The Dark Vampire: Last True Vampire 3 (4 page)

Thank the gods.

Darkness penetrated the periphery of Bria’s vision as her heart stuttered in her chest. So close. So near that dark abyss that called to her. Her mouth went dry and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her senseless hand flopped out and she managed to grip the queen’s arm. They had to let her die. “P-please . . .” The word died on her tongue and a soft smile curved her lips as she toppled over the ledge and into infinite darkness.

Death was painless. The fire that raced through Bria’s veins was anything but. A scream ripped from her throat as she thrashed against the sensation that she was burning from the inside out. What was happening to her?

“Try to stay calm, Bria. You’re almost past the worst of it.”

How long had she been in this state? The voice that spoke low next to her ear belonged to Mikhail, the vampire king. She remembered the commanding timbre and she stilled as the memories of what had happened came rushing back to her.

The queen. Her mandate that the king help them. It couldn’t be possible, could it?

Memories swirled in Bria’s mind, visions of lives that had been snuffed out centuries ago. Dhampirs in her coven whispered about the legends of a collective vampire memory. She’d always thought it was a myth. . . .

Scents reached her nostrils in an assault that overloaded her senses. The artificial light of the bulb beside the bed nearly blinded her and a riot of color swirled in her vision. Strength unlike anything she’d ever known surged within her and Bria choked as she tried to suck in a sharp breath. Her lungs refused to inflate with air and the sound of her own heartbeat was now absent from her chest.

As was any sense of herself. An empty, fathomless chasm opened up inside of Bria and she clutched at her chest as though she could somehow fill the void.
Gods.
The vampire king had turned her!

Not her soullessness, the assault on her senses, or her past isolation and loneliness troubled Bria in the wake of her transition and newfound strength. It was more than she could have ever imagined. Ever
hoped
for. Surely now her uncle wouldn’t keep her shut inside the compound. Not when she was so strong. So utterly capable of taking care of herself. She hadn’t found freedom through death. Instead, she’d been freed in her rebirth.

“She’ll need to feed soon.” A male whom she didn’t recognize spoke. The timbre of his voice was deep and rich and sent a pleasant shiver over Bria’s skin. Maybe
they’d let her feed from him. He sounded good enough to eat.

“It’s taken care of.” Her uncle spoke, but his voice sounded different to Bria’s heightened senses. “I’ve called in a member of my coven.”

“Good idea,” the male said. “She might go easier on someone she knows.”

Were they worried about her? Surely she could feed without killing someone. Fire raged hot in her throat and Bria reconsidered her control. Her fangs throbbed in her gums and she was possessed with a need to sink them deep into yielding flesh and glut herself on blood.

“Bria? Can you hear me?”

“Claire, for the love of the gods, would you please stay clear of her fangs? There’s no telling what she’ll do in the grip of bloodlust.”

“Pfft. You worry too much, Mikhail.” A smile curved Bria’s lips. She liked this female. “Bria? Listen up; let’s show these boys that they have nothing to worry about. Whaddya say?”

When Bria turned on the mattress to face Claire, she was greeted by a feral gold stare that would have stalled the breath in her chest had she any to fill her lungs.

“Claire?” Bria asked.

“Yup. You got it. Now, do you know what’s happened to you?”

The events of how she’d gotten there were hazy. Bria remembered that she’d wanted to die. That her life balanced on a razor’s edge. “I’ve been turned.” Even her own voice sounded strange in her ears. It distracted her thoughts and would take some getting used to.

“That’s right. How are you feeling?”

“I think I’m all right.” The words rasped in her too-dry throat. “The thirst . . .”

“We’re going to take care of that,” Claire replied. Her
gaze slid to the vampire king. “Think you can hold on and not bite anyone until your dinner shows up?”

Bria smiled at Claire’s teasing tone. “I can.”

“Told ya,” Claire said to Mikhail.

Bria searched the room for her uncle and found him tucked away in a far corner, watching her with a wary gaze. The fear that glistened in his dark blue eyes twisted her heart. Did it matter that she was no longer a dhampir? She was still his niece. Still the only blood relation he had left. That hadn’t changed. And now that she was stronger, she could protect them both. There would be no need to hide and cower in their coven. Surely he knew that?

A soft knock came at the door and the male whom Bria didn’t recognize crossed the room. “Looks like you don’t have to wait,” he replied as the door swung wide. “Dinner’s here.”

Claire snickered and Mikhail pinched the bridge of his nose as though he’d had his fill of the both of them. Bria had heard rumors of Mikhail Aristov’s temper. That he was withdrawn and prone to violence. Cold and unwilling to lower himself to interact with lowly dhampirs. She had no doubt that he was severe and that his very presence intimidated. But he’d saved her life. Given her the gift of his bite. There was nothing heartless about the vampire king.

“Bria?”

She shot an accusing glare in her uncle’s direction and he averted his gaze. He could have asked anyone else to come, but instead he’d summoned Lucas. This was not the time for a power play. Lucas was a formidable warrior and strong in his own right. But in their present company the male would be as helpless as a newborn babe.

“Whoa there, buddy. Slow your roll.”

The fair-haired vampire placed a sturdy palm on Lucas’s chest to stay his progress. A low growl rumbled
in his throat and Bria sensed the impending violence as the tiny hairs pricked on her arms. Her uncle remained in his corner of the room, eager enough to have orchestrated this disaster and yet unwilling to do anything about it.

“If you have a care for your life, dhampir, you will be mindful of your behavior in the presence of your king.”

Claire rolled her eyes, the only one in the room who seemed unfazed. “There’s way too much testosterone in this room. Ronan, take a hike. Mikhail, behave yourself or I’ll bounce you, too.”

The handsome vampire called Ronan flashed an amused smile. “You’re the boss, Claire. Holler if you need me, Mikhail.” He gave Lucas a hearty smack on the back before he exited the room.

“Not much better,” Claire groused. “All right, Bria. Obviously, your friend has been brought here to feed you. It’s tricky the first couple of times. Tough to control all of that strength when you’re in the grips of burning thirst, know what I mean?”

Bria nodded. Already the scent of Lucas’s blood drove her crazy. So much so, she’d begun to doubt her ability to control herself.

“Mikhail and I are here to make sure that you don’t go all bloodlust crazy on your friend. This isn’t something to be taken lightly, Bria. You have to be gentle. Careful. Mikhail won’t have it any other way.”

Her gaze wandered to the king, who looked at his mate with love and respect. No matter what the others thought, Mikhail Aristov had to care for his people. All of them. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have cared how Bria fed from Lucas, who was nothing more than a stranger to him.

“I understand,” she replied through the fire in her throat.

“Good. Then I think we’re ready to roll, don’t you?”

Gods, yes.
Bria needed blood in the way that she used
to need air to breathe. As Lucas stepped toward Bria, Claire took several tentative steps back, tucking herself close to Mikhail’s side. For the first time Bria noticed the swell of the other female’s belly. The queen was pregnant. No wonder Mikhail had been so fiercely protective of his mate. It was a wonder that he’d allowed so many unknown dhampirs into his home at all. They were all lucky to be alive.

Lucas took a seat next to Bria on the bed. His blue eyes shone with wonder and not a little fear as he caught a strand of her hair between his thumb and finger. Bria sensed that had her soul still been intact she would have been filled with a resounding sadness. Lucas had been her closest friend since childhood. It had become obvious over the past few years that he’d wanted more than a friendship with her. But the continued absence of her soul only proved that Lucas was not meant for her or she for him. She’d learned enough about vampire-kind to know that only her true mate could return her soul to her. She and Lucas were not a tethered pair.

She wasn’t sad, though. She wasn’t anything, really. Her single-minded thought was focused on the vein that pulsed at his throat and how badly she wanted to sink her fangs into his flesh. It was forbidden, though. The first rule of their coven: Never take blood from the throat. Bria wanted to, though. Gods, she could think of little else. She wanted to feel ashamed for that wantonness, but there was only her need and gnawing thirst. Instead, she focused on Lucas’s wrist and took it in her grip.

“You’re stronger than he is, Bria. He might look unbreakable, but you could easily kill him.” She noted the warning in the king’s tone and gave a sharp nod of her head. She couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t force herself to speak when all she wanted was to drink. “Be gentle. And be mindful not to take too much. Do you understand me?”

Again, she nodded. The knowledge that she could easily kill her uncle’s most formidable warrior filled Bria with a sense of euphoria. The power she now possessed rushed through her, as heady as any drug. But she knew that if she disobeyed the king’s command her punishment would be severe and she had no intention of disrespecting his generous gift by accidentally killing her oldest and closest friend.

Bria wasn’t senseless. She could exercise self-control. But as her fangs broke the flesh of Lucas’s wrist and his warm blood flowed over her tongue she doubted everything. Most of all, her ability to stop.

Jenner leaned against the heavy oak door as he closed it behind him. Against his better judgment, he’d left Siobhan’s lair only to prowl the streets for a willing vein. Willing veins became willing flesh, and before Jenner had decided to come up for air three nights had passed. Three fucking nights without returning to Mikhail’s. Without at least checking in. The past seventy-two hours were a blur of blood and sex that barely registered in the recess of Jenner’s mind. He’d behaved like an addict on a bender. Worse. An
animal.

After he checked in with Mikhail—and took the ass chewing he was likely to receive—he’d need to get ahold of Ronan. Tonight was supposed to be Jenner’s first night of playing bodyguard to Thomas Fairchild’s special snowflake of a niece. Jenner cupped the back of his neck as he tried to rub some of the tension away. The last thing he wanted to do was follow a spoiled, entitled little brat around the city while simultaneously taking care of business for his king.
The things I do for money . . .

The ground level of Mikhail’s mansion was abandoned, and Jenner let out a sigh. He climbed the staircase slowly, hopeful that his king wouldn’t go too hard on him for
going AWOL yet again. With slayers running rampant throughout the city it was still dangerous for a vampire to be caught alone and defenseless. Jenner needed to get a fucking grip on his lusts before Mikhail bypassed the slayers altogether and put him down for good. He was wild. The very monster he’d hoped never to become. It wouldn’t be long before he became rabid and out of control, too. His king would have no choice but to run a stake through his heart.

Jenner’s step faltered on the stairs and he gripped the banister for support as a delicious aroma hit his nostrils. It awakened his bloodlust with a ferocity he’d never known, and the fear of this new, desperate want shook him to his core. Jenner thought he’d experienced lust, but the primal need that rose up in him now paled in comparison.

Three stairs at a time, he raced up to the second-floor landing in search of the tantalizing scent. His secondary fangs punched down, throbbing in his gums, and his cock hardened to stone in his jeans. He clamped his jaw shut, puncturing his lower lip from the force. Blood welled in the seam of his lips and Jenner licked it away as a low, feral growl built in his chest. He’d gone mindless with need, wild with it. As though he had no control over his own body, he followed the path of the scent that called to him, pausing for the barest moment in front of one of the guest bedrooms before throwing open the door.

Mine.

Seated in a wing chair in the corner of the room, her legs tucked beneath her, she started as the door bounced off the wall from the force of Jenner’s entry, nearly dropping the book she cradled in her hands. Her eyes glittered like amethysts, fringed by dark lashes. Raven hair framed her face, the silky tendrils curling softly to caress her shoulders. Twin sets of fangs scraped the full swell of her
bottom lip, coaxing the blood to just below the surface of her skin.

A vampire.
Who was she? Who had turned her?

The deep flush on her skin only served to further awaken Jenner’s thirst and his gut clenched painfully as he took a step forward only to crash to one knee. Her scent enveloped him, and power that rivaled taking blood from the vein surged through him. The dark, empty chasm inside of him filled to bursting and Jenner dragged in a ragged gulp of breath as his soul slammed into the center of his being like trees bending to the will of a gale-force wind.

Gods.
This female had
tethered him.

A roar built in Jenner’s chest, and the female stared at him, wide-eyed. She’d fed recently; the sound of her heart thundered in his ears and her chest rose and fell with her quickened breath. The roar quickly transformed into a snarl. He’d tear the throat from any vampire or dhampir who’d dared to offer her a vein.

She belonged to
him
.

“You’re . . .” The word died on her tongue, but gods, the sound of her voice was a lick of heat down his spine.

He had to have her. To take her vein. Glut himself on the sweet blood that called to him while he pounded into her tight heat. Jenner’s thoughts clouded as a desperate growl built in his chest. “Mine.” He’d become a mindless animal without reason. A creature of raw lust and tangled want. Reason was impossible with her so close, her scent filling his nostrils and the sight of her so delicate and yet fierce, a temptation he couldn’t resist.