Blood Enchanted (Blood Enchanted, Book 1): A Vampire Hunter Paranormal Romance Series (11 page)

“They are already here,
bey
Bahar.”

Hakan nodded as though he’d already suspected as much.

“How many?” he asked.

“Twenty. More are approaching from the VC.”

“Is
he
here?”

“Yes. But there is one who is even more furious than him.”

Hakan cocked his head, his blue eyes flashing silver in the dim hallway.

“I see,” he murmured, then he leaned forward, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck to lift me closer, and pressed his lips to mine. I couldn’t fight him, and that made me mad. A small fluttering of something I could use suffusing my body.

And then his
Sanguis Vitam
flowed into me, my defences down, my protective walls shattered beyond repair, my will to resist all but forgotten.

Mine
whispered on repeat through my head.
Kan büyülü
was added to the refrain. And then his hot lips coasted over my jaw, down my neck and rested above where he had bitten me earlier. The bite marks would have healed, even without his saliva to close the wound. I am part vampyre, I can heal when my body is whole enough to effect it. I was surprised I’d been strong enough now, and maybe I hadn’t been. Maybe it still bled and that’s why I was so weak, so depleted of strength, so exhausted.

Mix in three Dream Walking Light blasts and I was open to anything this vampire did.

A whimper escaped me.

Hakan paused. I had the feeling that it was against his better judgement, and then with a growl of regret he pulled back, taking his
Sanguis Vitam
with him.

He reached down and picked up my hand, and then placed it above his bite marks, where I’d just felt the hot, wet stroke of his tongue.

“I will not take what is not freely given,” he announced, his eyes cold and emotionless. “But you will give it freely soon.”

“No,” I whispered, the words barely audible against a pounding that had started up inside my head. “Never,” I managed before sickness made it difficult to open my mouth without needing to swallow.

“
Hayatim
,” he chastised gently, “never say never. You are proof of that.”

He stood up suddenly, and then both Hakan and Ediz disappeared.

I breathed. Slow, purposeful breaths of air into a crushed chest and deflated lungs. My pulse pounded in time to a rhythm that sounded too frantic, too real. Georgia made a sound behind me, her arm twitching and then somehow moving to wrap around me. She wasn’t breathing. There was no red glow in the now too dark hallway. Just a steel bar encaging me. Protecting me. Keeping me from floating away.

Hakan had wanted to mark me. The bite, the
Sanguis Vitam,
his words of promise all meant the same thing. But something had stopped him. Something had made the vampire halt in his tracks. A move that would have been remarkable had I the strength to reason it out just then.

Vampires on the hunt rarely stop. And they very rarely give up an opportunity to punish when they’ve been so slighted. Battle is battle, and although we hadn’t been in an arena, this confrontation had definitely been a fight. The start of a war.

He’d won, yet he’d walked away from the spoils.

He still had Luc, so one could assume that he felt justified in showing his hand.

But he’d walked away, and somehow that left me both fearful of what might come next, and disappointed. Those fucking ribbons twisted in a chill breeze of foretelling, tangling up my gut. Saddened. Lonely. Bereft.

Where was my anger? Where were my shields? I was in deep, deep trouble, and it was nowhere near over yet.

I let out a low moan of disquiet, felt Georgia’s arm band tighter around me, and sensed the shift in the air in front of my face.

I blinked. Light washed the half destroyed hallway. And magenta burst out of two very angry, very unamused, very wild looking eyes.

My father stood before me, staring down at the
Nothus
who had shoved me bodily behind her in lightning fast moves, and then shifting his extremely disgruntled gaze to my face.

Magenta flashed like lightning.

“Éliane,” Michel Durand, the Champion of the
Iunctio
, and my very irate father purred. “What have you done?”

I smiled. An instant and regretful reaction to have under the circumstances, and blinked up blearily at my dad.
He’d come.

And not just him, but from the feel of the
Sanguis Vitam
that pulsed in the air around me, so had the upper echelon of his line. The most powerful and hardened of his soldiers. The most deadly and quick to react to any threat.

I struggled to get out from behind a very protective Dark Shadow, swatting Georgia on the arm in frustration when she just growled. And felt the cool hand of a vampire wrap around my upper arm, and haul me into his side.

I blinked into Alain Dupont’s highly disapproving gaze, and felt my mother’s Light blast into Georgia when her vampire attempted to come to my aid.

“Uh…” I managed.

Papa growled.

Alain sighed.

And the Master of the City, Jett Vardi, one third of Georgia’s triumvirate, stormed through the back door.

W
e were
in so much trouble.

The Master of Auckland City, long dark, curly hair loose around too wide shoulders, thick lips pressed in a hard thin line, lethal glint in his steely blue eyes, stared down his crooked nose at Georgia as she sat shoulder to shoulder with me on the dust strewn floor of Hakan Bahar’s half destroyed hall.

Next to him, arms crossed over a broad, expensive suit-clad chest, fire and lightning shining in narrowed magenta washed eyes, nostrils flaring in an unbelievable show of restraint, stood the Champion of the
Iunctio.
Staring down
his
patrician nose at
me
.

Both Georgia and I turned to look at each other… and smirked.

Hell hath no fury like a vampire being laughed at.

Papa growled.

Jett joined him.

The walls rattled and the last remaining architrave crumbled as it lost its hold and fell to the floor.

Silence met its demise. I was finding it difficult to breathe.

“Did it not occur to you,” my father said, his French accent so much more pronounced with the increase in his rage, “that approaching the vampyre who holds your brother captive was a seriously miscalculated move?”

I didn’t say anything. The ability to speak was all but lost. Embarrassment had washed through me, making my exposed
Sigillum
flare a tell-tale tangerine. Being berated by my father was never a nice experience. But having to suffer through the indignity of it in front of the most powerful vampires of the Durand line was excruciating.

I gritted my teeth, lifted my chin and met the furious glare in his eyes.

“When will you,” he added, attempting to pronounce each word with the utmost care, “begin behaving like an adult? Is there, perhaps, a reason why you insist on such reckless and illogical behaviour? How do you think,” he went on, really winding up now, “this reflects on the family?”

“The family?” I repeated before I could stop myself.

“Yes, Éliane, the family! We have a responsibility to set an example…”

“And what of Luc?” I all but shouted back, somehow managing to get to my feet, the wall offering a decent crutch without being too obvious about it. “Is he not more important than our reputation? Is his capture not a slight against your precious appearances too?”

“Éliane,” Alain warned softly off to the side. I glared at him and returned my attention to my father.

“What have you been doing this past week?” I demanded. “Have you even attempted to confront Hakan about Luc? Or is the punishment in the offence?” I all but screamed. “Luc fucked up so now he has to pay the price for it!”

“Lucien knows what is required of him,” my father murmured. A deceptively soft purr that lured the unsuspecting into a trap.

I knew better. He was enraged.

“Luc,” I said, very, very carefully, “was crying out for help.” My father blanched. Not a hard ask for a vampire, but one as well fed as Michel Durand could usually avoid such revealing reactions.

“What do you mean?” he demanded. His eyes searching my face, slipping down my body to land on my
Sigillum
. He watched the colours swirl with tight lips.

“Did it not occur to
you
,” I said, throwing his words back at him, “that the arena is the last place Luc would ever be found?”

“Of course,” he replied, the words snapping out like a whip. “But unlike you, Lucien usually has a well thought out reason for his actions.”

I stared at him, my heart deflating. I’d always been such a disappointment.

“Élaine,” he said softly, taking a step forward, regret marring his stoic features at last.

I shook my head, let my gaze fall to the floor. The hallway seemed unnaturally quiet.

Until my mother cleared her throat.

“Perhaps it is time to return to the Plaza,” she suggested.

Georgia growled. She always growled when my mother said anything. My lips attempted to curve into something of a smile. Then I caught the look Mama and Papa shared. I couldn’t decipher it. But it was meaningful. And it was all to do with me.

That was it, I’d had enough. I was done. For most of my life I have lived in my parents’ shadows. I may have fucked up tonight, but not once when confronting Hakan had he acted as though I was anything less than a worthy opponent.

I turned to Georgia. Her eyes, still rimmed in the vestiges of her Dark Shadow’s red, held mine.

“It was fun,” she drawled. “Let’s do this again sometime.”

Jett made a snorting sound, then wrapped a hand around her wrist and hauled her down the hall, and out of sight. She didn’t fight him; her Dark Shadow was still too close to the surface. And her Dark Shadow was all Jett’s and no one else’s.

Vampires began to move again, as if given command to come alive. I lifted my eyes to Papa’s and crossed my arms over my chest, my
Sigillum
still fucking spinning its tell-tale colours.

“There is more going on than you realise,” he said, his French accent in check. His emotions all bottled away nicely.

I nodded my head in reply. There was always more going on than I realised. My father didn’t trust me enough to share all his secrets. Is it any wonder I kept mine?

“But I need to know, you’ll stay away from the Mhachkay.”

He knew that too. How much did my father already know about Hakan Bahar? How much leeway was he giving the foreign vamp because of their shared history? None of this made sense.

“I have no intention of seeking him out,” I gave as answer. I might have been reckless, but contrary to popular belief, I was not stupid. Hakan had won tonight.

But next time I’d be better prepared for the battle.

I could have asked Papa. I could have hounded my mother. I could have even pressed Alain. What did they know about the Mhachkay?

I kept my lips sealed and my face blank.

Papa sighed. It was a good sigh. Weighty.

“Leave your brother’s situation to me,” he instructed. Then reached for my mother’s hand and flashed from sight.

I hated when they did that.

His vampires all followed suit, until it was just me and Alain. Of course it was. I was his betrothed kindred, soon I’d be his problem. Not Papa’s.

“He worries about you,” Alain said, his eyes darkened with emotion.

I offered a snort and nothing else.

“You and he are much alike,” he said, making me roll my eyes as I started to walk out the front door. “You do not see it,” Alain persisted. “You are too close. But you remind Michel of himself.”

“Stop it!” I snapped, rounding on the man. “Enough, all right? Enough.” I turned back to the night and started walking.

I was tired. I was hungry. I was angry. And I was a little lost. Not literally. Figuratively. Parnell was up the hill from the wharves. At least that was something. The walk to Travis’ was all down hill from here.

“Éliane,” Alain called. “Let me drive you to the Plaza.” So, I was expected to tuck tail and behave.

“Are we going to fight again, Alain?” I asked.

“Only if you insist,” he replied steadily, keeping pace.

“I’m not going to the Plaza.”

“Your father has requested it.”

“Ordered it, more like.”

“Éliane, stop this,” he chided softly. “You cannot win.”

I halted in my tracks, staring up into an inky black sky. Clouds blotted out the stars, the swollen orb of the moon glowed menacingly from behind them. A high pitched screech came from the darkness. The clatter of something being broken shattered the night. The rapid clop of running feet on concrete set a rhythm to someone’s heartbeat. None of it reached us. We were cocooned in a bubble of hurt and heartache.

“Do you ever fight back?” I asked, my face still tipped to the night sky.

I felt him come along side me, his feet silent on the rubbish strewn road.

“There are battles that can be won, and battles that should be lost,” he murmured. “You fight when you have to, not when you think you must.”

I turned and looked at my father’s spy master, who had fought more battles for Michel Durand than any of the vampires in his large, large line. Was
he
a battle I should lose? Or a battle that simply couldn’t be won?

“I don’t want to be joined with you,” I said, the words sounding childlike in their simplicity. I fisted my hands, letting the sharp sting of nails in flesh ground me. “What if I refuse?”

Alain held my stare with an impassive one of his own, as if I hadn’t just resolutely rejected him. A sadness swept into the pale blue of his eyes. Sadness mixed strangely with acceptance. Alain had never met an argument he couldn’t win, and yet he was stepping down now?

No. Of course not.

He reached out and lifted my fisted hand up in his own, his fingers prying mine apart carefully. And then he lay your palms against each other. My hand tingled, I felt the hint of power that we could share. The promise of so much more to be uncovered. Just there, a thin layer of skin between us. One drop of blood each and it would be done.

I pulled my hand back and rubbed it with my other, my eyes narrowed on the man before me.

“He has brought the joining forward,” Alain said quietly.

I shook my head, taking a step back.

“He has lost Luc,” Alain pressed. “He is determined not to lose you as well.”

“Has he given up on my brother?” I demanded, my body beginning to shake with shock and rage and confusion. My father never gave up on anything, let alone his prodigal son.

Alain shook his head, thrust his hands into his trouser pockets, as if just realising they were empty and he wasn’t sure what to do with that fact, and held my gaze.

“Luc is where he needs to be, Éliane,” he said. “And you need to be with me.”

“No.”

“Less than three weeks to go, why is bringing the joining forward so hard to accept?” The unasked was there; in the way he looked at me, intently, focused entirely on the smallest nuisances my features provided. I could have sworn he was holding his breath.

Why was joining with
him
so hard to accept?

“Alain,” I said, wishing there was a way to make this easier. Accept him or reject him. Neither left me feeling at all right.

I rubbed my stomach, felt the ribbons inside flip and twist. My hand clenched, I pressed harder against my abdomen, my eyes scrunching shut as I willed the sensation forming to go away.

All it did was make it bigger. Larger than me. Too sizeable to fight.

I heard Alain say something. Indistinct. Distant. Then felt the brush of tiny tendrils of delight. Anticipation. Eagerness. Hunger. Desire.

A pull that had me lurching in one direction, while Alain called me from another.

And then the world around me changed.

Night became day. The moon became the sun. The road I walked on became an intricately patterned carpet instead. Spices reached my nose; rich and cloying, making me lick my lips. Music danced around me; soft and enticing. The smell of sunshine and heat, jasmine and cinnamon, cardamon and cloves wafted on the warm air. The touch of fingers across my collarbone, the press of soft lips against my neck, the sting of teeth scraping across flesh.

I arched my back, bared the pulse thrumming at the base of my throat, and fell gently backwards onto soft cushions.

I blinked. The world momentarily matching the vision. Bright colours; golds and reds, rich purples and deep greens. And then the darkness of Auckland City on a cloudy night closed in.

Alain loomed above me, his arms wrapped around my shoulders, his face a mixture of horror and awe.

“What was that?” he said in French. “Where were we?” he asked, still in his native tongue.

His eyes searched my face, one arm holding me tightly to his chest, the other brushing my hair aside as though he’d touched me like that a million times in the past. The familiarity went both ways. I didn’t pull back. I didn’t twist out of his grasp. I lay there and looked at him, a mirror image, I should think, of his emotions playing across my face.

“I…I don’t know,” I stammered.

“
A talent,” he said, now speaking in English. It wasn’t a question either. “A strong one. Dream Walking?” That last was asked as though to himself. I suddenly felt uncomfortable.

I pushed out of his hold, realising we’d been in the middle of the road leading out of Parnell. Dirt and bits of Goddess alone knows what clung to my leathers. I dusted them off and began walking, fast. As fast as I could from this place. From him. From my birthright and my destiny.

“You cannot outpace this,” Alain said at my side. Too perceptive by far.

“I can sure as hell try,” I offered.

“You are powerful,” he replied, as though this should calm me. It did anything but. “You have new talents that must be contained.”

“Why?” I snapped. “Why do you care?”

He gave a soft French snort in reply.

“I get the whole doing as my father bids thing,” I hissed. “But you are not simply a puppet, Dupont. You can’t be.” Was that a plea to him or myself?

He ignored my outburst. “What else has manifested?”

I shook my head, ground my teeth, and stormed heedlessly onto the wharves.

“Ellie,” Alain said, gaining some traction with the use of my nickname. “Please,” he added, making the fight drain out of me and my surroundings come into better focus.

People hunched around a barrel of fire off to the side of the rubble strewn road; homeless and desperate, quite willing to follow us with their eyes, trying to see if we had a weakness. Not all of them were Norms. I spotted a taniwha shifter and a ghoul, the flash of red eyes might have belonged to a vampire, the sound of a howl to something else.

I kicked up rubbish and rocks, scattering an empty tin can towards the onlookers. I offered a glare to follow up the threat. Some turned away, while others just watched more closely.

The wharves were on edge tonight.

“We should leave,” Alain said, whisper quiet. “Something is amiss,” he added.

I slowed my pace, one hand resting on the hilt of a stake. The other itching to draw my sword. Adrenaline made the tastebuds on my tongue burst to life; sounds became too loud; smells too potent.