Blood Awakening (10 page)

Over time, it had become a significant rite of
passage: Upon a male’s twenty-first birthday, the Dark One would hunt alone for
the first time ever, consuming as much blood as he possibly could, and then he
would return to feed
all
of his brothers, including his father. Although
none was allowed to drain the male dry in blood lust, each feeder was required
to take his full measure—the normal amount he would consume if feeding alone. If
the male had not hunted enough, killed enough, or fed enough, he would come
close to death in the process and be shunned by his brothers, who would be
forced to save him. However, if the male fed them all—without weakening or flinching—he
was officially inducted into the house of Jaegar.

As the second born of the last set of twins, Zarek
Nistor had been feeding both Valentine and Salvatore for the past eight-hundred,
seventy-nine years, so the process was as routine as sleeping or walking.

Zarek stopped just short of touching his brother,
chest-to-chest, their eyes locked in an inevitable gaze of predator and prey,
neither one blinking or turning away. Satisfied, Salvatore nodded, and Zarek spun
around, presenting his back to his respected elder while kneeling down on one
knee.

Salvatore crouched down slowly, his hands going to
each of Zarek’s shoulders. His dagger-like fangs elongated to their full
length, and a slow, sultry hiss escaped his lips. With a gentle hand, he
brushed Zarek’s hair out of the way and tilted his head to the side until it sat
at an angle he liked. The moment he released him, Zarek held the position, his
muscles completely relaxed—his heart-rate never increasing.

And then Salvatore struck. The bite was clean and
hard, inflicting the kind of pain that would honor a warrior. Zarek’s muscular body
began to convulse for about fifteen seconds as Salvatore took his first deep
pulls of the rich, heady substance, and then he went limp, falling back against
Salvatore’s chest.

Salvatore’s hands remained on Zarek’s shoulders,
yet for some reason, the act was unusually pleasurable this time: perhaps
because Salvatore needed so desperately to feel the presence of his one
remaining brother so close—
and safe
—in such a dangerous time. Whatever
the reason, a deep moan of ecstasy escaped his lips, and his hands tightened on
Zarek’s shoulders.

Salvatore felt Zarek’s body instantly stiffen, and
he knew it wasn’t just his chest, arms, and legs that were turning hard in
response to his deep groans of pleasure: No matter how one turned it, feeding
was a highly erotic act for a vampire—as was the pleasure of being struck by a piercing
set of fangs—and arousal was a natural, physiological response.

Sexual orientation had absolutely nothing to do
with it.

However aroused a vampire became during the
process of feeding, the males in the house of Jaegar
never
acted on
their sexual impulses with each other. While it wasn’t unheard of for one or
the other to climax during the ritual—sometimes both, and sometimes more than
once—the release was understood. And accepted. And never,
ever
mentioned.

Because of the Blood Curse, the innate need for a
male to reproduce with a female in order to provide the required blood
sacrifice—
to live and remain immortal—
heterosexuality was deeply
ingrained in the Vampyr DNA. The drive to reproduce was overwhelming and
irresistible. Yet over time, feeding had become an altogether different erotic need.
It was the pinnacle of uninhibited ecstasy, sexual or otherwise, the one time
when males were allowed to simply let their bodies fully enjoy the exchange of
blood.

Salvatore held back his release, although it was
difficult: The blood Zarek had recently consumed was especially sweet, and it
lit him up like a fire burning from the inside out. Reluctantly, he released
the seal he had made over his baby brother’s vein and slowly removed his fangs.

The moment Zarek stirred, Salvatore knew precisely
where he was going next: to the Chamber of Cobras. To the one place where he
could take pleasure in as many venomous bites as he desired, invite as many
strikes to his body as he craved.

Release his pent-up sex in private.

Or maybe not
.

As Zarek rose from the floor, sporting the same
proud gait in his retreat, the male turned directly toward Derrian’s crib—and his
new nanny.

Susan
.

Oh, shit!
Salvatore swore to himself.
Now
that was an inexcusable oversight.

Salvatore rubbed his eyes. His grief over
Valentine was worse than he thought: He was missing things he would have never
missed before. Females didn’t stay alive very long around the sons of Jaegar, not
unless they were sired vamps who had willingly relinquished their souls for the
promise of immortality. And even then, the moment they became pregnant, the
relationship was over. Well, technically, forty-eight hours after they became
pregnant, but why split hairs?

Thinking he could feed from Zarek in the presence
of a female
and still keep her alive afterward
was...well, unworthy of
an ancient. Salvatore shook his head in frustration, but he made no attempt to
stop his younger brother. It wasn’t worth the battle. Rather, he simply sat
down on the bed and prepared to watch. No doubt, Zarek’s performance would be
better than the movie of the week.

The sexed-up vampire stalked toward the human female like an African lion approaching
a zebra. He snatched her up from the bench by the waiste and threw her face-first
into the stone wall, securing her there with a callous forearm across her back.

The nanny wailed a blood-curdling scream and
turned her head toward the bed, her eyes desperately pleading with Salvatore—for
what, he had no idea. If anything, her terror only aroused Zarek more—which
meant, at this point, trying to remove the female from Zarek’s grasp would be
like trying to wrench a piece of meat out of the mouth of a pit bull. Not
something an intelligent being did.

As she begged and pleaded—reminded Zarek of his
nephew’s need for a nanny—the vampire ripped her tattered clothes from her body
in one harsh movement and shredded them to pieces with his talons, watching as
they curiously drifted to the ground like snow.

The female was practically hyperventilating.

Damn, could that girl scream or what?

And struggle.

Oh, bad move!

In desperation, the nanny tried to head-butt Zarek,
cracking the tip of his nose with the base of her skull. Salvatore winced
before laughing.

Zarek growled in anger...and ecstasy...at the
female’s unexpected assault, and then he fisted her hair, jerked her neck back,
and sank his fangs so deep into her jugular that Salvatore heard his fangs scrape
against her bones.

Salvatore grimaced as an unnatural howl of pain
echoed through the lair, and the female’s body began to convulse, making her a
rather difficult target to nail. With a guttural snarl, Zarek wrenched her hips
away from the wall, kicked her jerking legs apart, and speared her so hard with
his shaft that the air left her body.

And then he groaned...as his eyes rolled back in
his head.

Salvatore was positively enthralled, watching
Zarek ride the nanny with such brutal force and primal desperation, drowning
out her pain-filled cries with his own raspy groans of pleasure, turning her heart-wrenching
pleas into metrical grunts, and clamping down even harder on her neck as he pounded
her body against the wall with violent thrusts.

Salvatore had to give credit where credit was due.

Zarek had quite the rhythm.

His powerful, muscular physique was truly
something to behold as it drove in and out of the female, going deeper and
deeper with each plunge. And considering all of the grief they had been dealing
with lately, Zarek certainly deserved the distraction.

Salvatore lay back on the bed, turning away from
the side-show long enough to consider the blood war Valentine had started with
the Silivasis. He had barely begun to replay the events when he heard a hoarse
shout, and the floor shook beneath him. When he looked up, Zarek was moaning
against the female’s neck and—damn it all to Hades—releasing every bit of the
powerful orgasm into the worthless nanny’s body.

For the love of the Dark Lords.

“You really want kids right now, my brother?” he
barked across the room.

Zarek rested his head on Susan’s back, panting, while
holding her up with one arm. He slowly withdrew from her body. “What?” he groaned.
He was clearly still feeling the effects of the orgasm.

Salvatore cleared his throat. “
A son
? Now? Is
that what you want?”

Zarek met his brother’s gaze, and his body shook
one last time. “Not really.” He moaned and closed his eyes. “Although I have to
admit, it would be nice to be safe from the Blood Curse once and for all.” He
slowly exhaled, and when he opened his eyes again, they were glossed over.

Salvatore shrugged his shoulders. The Blood Curse
was hardly something to worry about, not for the sons of Jaegar, anyway. For
the sons of Jadon?
Yes
. They had to find—and keep—one woman over an
entire lifetime, and the mating had to be accomplished in a single moon, or
they were doomed. But the sons of Jaegar could use any female to reproduce, and
it didn’t matter one lick whether or not she wanted what was about to happen to
her. Time was of no consequence. As long as an immediate sacrifice was made
from the male’s first set of twins, it was acceptable. For the Dark Ones, fulfilling
the demands of the Blood Curse was as easy as counting to three.

As if Zarek had read his mind, he grunted, “You’re
right. It is enough that we have Derrian to take care of right now.” He glanced
toward his nephew’s crib. “It’s important that we give him the same attention Valentine”—he
swallowed hard—“
would have
given him.”

With that said, Zarek turned to Susan, kissed her thoroughly
on the mouth, then placed one hand on top of her head, the other on her chin, and
twisted in opposite directions. There was a quick snap before her lifeless body
slumped to the ground. As he zipped up his pants, he sighed. “You know,
brother, I think I love that kid like he’s my own.”

Salvatore smiled. “As do I, Zarek.” He frowned
then. “However, I am sorry for your grief. I do know how hard this is, but I
give you my word: Even if it takes an eternity, Valentine will be avenged.”

Zarek nodded. “Be well, my brother.”

Salvatore watched as Zarek sauntered out the door.

All in all, he was such a good kid.

“Be well, Zarek.”

Nachari pulled his vintage Calypso Coral 1970 Ford
Mustang—
which was in mint condition
—into the parking lot of Kagen’s
clinic and slowly turned off the roaring engine. Ciopori had absolutely no idea
what all those words meant, but Nachari had mentioned them several times on the
way to the clinic. Apparently, he liked to collect the Ford Mustang automobiles
and was extremely passionate about all the special features of the machines as
well. Especially the mint condition.

“Stay put,” he said, exiting the driver’s side
door.

Ciopori cocked her eyebrows. “Pardon me?”

Nachari smiled then—that breathtaking smile he
undoubtedly used to charm females of the human race into letting him feed. “Sorry.
Please, don’t go anywhere. Remember, you agreed—I have to clear it with Marquis
first.”

Ciopori took a deep breath and nodded. Her chest
felt like the weight of the entire world was sitting upon it. She had given the
wizard her word, and she never broke it. “I will wait, but you must convey how
desperately I need to see him.”

 “Of course.” Nachari held up the keys and pointed
to the dark panel he called a dashboard. “Would you like the radio?”

“The what?”

Nachari shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll be right
back.”

Marquis stood in the back of treatment room number three, watching as Kagen
meticulously attended to Kristina’s wounds. His mind was still in a fog when he
heard a gentle knock on the door.

“What is it?” Kagen sounded irritated. “I’ve told
the staff a dozen times not to interrupt me when I’m with a patient.”

The door slowly opened, and Nachari stuck his head
around the corner.

“Brother,” Kagen greeted, his concentration
remaining on Kristina.

“Greetings, Kagen,” Nachari responded, and then he
turned to Marquis. “May I have a word with you?”

Marquis blinked several times as if coming out of
a trance and snorted. “We’re busy right now, Nachari.” He had no intention of
answering his baby brother’s inquiries about what had happened.

Nachari immediately switched to telepathic
communication:
I realize that, Marquis, but there’s someone with me who
desperately needs to see you.

Marquis eyed the doorway.
Who?

She’s in the car,
Nachari explained.

She?

Yes…Princess Ciopori. She insisted, Marquis,
and frankly, if you don’t agree to see her, I think she might just have the
nerve to walk right into this room—even with Kristina sitting right over there.
Nachari glanced at Kristina for the first time, and her responding blush
revealed more than a little
appreciation
for the wizard’s beauty.

Marquis looked back and forth between the two. Unlike
Ciopori, Kristina didn’t have the grace to hide her reaction: She saw a stunning
male, and she looked momentarily stunned. How many times had she seen Nachari
before? Hundreds?

Marquis cleared his throat, and Nachari lowered
his eyes respectfully. “Greetings, sister,” he said, as was proper in
addressing one’s brother’s
destiny
.

Kristina blanched and quickly looked away, not
bothering to respond.

She’s taking this well, I see,
Nachari
commented.

Kagen looked up at him then.
Why don’t you
bring the princess around back to the patio, just outside of my office; my door
is unlocked, so Marquis can meet her there.
He looked up at Marquis.
Take
as long as you need; I’ll make sure Kristina doesn’t go anywhere.

Marquis hesitated, while both of his brothers
stared, waiting for a response. He turned to Kristina, more out of courtesy
than need: “I’ll be back.”

She jolted at the sound of his voice but never
looked up.

Nachari let out a low whistle as he held the door
for Marquis, clearly realizing how bad things really were. As soon as the door
closed behind them, he whispered, “Wow, you two have quite a ways to go.”

Marquis shot his youngest brother a heated glare
that would have melted ice, and Nachari quickly dropped the subject.

 “Bring her up the outside steps to the second-floor
deck. I’ll cut through Kagen’s office and meet you there.” Marquis ran his
hands through his hair, feeling suddenly weary.

Nachari frowned. “Uh…yeah, I think we already
established where—”  His voice abruptly cut off. “No problem.” He headed out
the clinic front doors, and Marquis dropped his head in his hands.

He was not prepared for this. For any of it. Seeing
the princess right now was the last thing he really wanted...because he wasn’t
at all sure he could go back to Kristina afterward. Maybe death was preferable.
He wondered: Could he exchange a lifetime with someone he didn’t love for thirty-days
with someone he did? Could he refuse the demands of the Blood Curse and spend
his last remaining days with Ciopori instead? He sighed, headed up the stairs,
and then shot through Kagen’s office to the deck, where he waited for Nachari to
bring the princess.

The moment Ciopori came into view, his heart
skipped a beat, and he had to steady himself with the railing.
Don’t get
caught up,
he warned himself, knowing it was already too late.

Nachari gracefully averted his eyes and shimmered
out of view, leaving the two alone to talk. As soon as he was gone, Ciopori
melted into a pool of tears.

Marquis held out his arms, struggling for breath. “Do
not cry, Princess.
Please
, do not cry. I don’t think I can bear it.”

Ciopori fell into his arms and clung to him so
tightly her body trembled. She clutched at his back as if she would never let
go, sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Gods, I didn’t intend
to do this.”

Marquis rested his chin gently on the top of her
head and brushed back her hair. His own hand trembled. “You have no idea how
sorry I am,” he whispered. “When I first saw the moon, I thought it was...for
us.”

“I saw it as well, but I never imagined it was
you.” Ciopori sniffled and pulled back to look him in the eyes.

“Who told you?” Marquis was already lost in the
golden amber of her eyes, even though the sparkle was clearly gone.

“Napolean.” She brushed away a tear.

Marquis nodded and pulled her close once again. He
didn’t know what to say…or do. Like her, he just wanted to hold on. Forever.

He had no idea how much time had passed, the two
of them locked in each other’s arms—thinking, feeling, grieving—trying to come
to grips with what had happened. And what was yet to come.

Ciopori finally broke the silence. “I understand
the blood sacrifice.” She steadied herself. “And I know what will happen if you
and your new...” Her words trailed off. She simply couldn’t say the word
destiny
aloud.

Marquis cupped her chin in his hands and lifted
her head to meet his gaze. “At risk of offending the gods, I have turned this
over in my head a dozen times, Ciopori, searching for a way out, but there
isn’t one. Outside of my own death in thirty days—”

“No!” Ciopori sounded horrified. “Absolutely not!
That is not an option!” Her entire body began to quiver.

Marquis sighed and looked away. “Okay,” he
whispered, holding her head to his heart and stroking her hair. “Okay, my love.
I will not speak of it again.”

Ciopori slowly calmed down. “What I was trying to
say is that I understand what you have to do—what you and Kristina have to do.”
Her voice faltered. “And I came to tell you that
you must
.” Her voice
grew stronger, and she took a step back in order to face him squarely. “
You
must make the sacrifice, Marquis
.
You must be with your
destiny—
and
you must live
.” She lowered her voice. “I would rather love you from afar
than try to live in a world without you. Do you understand?”

Marquis felt moisture swell in his eyes, and he blinked
it away. He instinctively glanced at the sky, noting how it was becoming
ominously dark. Rain clouds were forming in response to his tumultuous emotions;
he had to hold it together.

Napolean had already warned him about his last
outburst—too many humans had been injured as it was. He reached deep inside,
drawing on the seasoned warrior within, and a familiar strength answered. “If
that is your decision, then I will abide by it, but know this: If it were up to
me, I would choose thirty days with you.”

Ciopori turned as pale as a ghost. “’Tis not an
option warrior; ‘tis never an option!”

Marquis shook his head and regarded the sky once
again. “The gods are cruel,” he whispered. “I never questioned why they allowed
the Curse...
but this
?” He took a slow, deep breath. He kissed the
princess on the forehead and clasped her by both shoulders. “Ciopori, I cannot
see you again after today. There’s just no way...”

Ciopori’s courage dissolved like an icicle on a
summer’s day, all the air suddenly leaving her body. The look in her eyes was
one of both shock and desperation, and she seemed on the verge of panic. Trembling,
she reached up, cupped his face in her hand, and shook her head aggressively. Stretching
to the tips of her toes in order to reach him, she pressed her lips to his.

Marquis told himself to stop.

To just pull away.

To honor Lord Draco’s choice and Kristina, the
woman he was expected to turn Vampyr, the
destiny
who would soon bear
him twin sons. But his ageless soul could not. In that moment there was only
her:
Ciopori
. The sweet taste of her mouth, the intoxicating scent of
her skin, the soft curves that molded so perfectly against him as he pulled her
closer. There was only an aching, empty void, and his heart was so bereft—so filled
with grief and loneliness—that it overpowered his every sense of duty. Good and
bad no longer existed. Right and wrong were abstract concepts.

No…all that was good was in his arms. All that was
right had been taken from him. Marquis Silivasi owed the gods
nothing
.

Never again.

He had paid his dues.
For
fifteen-hundred
years
. And this was his reward?

As the earth fell out of focus, all other life drifting
away into the ether, Ciopori opened her love-filled eyes and whispered, “We
don’t have thirty-days, but we have right now, warrior. Give me this one moment—before
you and Kristina come together. Let me have this one memory to hold onto before
you are mated.”

As her enchanting eyes pled with his, Marquis
could hardly believe she was real. Where had this woman come from? When had
their love become so strong? And why did he feel it—trust it, know it—all the
way down to his soul?

His mind said,
No
.

His discipline said,
Absolutely not
.

His sense of loyalty and duty said,
Go inside
and find Kristina.

Marquis tried to push Ciopori away, desperately willing
his legs to move, urgently commanding his body to dematerialize...

And then his fangs extended as if they had a mind
of their own. He traced the alluring pulse along the side of her neck with his
finger, up and down...once, twice, three times. Marquis shivered as the last
vestige of his control slipped away, and his fangs sank deep into the soft hollow
above Ciopori’s shoulder.

She shuddered beneath him, and he drank like a man
possessed.

He would take everything she wanted to give—her blood,
her heart, her body—before he walked away. And when he finally did, he would
leave all that he was with her.

His heart. His body. His seed...

His soul
.

And as for the gods?
Well, they could just be
damned
.

Ciopori looked deep into Marquis’s eyes, certain he was going to leave her—that
he would simply melt away right then and there—without responding to her plea. And
then she felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her neck followed by a pleasure so
intense that it robbed her of breath.