Blood Awakening (17 page)

“The first strike incites the demons,” he moaned,
gyrating beneath the slithering creatures, his enormous sex jutting upward with
fevered arousal. He bent his head back as far as it could go, offering his
throat to a giant beast that had wrapped around his arm, his own tongue
practically hanging out of his mouth, swiping back and forth over the tips of
his fangs.

Ciopori looked away, horrified.

She tried to pray, to chant, to remember her magic—how
to push the snakes away—but she couldn’t concentrate.
Oh goddess, help me!
She
couldn’t remember the incantations.

As a large reptile meandered up the side of the
gargoyle and slithered across her shackled feet, Ciopori began to panic.
Oh
gods!
“Salvatore! Please.
Please.
Stop this! I’m begging you.”

She watched in revulsion as Salvatore began to
climax, shouting his release even as his body began to seize in reaction to the
enormous amount of poison attacking his system. He was having multiple orgasms
while enduring excruciating pain.

How is he living through it?
she wondered. Sweet
Cygnus, how would she?

Waiting a couple of seconds to come down from the
high, Salvatore struggled to speak. “My own venom is stronger.” He hissed and
moaned like a love-slave being taken by his master. “Over centuries, we have
built up antibodies—” 

His voice dropped off suddenly. On a sharp inhale,
his sex jerked several times with another release.

Ciopori recoiled as warm tears rushed down her
face.
Marquis
. Where was Marquis? Did he even know she was missing? Would
he come for her? Dear gods, what would happen when he found her like this, dead
and mutilated from a hundred snake bites?

She whimpered in frustration—and terror—as the
snake made its way down the gargoyle, slithered up her belly, drew back its iconic,
flared neck, and stared at her with dark, piercing eyes, its tongue darting in
and out. “No,” she pleaded beneath her breath, trembling like she was about to
come apart. “No, no, no…please…” She struggled frantically against the chains.

And then it struck right above her collar bone,
its fangs sinking deep.

Ciopori cried out in horror and mind-numbing pain
as the venom passed through the bite, and her heart immediately constricted in
her chest. Then just like they had with Salvatore, the remaining snakes
descended upon the stone. A hard strike to her inner thigh made her jerk even
as a third set of fangs entered her stomach. Her cries were primal and
unrelenting; her terror hovered on the edge of madness; her soul pleaded for a
merciful, swift death.

And then a deep male voice thundered through the
chaos. “Retreat!”

The snakes swayed back and forth, hissing their
displeasure, their hypnotic heads weaving back and forth with the threat of
another strike, yet slowly...one by one...they began to draw back, even as the
three already attached withdrew their fangs.

Ciopori sobbed in pain and desperation.

And then Salvatore held up his hand, and the
snakes turned back toward Ciopori, renewed hope gleaming in their demonic eyes.
He leaned over her trembling body until she could feel his rancid breath
against her face. “Will you take care of my nephew, Princess?”

“Yes,” Ciopori sobbed. “
Yes!
”

“
Good care
?” Salvatore asked.

Ciopori gasped for air as her tongue swelled and
her throat began to close in reaction to the venom. “Yes…oh, gods…please…”

Salvatore smiled then and bent over to press a
soft kiss against her lips. “You do realize you are dying? Rather quickly, I
might add.”

She stared at him in abject horror, unable to
speak, unable to think, her body convulsing as a pain unlike any she’d ever
known seized her muscles, and her organs began to shut down.

Salvatore cupped her face in his hands and nuzzled
her neck. “Would you like my assistance, sweet princess?”

She pleaded with her eyes.

And then he knelt softly beside her, lifted her head
in his palms—allowing it to fall back, and struck her jugular quick and hard
with his own razor-sharp fangs. Venom a thousand times more painful than that
of the cobras’ assaulted her blood stream.

Ciopori prayed for death.

But it didn’t come.

It felt like hours—though it was probably only
seconds—before Salvatore withdrew his fangs and her voice slowly returned, the
swelling in her throat receding. Her body began to heal as Salvatore’s venom overpowered
the cobras’. “Will I become a vampire?”

Salvatore laughed. “No. Only the
destinies
of the lighter vampires can be so easily converted. You would have to willingly
relinquish your soul first. The unfortunate word being
willingly
.”

Ciopori swallowed hard and tugged at the chains. “Release
me, Salvatore”—she paused—“Please.”

Salvatore looked around the room and eyed the
waiting snakes. “You will do as I say, or there will be no mercy.”

“Yes.”

“You will come willingly into my arms. You will
acknowledge that I—
not you
—am the master of this domain. And you will
obey me from this moment forward, or I will keep you here all night, allowing every
snake in this pit to strike you, providing you with just enough venom to keep
you alive so that you cannot escape the torture. Do you understand me, Princess?
Your insolence will not be tolerated
.”

Ciopori looked up at the wicked being now standing
above her, his hard, muscular body naked and soiled with his own pleasure. Reluctantly,
she nodded.

Salvatore unchained her hands first, still
allowing the snakes to hover.

“Please,” she begged, hugging her arms to her
chest. “Get rid of them.”

He unchained her feet, and she stood up on the
bench as if she could avoid the vile creatures by stepping out of their range. They
slithered around her feet.

“Salvatore!”

He held out his arms. “I’m waiting.”

Ciopori swallowed hard and leaned toward the repugnant
son of Jaegar. He moved his body even closer to hers. As a large snake began to
climb her leg, she kicked it off, threw her arms around his neck, and crawled
into his arms.

“And?”

Ciopori squirmed, trying to keep her body out of
the reach of the snakes. She clung to Salvatore’s gigantic frame like a thrashing
boat tethered to a buoy in a storm. “And you are…”  She struggled to say the words.

As Salvatore lowered her slowly toward the serpents,
she dug her nails into his shoulders, grasping for sanctuary.

“You are the master of this domain.”

Salvatore bent his head. He sniffed her fear and
moaned. “Whose master?”

Ciopori brushed away a burning tear and buried her
head in the crook of his neck. It was of no use. She was terrified…defeated.

Humiliated.

“Whose master!” he thundered.

“Mine,” she whispered, unwilling to die for pride.
“You are my master, Salvatore.”

Salvatore waved his hand at the snakes. “Leave us.”

One by one, the cobras slowly retreated, slithering
away from the bed, up the walls, and back into their hell-holes.

Trembling like a child awakened from a nightmare,
Ciopori relished the safety of Salvatore’s arms. Her body still suffered the
effects of the snake and vampire venoms. Her heart still pounded erratically in
her chest. The slick, viscous substance of Salvatore’s pleasure clung to her
tattered gown and skin.

Salvatore purred deep in his throat. “You are mine,
Ciopori.”

With the wave of his hand, he clothed himself. And
then he gently stroked her hair and headed back to his lair.

Marquis stood outside of the guest bedroom early
Monday morning, gathering all of the courage he could muster. He had fought in
countless battles over the centuries, defeated formidable enemies, and led
respectable armies, but he knew that he was in for the fight of his life now.

He knocked gently on the bedroom door. For the
third time.

“Go away!”

Another large object smashed against the wall and
splintered into pieces: This one sounded like the Renaissance vase he kept on
the armoire.

Marquis cringed.

Well, at least there was nothing left of value for
Kristina to destroy. Anything else she got her hands on was at least from the
current century, and thus, possibly replaceable.

“Kristina,” he grumbled, even though he tried to
whisper. At least he didn’t growl. “I’m coming in...okay?”

“Don’t you dare open that door, you cretin son of
a…”

The string of words was as long as his arm, and he
winced. “
Kristina,
please—”

“Please what!”

Please what, indeed.

What had he expected after that primitive
demonstration he had put on the night before? A Hallmark card and breakfast in
bed? Marquis leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes.
Dearest Lord
Draco, what had he done?

As a male vampire, even in the house of Jadon, his
nature was both civilized and untamed. He possessed equal parts light and
shadow, and like any primitive being, there was a breaking point, a threshold beyond
which caution and reason gave way to pure primal instinct. Where judgment
became impulse, and the animal became too feral to restrain.

He chided himself on his complete lack of control.
Never—well, rarely—in his great expanse of life had he allowed himself to go
that far over the edge, and now he was paying the price. Converting her like
that? On the porch? Without her consent? The pain and suffering she had endured...

It was extreme, even for him.

He took a deep breath and steadied himself. She
had tried to
kill him
, after all.

Twice.

He knocked again. “Kristina,
îmi pare
rӑu
.” He leaned
his forehead against the door. “I had a...very bad day.”
I’m sorry.

“What!” she squealed as another heavy thump resounded,
this time against the door: definitely a shoe this time. “
You
had a bad
day? Go to hell, Marquis!”

Marquis shook his head. He’d had more than enough.
They had been at this for hours. This standoff had to end. Using the supernatural
speed of his kind, he flung the door open, entered the room, and quickly waved
his hand, paralyzing her arms.

To his surprise, as he started toward his mate, a
large, heavy object launched off the bed and barely missed his head. He ducked
back out of the room and slammed the door. Wow, she had
kicked
an old
Webster’s dictionary with her foot. He hadn’t seen that coming. Perhaps the woman
had missed her calling; she should have played soccer.

“Kristina!” Marquis snarled, slowly reopening the
door, this time immobilizing her legs as well. “That is quite enough.” When he
looked over at the bed, her face was beet red, and her bottom lip was quivering
like a toddler’s, just moments away from a god-awful wail. He held up his hand.
“Please, don’t.”

Her eyes bored into his skull like daggers as she
sucked back air, too proud to cry in front of him. “Yeah, those words sound
familiar, don’t they?”

Marquis shook his head and slowly approached the
bed. She was just a human and a small one at that—paralyzed—but for the love of
Perseus, the female looked scary. “Can I release you now? Will you behave?”

Kristina blanched at the word
behave
and
glowered at him with pure, unadulterated hatred in her eyes. “Will
you
?”
she retorted.

Marquis shrugged his shoulders. “Yes.”

Kristina rolled her bright blue eyes. “Well then
come on in,
honey dumpling
,
sweetheart, baby.
Let’s get this
marriage rolling!”

Marquis blinked several times, absolutely lost. Under
normal circumstances, he had absolutely no idea what to do with a woman—outside
of making love—and these circumstances were
strained
at best.

Kristina laughed aloud. “You should see the look
on your face,
boss
. Damn, and I always thought you controlled the
universe. You’re clueless, aren’t you?”

Marquis huffed, indignant.

“Yeah, well, let me give you a hint. What you did
last night? First, to Dirk…”  Her voice trailed off as tears welled up in her
eyes. She fought them back. “And then to
me
? You may as well save the
rest! This it-shay is too broke to fix.
Ever
.”

Marquis took a few steps toward the bed, then
stopped. He dropped his head in his hands and smoothed back his hair, pushing
it away from his face. “Kristina, I regret the way things…unfolded last night.”

She chuckled. “Oh, well then, what was I thinking?
Being so angry and all?” If looks could kill, he would have been six feet
under.

He sighed. “How are you feeling this morning?”

She reached for a glass paper-weight beside the
bed, but Marquis was too quick. Using only his mind, he whisked it out of her
hand and gently floated it across the room, lowering it smoothly onto an
antique dresser before she could launch it at his head. “We need to talk,
Kristina. There is much—”

“Oh, shut up, Marquis!” Her voice was sharp with
anger. “Just. Shut. Up.”

Marquis felt his top lip begin to twitch and
quickly closed his eyes, willing his fangs to stay where they were.
Do not
kill the human, Marquis. Do not kill the human, Marquis. Do not kill the human…
 

“Kristina—”

“I agree,” she interrupted a second time. “There
are some things that need to be said, but it’s your turn to listen
while I
talk
.”

Grateful for the reprieve—and because he had
absolutely no idea what he was going to say next, anyway—Marquis took a seat in
a high-backed, upholstered arm-chair adjacent to the bed and waited. This was a
far better strategy anyhow. Learn your enemy’s position and then counter with—

Enemy?

Had he just said
enemy
?

The reality struck him. Dear gods, this woman was
not supposed to be his enemy; she was his
destiny
. His
eternal
life mate.

As quickly as the thought entered his mind, the
princess’s beautiful face flashed through his memory; he rubbed the bridge of
his nose and looked away. “I’m listening, Kristina.”

Kristina sat up and pulled the covers all the way
up to her chin. “So, here’s the deal: Have you ever heard of IVF?”

“IVF?” Marquis asked.

“Yeah, IVF!
In vitro fertilization
. It’s
when—”

“I know what it is, Kristina.” Marquis scowled.

“Good. Because—”

“And if I know where you’re going with this”—it
was his turn to interrupt—“then I think what you mean to say is
artificial
insemination
. Unless of course, there is some reason you are unable to
become pregnant, which”—he took a deep sniff of the air—“there isn’t.”

Kristina gasped, incredulous. “OMG! You are
disgusting! Damn! You are way too much for me, Marquis!”

“Too much what?” he asked, contemplating. “Oh…is
this what you fear?”

Kristina’s hand shot up in the air. “Stop! Don’t
even go there.
Holy shit!
”
She took a deep breath. “Remember,
you’re supposed to be
listening.
Just listen, Marquis!”

Marquis leaned back in the chair, stretched out
his legs, crossed them at the ankles, and folded his hands in his lap. “Very
well. Have I ever heard of artificial insemination? Yes, I have.”

“Well, good,” Kristina snapped, trying to regain
her composure, “because that’s the closest you’re ever going to get to me. And
that’s assuming I agree to do this whole...baby thing...because let’s just both
be honest, that’s the only reason I’m here. You sure as hell don’t love me or
want me. And I sure as hell don’t love or want you! And I never will.”

Marquis was surprised at how badly her words stung.

They were true, but after so many years of waiting
for one’s
destiny
—imagining, believing, hoping—the whole situation was like
a horrible nightmare, too awful to be true. “Go on,” he mumbled.

“If I have to live here”—she waved her arms around
the room—“then there are going to be some changes...some additions.”

“Like what?” Marquis snarled.

Kristina sat up straight and glared at him. “Like
any damn thing I want! A home theatre! A sauna! A covered swimming pool out
back—anything I want!”

Marquis stared at her, swallowed hard, and bit his
lip. “Continue.”

“And that’s just the house,” she stormed. “There
are a whole lot of other things...like my own Hummer to drive in the winter,
and maybe a pink Corvette for the summertime: a convertible. And clothes. Jewelry.
A new iPod. A few gold cards to spend at my leisure—”

“Is that what you wished to tell me?” Marquis
growled in frustration, his temper growing short. “Make a list and write it
down, Kristina. I haven’t the time for this nonsense.”

“Excuse me?” She sounded mildly surprised.

He sat up and leaned forward. “Will all of those
things
shut you up? Make you cooperative?
Get you out of my hair
?” To heck with
trying to be cordial. The female was right—they had nothing in common, and they
never would.

Not to mention, this was the second time she had
tried to trade her body for favors; and frankly, it disgusted him. It was the
second time she had treated something as sacred as bringing life into the world
as an abomination to be bartered over—and the second time she had acted as if
whether he lived or died was of no consequence whatsoever. Very well, then. Forging
an understanding up front would make life a lot easier on both of them.

“Money is of no consequence to me,” he quipped. “Go
on.”

Kristina cleared her throat, suddenly a little
less cocky. “And I don’t want children,” she whispered, straightening her spine
as she delivered the words.

Why was he not surprised?

“So that means a nanny twenty-four-seven ...maybe
several…whatever it takes to keep the kid out of my hair. I won’t raise our son,
Marquis. And trust me, the one we
have to have
is the only one we’re
ever going to have.”

A low growl escaped his throat as he tried
counting backward from ten to one. “Go on,” he spat through gritted teeth.

“I don’t work unless I want to, and you let me go
wherever I want and do whatever I feel like, even if I have to have a bodyguard—one
of those
sentinel dudes
with me all the time.” She crossed her arms in
front of her.

“Is that it?”

“No,” she sighed. “We sleep in separate rooms, and
if I want...” She took a deep breath. “If I wanna...
get with
…someone
else, another guy, then you’ve got nothin’ to say about it, so  just turn the
other way.” Feeling emboldened, she added, “It’s none of your biz, feel me?”

“Are you through?”

Kristina looked down then. “Maybe, but if I come
up with something else, I’ll let you know.”

Marquis rose slowly from the chair. His heart-beat
was eerily steady, his demeanor far too calm. As he stalked to the edge of the
bed, his fangs began to elongate on their own accord, and he felt the primal heat
of rage burning in his eyes. But he made no attempt to soften their intensity:
Let them burn the color of blood. It was better than spilling hers.

Kristina scooted as far back against the headboard
as she could, her throat working in anxious swallows, her hands now clutching
the covers like a drowning man grasping a life jacket.

Marquis didn’t blink.

He stopped with his face a few inches from hers
and then knelt with one knee on the mattress, his powerful frame towering over
her miniscule one. Slowly and evenly, he began to speak: “Kristina, you will
take the remainder of this day and tomorrow to recover from the conversion, and
then you will go to Kagen’s clinic tomorrow night for the insemination. I will
command the pregnancy, and we will get it over with.”

He shifted his weight, his muscles rolling in silent
waves of contempt as his warrior’s body contracted. “You may have your swimming
pool, theatre, and sauna—and whatever else you desire—once my own contractors have
seen to the plans: You will not make a pretentious eyesore out of this home…or this
land…and you will not obstruct the natural views or compromise the
architectural integrity in any way.”

He stopped to lick the tips of his fangs, drawing
a single drop of blood from his tongue and swallowing it. “Drive whatever you
wish, Kristina, and I will see to it that you have a credit card with an
inexhaustible balance—but not because you have extorted it out of me. As I said
before, I can make you want…
and do
…whatever I wish. No, you will have your
precious possessions because as my mate, there is nothing I would have denied
you anyhow.”

Kristina’s face paled, and she didn’t dare speak.

Marquis cleared his throat. “You may also travel
with a sentinel escort and seek your own entertainment, within reason, but I
will not have you demean the honor of our house—or the house of Jadon—so choose
your activities wisely, lest you lose all freedom
forever
.”

He leaned closer then, their noses touching, and then
he chuckled, though the laughter did not come from humor. “As for your sexual
desires and what is or is not my business: Should you
ever
avail
yourself of the pleasures of another man, I will rip his throat out while you
watch, and then I will force you to kneel in his blood and feed from his dying
heart. So, again, I say—choose wisely.”