turning away from the window, she
removed her nightgown, then went to the small wardrobe beside the
bed. Opening the double doors, she found a simple green cotton
dress with a round neck, long sleeves, and a bell-shaped skirt
hanging beside her lavender silk. There was also a pair of jeans
and a short-sleeved pink sweater.
Dress or pants? Pants or dress?
Deciding the jeans made her feel less vulnerable, she quickly
pulled them on and slid the sweater over her head. Liliana had also
thoughtfully provided a pair of white sandals. Like the jeans and
sweater, they fit perfectly.
Summoning her courage, Elena unlocked
the door and stepped into the corridor. A man—a very big man with
massive shoulders—stood beside her door. He didn’t speak, didn’t
smile, just stood there like a statue, his gray eyes curiously
empty. Was he the drone Liliana had mentioned?
Elena hesitated, then turned and
started walking down the hall. Liliana had said she could roam at
will. Being curious about the Fortress, she intended to do just
that.
She hadn’t gone far when she realized
the Hulk was following her. To protect her? Or to keep her from
stumbling into something she shouldn’t?
No matter, she thought, she was going
exploring.
The room to the right of hers was a
library, larger than any she had ever seen before. Floor-to-ceiling
shelves, each filled with books, lined every wall. Several sofas
and comfortable-looking chairs occupied the center of the room,
along with several low tables. She wandered from shelf to shelf,
perusing the titles, noting that there were books in a multitude of
languages. She took one from the shelf and thumbed through it. It
was in a language she didn’t recognize, but thought might be
Russian. The pages were edged in gold leaf; the drawings that
accompanied the words were breathtaking.
After carefully returning the volume to
the shelf, she left the library.
There were two rooms across the hall.
The first held numerous works of art. Some were framed and mounted
on the walls; other canvases were on easels. Glass shelves held
figurines and statues made of blown glass, pewter, onyx, and
marble. Picking up a statue of an old woman carved from wood, Elena
ran her hand over the smooth oak, marveling at the intricate detail
even as she wondered whether the works of art had been created by
the vampires.
The next door opened onto a music room.
She stood there a moment, her gaze moving from the piano in the far
corner to the harp, violins, cellos, flutes, triangles, and drums
scattered around the room. Several music stands held pages of sheet
music. Did vampires dance? And sing? And play musical
instruments?
The room at the far end of the corridor
was the Council chamber. There were no pleasant memories in that
room and she didn’t go inside.
The man continued to follow her as she
went in search of the dining room, which she knew was somewhere
downstairs. She didn’t know if she was too early or too late, but
she had the place all to herself. Going into the kitchen, she
helped herself to a scone from a covered tray and washed it down
with a cup of lukewarm tea. Plucking another scone from the tray,
she nibbled on it as she left the dining room.
Behind the next door, she found a
laundry room furnished with several washers and dryers, as well as
a sink and a long counter. A quick glance, and she moved
on.
Remembering that there were no windows
in the lower levels, she plucked a fat candle from a wall sconce to
light her way before descending the stairs to the dormitories and
the day rooms. A lantern hanging from the ceiling provided faint
illumination on this floor. She frowned, wondering who the light
was for. The drones, perhaps?
The doors were all locked from the
outside, of course, but she could hear voices coming from the rec
room. She stood there a moment, listening to the muted voices of
the women, the occasional laughter. She felt a brief rush of
loneliness. The sheep might not be free, but they seemed happy in
their captivity, while she had nothing, and no one.
The next floor down was pitch black and
eerily silent. She knew immediately that this floor housed the
vampires. Was Drake down here? Would she feel his presence if he
was nearby? She tiptoed down the long hallway, her footsteps
muffled by the thick carpet. She paused at each door but heard
nothing. Did Rodin and Liliana live down here with the others, or
did they have quarters elsewhere?
At the end of the hallway, she found a
narrow wooden door. When she tried to open it, the drone caught her
hand. When she looked up at him, he shook his head.
“Dungeon,” he said, his voice flat.
“You should not go there.”
“Liliana said I could go wherever I
wished.”
The drone looked confused for a moment,
as if no one had ever dared defy him before, and then it occurred
to her that she was probably the first to do so. Surely the sheep
would not disagree with any order given them. When she didn’t back
away, he shrugged and allowed her to pass.
Elena opened the door, and then
hesitated at the top of the stairs. Did she really want to go down
there alone? But then, she wasn’t alone. The Hulk was right behind
her. Still, it seemed the height of foolishness. Who knew what she
might find down there? Visions of skeletons and dead rats flashed
through her mind. Maybe the drone was right.
With a shake of her head, she was about
to close the door when she heard Drake’s voice in her mind, as
clearly as if he was standing beside her. She peered into the
darkness at the foot of the stairs. Was Drake down
there?
Chewing on her lower lip, she started
down the stairs. The musty scent of rot and decay rose up to meet
her. She paused midway down the staircase, one hand on the rail,
listening, but all she heard was the sound of the Hulk’s breathing
coming from behind her.
She had come this far, she thought,
might as well see it through. She moved cautiously down the
remaining steps, the drone at her heels.
When she reached the bottom of the
staircase, she paused. In the eerie glow of the candle, she saw
that she was indeed inside a dungeon. Iron-barred cells lined both
sides of the room. Did the vampires keep prisoners down here? If
so, how did they survive the smell? The air was rank, the low
ceiling and stark surroundings oppressive. She shuddered at the
thought of humans being locked away down here for days, or perhaps
weeks, at a time, where no one could hear their screams for
help.
Elena moved forward, her steps sounding
overly loud in the silence. She gasped as a rat scurried past her.
She was about to turn back when she heard Drake’s voice in her mind
again.
“Drake!” She hurried forward, her gaze
darting right and left. “Drake?”
She found him in the last
cell.
He blinked against the light of the
candle. “What the hell are you doing down here?”
“I was just exploring, and . . . Oh,
Drake.” He looked a little better than the last time she had seen
him. It was obvious that he had been given the opportunity to bathe
and change his clothes, but it still broke her heart to see him
locked away in this dreadful place. “How long are they going to
keep you here?” she asked, then frowned. He wasn’t chained this
time. “Why don’t you just . . .” She lifted her free hand and let
it fall. “You know, just leave?”
“I gave Rodin my word I would do as he
wished.”
“And that includes letting him torture
you? What kind of monster is he?”
“I defied him,” Drake said. “For
centuries. Whatever fault there is, is mine.”
She reached through the bars, needing
to touch him.
“Keep away from me.”
“Drake, please.”
“No, Elena. Whatever we had is
over.”
“Is it?” She hated the way her voice
trembled. “You said you loved me.” Why couldn’t she be as cool and
detached as he appeared to be?
“I do love you. I will love you as long
as I live.” Unable to resist her tears, he moved toward her, one
hand reaching through the bars to wipe the dampness from her
cheeks. “Did he hurt you?”
She didn’t pretend not to know what he
was talking about, just as she knew there was no point in lying.
“Yes, but I’m all right.” She placed her hand over his, then rubbed
her cheek against his palm. “I don’t want to live without
you.”
“You must. I need to know you are alive
and well. I have made provisions for ownership of Wolfram Castle to
be transferred to you.”
“But it’s your home!”
“I will be staying here from now on.
Rodin will see that you have everything you need.”
“I don’t want anything from
him!”
“Take it. It comes from me, not him.”
His gaze moved over her face, as if to memorize every line. “I am
sorry for the pain I caused you. Had I stayed out of your life,
none of this would have happened. Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. You saved
me from my uncle. I’ve loved the time we had together.” She blinked
back the tears that threatened to fall. “And I love
you.”
His hand slid down her cheek, his
fingers curling around her nape, gently drawing her closer, closer.
Murmuring her name, he pressed his lips to hers.
Holding the candle out to the side, she
placed her free hand on his shoulder and closed her eyes. His kiss
was so tender, so filled with longing, that it brought a fresh wave
of tears to her eyes.
Knowing he would not be alone with her
again, Drake kissed her harder, deeper, his tongue tasting the
sweetness of hers while a voice in the back of his mind urged him
to defy his sire, to hold fast to Elena and will the two of them
back to Wolfram even though he knew it would be madness. There was
no escape. If he defied Rodin again, his sire would hunt him down
and destroy him, and Elena, too.
She moaned softly as his tongue tangled
with hers. The sound, filled with yearning, fired his desire and he
kissed her again and yet again, his rising desire igniting his
hunger. His fangs extended. One sharp tip grazed her tongue. The
taste of her blood roared through him. It had been days since he’d
fed. Need rose up within him, urging him to drag her closer, to
drink his fill and, in so doing, ease the dreadful agony that ebbed
and flowed with every breath.
Cursing the bars that separated them,
he slid his hand over her shoulder and down her arm, his fingers
curling over her wrist. He could feel the rapid beat of her pulse
beneath his fingertips, hear the quick tattoo of her
heartbeat.
Why not take what he so desperately
needed? He lifted her arm, ran his tongue over her palm to her
wrist. The scent of her warm, living blood called to him, enflaming
his hunger, promising an end to his pain. The beating of her heart
was like sweet music to his ears. His hand tightened on her arm as
his fangs teased the tender skin of her wrist.
“Drake . . . Drake! Stop!”
He was breathing heavily now, the urge
to feed riding him with whip and spurs.
Elena struggled in his grasp. She would
willingly have given him what he needed, but he wasn’t going to
allow her that option. He was going to take what he wanted. For the
first time since she had met him, she was in sudden fear for her
life.
Muttering, “Forgive me,” he bit down,
his fangs piercing the tender skin on the inside of her
wrist.
Exclaiming, “Forgive me!” Elena jabbed
the candle’s flame against his neck.
With a howl, he released her and backed
away, one hand slapping at the scorched cloth of his shirt
collar.
“I’m sorry!” she cried. “So
sorry!”
“Go.” He forced the word out through
clenched teeth. “Go now!”
Sobbing, Elena turned on her heel and
bolted up the stairs as if all the hounds of hell were barking at
her heels.
She didn’t stop running until she was
safely in her room, with the door locked.