Forbidden (The Gabriel Lennox Series Book 1) (9 page)

MIKEL STRETCHED
AND YAWNED
in what must have been one of Gabriel’s bedrooms. Mikel. His new name. The name he chose for himself. Hard. Strong. The opposite of what he had been before.

Beside the bed, a boy with languid eyes dozed comfortably in a chair. Mikel reached out to touch him, to kiss his neck, to graze it with his tongue, his teeth—

But then, Gabriel walked in.

The boy rubbed his eyes and stood up to greet him with a formal bow.

Gabriel told him that he’d like some privacy, for him to leave the room. Without a word, the boy left.

“Good evening, Michel.”

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped.

Gabriel cocked an eyebrow. “But that’s your name isn’t it? Or are you just gnashing your teeth over what happened? It’s not my fault. It wasn’t my choice. If you have anyone that you want to blame or to hate, save that all for Lilith. Or Nathaniel. Or even God.” He stared intensely at him with his emerald eyes. The green sparkling color didn’t make Mikel feel uneasy but rather the jeweled hardness in Gabriel’s eyes. “But not me.”

“I don’t hate you,” he lied.

“Oh really?” Tilting his head to the side, Gabriel flashed a smile.

Mikel flinched at the bright, amorous expression. It was the exact way that he smiled at people whom he despised to the point of wanting them dead. The two-faced smile of a gentleman. He didn’t hesitate to think Gabriel’s grinning face possessed as much sincerity as a Nile crocodile. All teeth and no good intentions.

He forced a laugh. “Why should I hate you? You’ve given me what anyone would want. What every mortal has always wanted. To live forever.” He smiled back at Gabriel just as adoringly. “I should love you, Gabriel. I should love you with all of my heart.”

“Hmm, hmm. You’re entitled to believe what you want, Michel.” Gabriel paused, grinning sweetly again. “Oh, you did mention that I shouldn’t call you by your name—have you given yourself a new one? What is it?”

“Mikel. I like the sound of it. Michel flowed off the tongue like a song and a whisper. Mikel sounds like diamond cutting glass.”

“That’s a fitting name. It suits you. Tomorrow evening, we’re going to a party. I had Colin—the boy in the chair—order you a suit that brings out the color of your eyes. You’re probably wondering why I did something so trivial, but I have to make an appearance. Lilith will be there and others like us. They want a leader. And Lilith wants me as their Prince.” Gabriel sighed.

“What do you want from me?”

Gabriel replaced his sigh with a smile. “Do what I tell you, and we shall get along just fine.” He turned around and strode out of the room.

Mikel asked no further questions, settling in relief that there weren’t any answers that he had to provide. For the first evening, he merely wandered around, without purpose. He paused to look at himself in a mirror, smiling back at his reflection before he sat down and played a sonata on the piano.

But his thoughts were filled with questions: Why did Genevieve have to die? Whom did he owe allegiance to? To Gabriel, the one responsible for breaking him inside? Was he to bend the knee to Gabriel, whom
she
titled the Prince?

She. Lilith. She had been in his dreams.

Beautiful, terrible Lilith and her promises. She had large, black feathery wings, and when she folded them across her naked body, the feathers broke apart and became rose petals. The petals swirled around her, barely obscuring her nakedness as she sauntered toward him in a gliding walk. “Power,” she had said, “beyond your wildest dreams.” She stressed that he keep it secret.

He could keep secrets. He had one of his own: revenge.

Later that night, Nathaniel entered his room. Dressed in a loose white shirt and matching pants, he led a young peasant girl by the hand. Barely a woman. Mikel wondered if she had ever been kissed. She walked in toward him, baring her neck. Her eyes looked as empty as a doll’s.

He doubted that she had ever fallen in love, only to lose it, to feel like she was dying. She was too young for that.

Too young to die. But he was so thirsty.

Mikel stretched out his arms to her, biting into the soft flesh of her neck. She didn’t whimper, didn’t cry. She didn’t fight back, her arms hanging by her sides. She was under some kind of trance. Good. He drank and drank, draining her as Gabriel had done to him. Gabriel’s creamy white face, framed with wine-red hair, his lips stained with wine that wasn’t wine—the image flashed into his mind, and when Mikel closed his eyes trying to block Gabriel out, his lids burned. He released the girl, letting her fall to the ground—an empty husk drained of its essence. Mikel lapped up droplets of blood from the corners of his mouth.

Nathaniel sat beside him, looking like an angel. The devil had once been an angel.

Nathaniel hadn’t uttered a word while he had watched Mikel kill the girl.

He told himself to feel ashamed, but decided that doing so to be futile. Nathaniel had brought the girl to be his food, after all. Nathaniel’s face glowed with a strange light.

A prickly feeling filled the room and rushed across Mikel’s skin. He gasped as it washed over him. His eyes widened and overflowed with tears as if within his body stirred a bubbling fountain of water.

Power. That’s what it was—power. And Mikel wanted it.

Yet as soon as he thought about it, the sensation vanished.

Nathaniel smiled. “I have a story to tell you,” he said. “
Once upon a time
,” he began . . .

* * *

“A box arrived for you, Master Gabriel,” Colin announced the following evening.

Gabriel opened it and took out a beautifully made double-breasted frock coat with matching trousers the color of deep, rich chocolate. The coat had silk-faced lapels, a closed skirt front, and a luxurious velvet color.

“Master Gabriel, there’s a note. Would you like me to read it to you?”

“Just tell me who sent it.” He saw no use pretending he didn’t know. He held the frock coat against him in the mirror.

“It’s from Lilith. This is a Prince Albert coat, Master Gabriel. This Lady Lilith, she must be as rich as the blessed Queen to hand out gifts like this to you.”

Gabriel took out an immaculately white shirt to pair with the frock coat and told Colin to get ready. Then he excused himself and stepped into the bathroom to change. About five minutes later, he walked back out. Colin had left.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, Gabriel slipped into socks and patent leather shoes. The only reason he had spent the extra money on the expensive shoes was because the cobbler said they would last longer, which translated into his making fewer appearances to the store. He hated shopping. Hated crowds.

He brushed his hair until it flowed like water through the bristles. Finally, he inspected himself in the mirror.

Gabriel frowned.

He looked good.
Too good
. Leave it to Lilith to dress him like a Prince, her little errand boy.

THE PARTY
TOOK PLACE
at Sevien’s mansion, but in a different room. The night had an entirely different mood, too. At the previous event, the guests had been exclusively mortal. Well, with a few exceptions, of course.

Two young men stood on either side of the door. They were dressed in tight pants made from clingy material with crimson sashes around their narrow waists. Their upper bodies were muscular, defined, and shone like they had been lathered in oil. They could’ve been twins with their angular faces and dark brown eyes, but one had lighter hair than the other.

They both bowed at the waist. “I’m Christopher. It’s my pleasure, Lord Gabriel, to usher you into your celebration,” said the one with the blonde hair. “Lilith has not arrived yet, and she sends a request for forgiveness.”

Gabriel gave a nod of his head. He looked over his shoulder as Mikel lingered near the carriage. Colin still sat in the driver’s seat, and Nathaniel must’ve been giving him orders of where to leave the carriage. A trio of female Chosen slowed their walks into saunters as they strolled past Mikel. He seemed oblivious to their stares; his head tilted up to the moonless, cloudy sky.

“Come with me. My brother, Timothy, will usher your companions. Please, this way.”

From outside, the muffled hum of violins and the shy refrain of woodwinds rose higher as the blonde servant, Christopher, led him through the front door, down a hallway, which opened up into an enormous room below a staircase. Gabriel stood at the top of the winding staircase. Below, figures moved in slow formation, exchanging partners in a stately dance. They didn’t seem as though they were enjoying themselves, but were merely dancing because it was expected. The escort led Gabriel down the stairs and had him sit at the head of the long dining table in the center of the room.

“I’d prefer another seat. Somewhere less conspicuous.”

The servant bowed, smiling. “I’m sorry, Lord Gabriel.” He didn’t look sorry at all, though. “But you’re our Guest of Honor, the main event, so you must remain here where everyone can behold you.” He hurried off into the previous room to escort more guests. Gabriel frowned. The main event, indeed.

Mikel came in and sat down across from him looking as if he had swallowed something bitter.

“Is something troubling you?” Gabriel asked.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” he retorted, voice tight.

Gabriel held up a warning hand. “If it’s Genevieve’s death that you’re pining over, please stop. Brooding isn’t going to bring her back. You might as well accept your new life. And with all the attention you’ve received thus far, if I were you, the woman that hated me and shamed me would be the last thing on my mind.”

Mikel’s face flushed red. He leaned in over the table, his shimmering blue eyes narrowed. “You’re not me. And I’m not you. So don’t tell me what you would do.” He leaned back in his chair, glancing around him. At that instant, a couple of female Chosen passed by. One of them, dressed in red with long ginger hair, feathered her gloved hand over the nape of Mikel’s neck and across his shoulder before moving on. He let out a shuddering sigh, his flush deepening. He gazed at Gabriel helplessly, and the latter threw him a wry smile.

Mikel cast his eyes down and stared into his lap. He was newly made, fresh, like morning dew. But Gabriel knew that wasn’t the only reason the women wanted to touch him, to be touched by him.

A few moments later, Nathaniel entered with Colin clinging to his side.

The boy sat down in the empty seat beside Gabriel. “Master Gabriel.” His hazel eyes were wide. “I really wish I could’ve stayed home lookin’ after th’ mansion. I don’t like it here. I’ve heard of being stared at, but this is ridiculous!” That Cockney accent slipped in his voice again, which surfaced whenever Colin was excited, or in this case, afraid.

Nathaniel smiled at Gabriel. “You’ve forgotten what a delicacy a pretty mortal boy like Colin can be. You’re much too hard on him. And on us.”

“You don’t see me salivating at the mouth when I look at him, do you?”

“Will Lilith be here?” Mikel asked.

“Of course,” Nathaniel replied. “She’ll be here to help Gabriel in showing you off. But she always did have a talent for making late appearances.”

Gabriel glanced around and saw no sign of Lilith—yet. Or Sevien. Along the walls, some Chosen sat in chairs or reclined on chaise lounges, pretending not to look at him, but he sensed their eyes on him when he looked in another direction.

The room formed a perfect rectangle. The walls sparkled with decorative, oriental patterns that seemed to be merely painted on. Upon closer inspection, the paintings were clearly made of exquisitely cut and seamlessly fitted, precious gems: amethyst, amber, jet, turquoise, lapis lazuli, and others he could not make out.

The room had no other doors besides the one they had entered. No easy access to an exit.

Not good.

“Ah, Master Gabriel,” Colin gushed, his head thrown back and pointing up with one hand. “Look, the ceiling!”

Gabriel looked above at the mirrored ceiling, within its center, a crystal chandelier. In the mirrored ceiling, Chosen mingled in a seemingly human way as they drank liquid darker than wine, danced to the waltz, and laughed or talked in low voices. Long life didn’t cast out frivolity, and Gabriel didn’t think that immortality could either.

Once in a while, as he watched them in this “aerial view,” another Chosen would meet his gaze in the mirror and smile more often than sneer. They didn’t know him, but based on his appearance they were already making judgments.

Each and every Chosen appeared somehow beautiful in his or her own way. Possibly, some kind of illusion or some kind of magic, like the glamour fairies used could be responsible. (Damn Colin and his silly beliefs.) Nathaniel said that beauty may only be skin deep, but who wanted to behold ugliness for eternity? Gabriel used to think the statement stupid and shallow, but he considered the persuasive power that beauty possessed. His own beauty, he realized, proved quite useful.

Christopher returned and placed a silver tray of hors d’oeuvres in front of Colin. “Food for your mortal companion, Lord Gabriel.”

Colin stretched out his hand to take one of the pickled sandwiches, but stopped short, looking at Gabriel from the corner of his eye. “May I, Master Gabriel?”

“Go ahead. Enjoy yourself.”

“Well, what’re
you
going to eat then?”

Gabriel glared at him. “You still don’t understand, do you?” He leaned back in his chair. “Bringing you here certainly wasn’t one of Nathaniel’s brightest ideas.”

Colin stuffed the sandwich into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “What’s there to worry about? You’ll protect me, won’t you?”

Gabriel leaned back in his chair. “Naturally.”

“If you’ll excuse me, Gabriel, but I’d like to dance.” Mikel rose from his seat, gave a formal bow, and stalked off toward the crowd. He approached the ginger-haired Chosen.

Gabriel couldn’t see Mikel’s expression, but the woman’s face glowed with an amused grin. After a few more shared smiles, she accepted his invitation to dance, and he took her by the hand, sweeping her off in the majestic whirl of music. Mikel moved with a grace that had become more pronounced since his Enlightenment. Eventually, the two settled down to an elegant medium-paced waltz. After one song, Gabriel lost them in the crowd and began counting the number of Chosen in the room. Seventy.

“Am I the only one that smells a human?” Someone asked near the only door.

Everyone stopped chatting and looked at the speaker, including Gabriel. A tall man dressed in black with a nose straight from a Roman mural, skin white as snow, and deep-set tawny eyes, stood in the doorway. “Yes, I definitely smell the blood of a human.”

Fee-fi-foe-fum
, Gabriel thought sarcastically. He smiled to himself, but when he glanced at Colin feathering the crumbs of the meal off the plate with his fingers, the smile faded away. Gabriel looked at the Chosen, no longer standing in the doorway, but gliding toward his side of the dining room.

“Naturally, you should smell human blood, Jules. Isn’t that what’s on the menu?” Laughter filled the room. Sitting several feet away, a young white-haired Chosen had spoken. In one hand, he clutched the long stem of a wine glass filled with what looked like wine. At first glance, Gabriel mistook him for Sevien, but the vampire’s long white hair lacked any hints of silver. Relieved, Gabriel relaxed, glad for Sevien’s absence. He tossed his white hair over one shoulder and sipped from his glass. He grimaced, his lips stained with red. No, definitely not wine. His face, as oval and white as an egg, broke into a disarming smile. “But fresh blood is always better.” Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. Whatever relief Gabriel had claimed just died.

Jules looked annoyed. “Yes, that’s true, but this one smells like he’s recently tasted some of
our
blood.”

A gasp or two rose up this time. The music ceased.

Damn it. Gabriel glanced at Nathaniel, who didn’t try to hide the utter joy plastered all over his face.

His pale blue eyes had brightened with interest at the unfolding events. He looked at Gabriel and widened his eyes and whispered in his mind, “
Did you? With Colin? Why you naughty boy
.”

Gabriel looked at Colin who seemed totally unaware and wished that he hadn’t let his curiosity get the better of him.

Jules sniffed the air with his Roman nose. “I think I’ve found him,” he said, stopping at Colin. He bent over until his nose stopped inches from Colin’s. “Tell me, human, how is it that you smell of ambrosia blood?”

“Leave him alone,” Gabriel said. Now that Jules had gotten between them, he couldn’t see Colin any longer. He hoped that Colin wouldn’t make any sudden moves—like smiling or blinking. He didn’t want this Jules to have any excuses, no matter how petty, to lay a finger on him. Or in this case, to stick a fang in him.

Straightening himself, Jules turned around to scowl at Gabriel. “I do what I want. How
dare
you speak to me like that.”

Someone let out a snicker. “You should learn your place, Jules, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Let him run his mouth!” someone else shouted. “That’ll teach him to be so hot-headed.”

Jules’s light-brown eyes scanned the room at the various faces before finally settling on Gabriel’s. “You’re not
he
. Are you?”

Leaning back in his chair, Gabriel glared at him. “He who?” He knew perfectly well whom Jules spoke of, but preferred toying with him. Peacocks sometimes needed to be prodded before being plucked of their feathers.

The white-haired Chosen moved toward Gabriel and bowed. “If it pleases you, Lord Gabriel, Jules didn’t mean any harm. Upon my word, please don’t take what he said seriously.”

Gabriel glared at Jules for a moment longer, satisfied when he saw his jaw drop in shock before turning his attention to the white-haired Chosen. “And you are?”

“Alexander Talbot. I was Enlightened by Faron, the Fair One.”

The Fair One? In the fashion of gods and kings, they sometimes gave themselves titles named after trivial things like flowers and stars. Some were more creative and chose names that told something about their appearance or temperament. In this case, Faron was most likely either very beautiful or very pale, and didn’t have enough creativity to come up with a unique name. Alexander’s eyes were a pale, beautiful violet, and Gabriel wondered whether he had given himself a name like Hyacinth.

“I think I can muster up some mercy if Jules apologizes,” he said.

Jules scowled. “Why should I? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You tried insulting me with your comments to my mortal servant, and your tardiness reflects how you feel about my existence. So an apology is in order.”

“It’s not fair. I shouldn’t have to. You’re not the Prince yet. You have no reason to be. You’ve only Enlightened one so far, while many of us have done ten times that!”

Gabriel had an aching desire to show Jules his place by brute force. He figured that a sound beating would shut him up. Before he could raise his hand to strike him, Jules rose into the air. The startled look on his face told Gabriel that Jules’ ascension was involuntary.

He continued to be lifted, by an unseen force, until he lingered just a few inches from the mirrored ceiling, and then he was slammed again and again into the adjoining walls like an unwanted toy. Amethyst and jasper gems chipped off with remarkable force, zipping through the air like bullets through the room. Raising his chin, Gabriel stared with more pleasure than surprise as an invisible power continued to fling Jules about for what felt like an hour, but somehow it didn’t seem long enough. The tossing stopped in midair, and Jules was slowly lowered to the ground before Gabriel’s feet.

“Rise, Jules.” The voice sounded beautiful and terrible as thunder and lightning.

Gabriel turned to see Lilith standing a few feet behind him, dressed in a similar style to Christopher and Timothy, and practically nude except for a beaded skirt with wide slits up the sides of her long, shapely legs. The apples of her full breasts were adorned with gems. With each step, her dark brown skin sparkled with a patina of gold dust, and diamonds shimmered in her earlobes. Her long black hair hung loose past her thighs, rippling like a river. As she sauntered past Gabriel, looking like Aphrodite, a goddess of sensuality, a ruby set in her navel and another centered in the middle of her forehead, glimmering in the light. She rolled her hips and walked on the balls of her bare feet toward Jules, who scuttled backward like a crab away from her, his black-and-white frock coat torn and stained with blood. He moaned as he lurched to his feet, and blood poured from his mouth and neck. He begged her not to hurt him.

Lilith placed her hands coquettishly on her knees and leaned forward. “
Julessss
, apologize now,” she said in a sickly sweet voice, as if reprimanding a child, “or it shall be more than a few minor cuts and wounded pride that you shall be dealing with.”