Shades of Gray (37 page)

"Fight me all you wish, woman; you cannot escape me. I will take you here, now, and there is nothing you can do about it. Nothing Chiavari can do to save you." Wicked laughter bubbled up from his throat. "I know the power of those chains. He does not have the strength to remove them. Even now, the silver burns his flesh and weakens his powers. Only a vampyre who has lived as long as I could withstand them. And he is but a babe compared to me."

He gazed down at her, his eyes glowing with hatred. "He took Antoinette from me, and now I shall take you from him. I will defile you, here, in his presence, and then I shall destroy him. And when that is done, you will be mine for a hundred years. And he will know it. In whatever hell he finds himself, he will know it."

He bent her back over his arm and licked her face, laughing when she shuddered with revulsion.

"It is time to end the game."

Grabbing her by the hair, he forced her to her knees. "Disrobe."

"No."

"Do it!"

Marisa shook her head. She slid a glance at Grigori. His eyes were dark with hatred. She could see him trying to summon his power, knew he was trying to get past the pain, the loss of blood, trying to find the strength to free himself of the heavy silver that weighed him down.

You can do it! I know you can.
She tried to will him her strength, rocked back on her heels as Alexi slapped her across the face.

"Do it!"

She was reaching for the zipper when the bedroom door slammed open and Edward burst into the room. Mouth stained with blood, eyes wild, he hurled himself at Alexi, the stake in his hand aimed for the vampire's heart.

With a cry, Marisa jumped to her feet. Hurrying to the bed, she lifted the heavy chain from Grigori's chest, and thrust her arm in his face. "Hurry!"

He didn't argue. She felt the prick of his fangs, the oddly sensual flow of blood from her veins. He seemed to drink forever, yet it was only a handful of seconds, and then he put her from him and rose to his feet.

He was wholly vampire now. His eyes blazed with a pure red flame.

Marisa watched it all, too terrified to move.

Edward and Alexi were locked in a fierce embrace. The stake had missed Alexi's heart. He pulled it from his body with a savage cry and tossed it aside. Unmindful of the blood that spurted from his chest in a dark torrent, he flung Edward against the wall, held him there with one arm while he jerked Edward's head to the side and buried his fangs in his throat.

A strangled cry rose from Edward's lips as the vampire began to drink.

And then Grigori was there. Like an avenging angel, he pulled Alexi away from Edward. With a triumphant cry, Grigori snatched up the stake and drove it through Alexi's heart.

A horrible cry of anguish and rage rose in the vampire's throat. With a look of satisfaction, Grigori twisted the stake, driving it deeper, deeper. Alexi sank to his knees, his eyes growing dull. He tried to dislodge the stake, but he lacked the strength. A horrible hissing sound issued from his lips as he sank to the floor. His face turned a hideous shade of gray.

"Marisa, bring me the chain."

She stared at Grigori, one hand pressed to her mouth.

"Now, Marisa."

Unable to take her eyes from the horror before her, she picked up the chain.

"Drop it over him."

She did as she was told, though it seemed unnecessary. Alexi Kristov was truly dead this time.

"Marisa. Marisa!"

She blinked up at him, and then fell into his arms, sobbing. "Edward… what about Edward?" She looked over her shoulder at Edward, who lay sprawled on the floor, a gaping hole in his throat. "Is he…?"

"Not yet, but soon."

"We can't let him die. Please, Grigori, you've got to do something."

"He won't like it."

"Please! He saved our lives."

"Very well. But you will have to take the blame."

"I will. Please, hurry."

"As you wish,
cara."

He let her go, and then put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"Fine. I'll be fine."

Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her across the floor and placed her in the chair. Yanking the bedspread from the bed, he covered her with it. "Rest." He brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek. "You might want to close your eyes."

She nodded, but she didn't. Hands clutching the bedspread, she watched as Grigori knelt on the floor and drew Edward into his lap. With surprising gentleness, he turned Edward's head to the side. She saw Grigori take a deep breath, and then he bent down, his long black hair falling over Edward's face, blocking her view. Several long minutes passed. The ticking of the bedside clock seemed very loud in the stillness.

Once, she glanced at Alexi's body, half expecting it to vanish into thin air. She wished Grigori had thought to cover it.

A movement drew her eye back to Grigori. She pressed her knuckles to her mouth as Grigori bit his own wrist, and then placed the bleeding wound to Edward's lips.

"Drink, Ramsey." His voice was soft yet compelling, as soothing as a mother's lullaby. "That's right, drink your fill."

And Edward was drinking, his mouth fastened to Grigori's wrist, his hands clutching Grigori's arm as if he feared it would be suddenly snatched away. His eyes were open, his expression one of near-rapture.

Grigori turned his head, his gaze meeting Marisa's.

This is what I am, what I have always been.

And Marisa met his gaze, unflinching, accepting him, loving him, for who and what he was.

"Enough." Grigori jerked his arm from Edward's grasp, ran his tongue over the wound in his wrist.

Edward sat back, looking confused. "What happened?"

Marisa leaned forward in the chair. Color suffused Edward's cheeks; the horrible wound in his throat closed, healed, in a matter of minutes.

Edward glanced from Chiavari to Marisa. "What the hell happened?"

"How do you feel, Edward?" Marisa asked.

"I feel fine," he retorted. "I want to know what the…" His words trailed off when he caught sight of Alexi's body. "Is he dead?"

Marisa shrugged. "I hope so."

"He's dead," Grigori remarked. He regarded Ramsey through narrowed eyes. "How do you feel?"

"Why do you two keep asking me that? I feel" — he frowned — "I feel funny." He looked at Alexi again. "I stabbed him, and then he
— "

Edward lifted one hand to his throat. "He bit me. Ripped my jugular. I remember… what happened?"

"You were dying," Marisa said.

Ramsey stared at Grigori, a look of horror spreading over his face. "You didn't? For the love of all that's holy, tell me you didn't!"

"It was my idea," Marisa said. "He didn't want to."

"You told him to turn me into one of them? How could you?"

Marisa stood up, clutching the bedspread to her chest. "Would you rather be dead, Edward?"

He scrambled to his feet and backed away from them both. "Of course I would," he began, and then, shoulders slumping, he buried his face in his hands.

"Edward, I'm sorry."

Rising to his feet, Grigori went to stand beside Marisa. "Don't be sorry,
cara.
If he'd rather be dead, I'll be only too happy to accommodate him."

Edward's head snapped up. "Yeah, I'll just bet you would."

"It's your choice, vampyre hunter."

Edward snorted. "Not anymore. I guess you just put me out of business."

"Yes, I guess I did."

Edward lifted his hands, turned them this way and that. Crossing the floor, he stared into the mirror above the dresser. "I look the same," he murmured. "How can I look the same and feel so different?"

"You'll get used to it."

"I don't know what to say."

"You might thank Grigori," Marisa suggested, "for saving your life."

Edward turned around. "I was going to kill you, you know."

Grigori nodded. "I know you were going to try."

Edward gestured at Alexi's body. "What are we going to do with him?"

"I'll drag his body out onto the balcony. The sun will take care of the rest."

Edward shuddered, and then squared his shoulders. "Well, I guess I'll be going." He took a step toward Marisa, but then stopped, as if uncertain how she would receive him now.

Marisa held out a hand and smiled. "Keep in touch, Edward."

He took her hand in both of his and squeezed it. "I will. Good night, Marisa."

"Good night, Edward."

"Be careful, Ramsey."

Edward met Grigori's eyes, surprised by the genuine concern in the other man's voice. "You too. And… thanks."

Grigori nodded.

"Will he be okay?" Marisa asked when they were alone.

"That's up to him." He gave her shoulders a squeeze; then he dragged Kristov's body out onto the balcony, careful not to touch the chain coiled on his chest.

Marisa was sitting on the bed when he returned.

Grigori smiled at her. "Some honeymoon."

"Well, you can't say it hasn't been exciting."

"And are you still happy being Mrs. Chiavari?"

"I'd be happier if you were holding me." She slid off the bed and wrapped her arms around him. "Can we sleep in another room?"

With a nod, he pulled the blankets off the bed, swung her into his arms, and carried her down the hall into one of the other bedrooms.

Dumping the blankets on the bed, he sat down and cradled her in his arms.

"You are a most remarkable woman," he said.

"And you, husband, are a most remarkable man."

"I'm glad you still think so."

"I love you." She caressed his cheek. "Nothing will change that."

"Cara…"

"Do you think Edward will be happy being a vampire?"

"That's up to him. Life is what you make it,
cara,
whether you're a man or a vampyre."

"Are you happy?"

He nodded. Before Marisa, he had merely been content. He had accepted what he was, learned to live with it. He had made the most of the good things, and wasted little energy worrying over the drawbacks.

She cocked her head to one side, her eyes shining with love. "So, do you think I'd be happy as a vampire?"

"Marisa!"

"Do you?"

He stared at her, hardly daring to believe his ears. "You're not serious?"

She nodded. Until this moment, she hadn't realized how seriously she had been considering it, how desperately she wanted to share his life, all of it, how desperately she wanted him to share hers. There was only one way that could ever be possible. "Would you change me if I asked you to?"

"Only if you were certain it was what you wanted." He looked deep into her eyes. How many times had he dreamed of bestowing the Dark Gift on her? A hundred? A thousand? Yet he had never suggested it, certain she would refuse. "Is it what you want?"

"Yes, but not right away. I'd like to spend Easter with my family up at the cabin one more time, maybe go on vacation with Mom and Dad next summer, and spend one more Christmas with Mike and Barbara and the kids."

Grigori nodded. "There's no hurry,
cara.
We have all the time in the world."

"All the time in the world," she repeated softly. "I like the sound of that."

"Ah, Marisa, you'll never know how much you mean to me. I wish I had words enough to tell you."

She gazed up at him, her lips parting in a sensual smile as she slid her arms around his neck. "You could show me."

And it was his pleasure to do so, not only that night, but every night for centuries to come.