Authors: Amy Miles
Roseline thinks back, remembering the gleeful look on Vladimir’s face as he prepared for his revenge on the hunters as they gathered for the season’s festivities.
Countless innocent lives were lost alongside Nicolae’s family that night, families of hunters from across the land.
If she closed her eyes, she could still picture the parents pleading for the lives of their children.
Nicolae’s smile turns wistful.
“I would have given in to my sisters too, just to stop their nagging.
They used to drive me crazy.
Always blaming me for the silly things they did.
One time they replaced mom’s chocolate cake batter with mud.
I can still remember them cackling at the top of the stairs as dad lit into me.”
Roseline chuckles.
Didn't she do similar things to her baby sister when she was alive?
A pang of remorse tugs at her heartstrings as she remembers it was Adela’s blood selected to transform her into an immortal on her wedding night.
She sobers.
“It is a terrible thing to lose one’s family.”
Nicolae falls silent, trapped within a world of happy memories long since turned to bitter decay.
The pain may have lessened over the years, but it lingers on.
“Sorin tried to beat out my love for them.
He told me that emotions, either good or bad, make you weak in battle.
I learned not to think about my past.
To let the dead keep the dead.
I was only a young boy.”
Her stomach twists.
“Such a terrible lesson to teach a child.”
“When it’s the only life you know…” Nicolae shrugs. Both fall silent, pondering how different their lives could have been if the immortal world had remained in shadow.
So much had been lost because of Vladimir’s ruthless desire for conquest.
Perhaps now his thirst for death has spilled over into something more.
Maybe he is no longer satisfied to remain in hiding.
Is that the purpose behind the global army?
To bring the immortal world into the light?
Death may break people apart but a quest for revenge can bind them together.
Roseline realizes Nicolae’s plight is not all that different from her own.
“I suppose we both have a debt to settle with Vladimir,” she says.
Thoughts of all that she has loved and lost resurface.
Life, as unbearable as it may be, moves steadily on, but she will never forget.
She will never forgive.
Chapter 6
Gabriel curls into the fetal position on the scratchy brown wool blanket that drapes the metal frame of his cot.
His arms clamp around his head as the pain settles behind his eyes, blinding him.
“Not again,” he groans.
His teeth pierce through his lower lip as searing light rips through his mind.
His howl rattles the reinforced walls.
The thick wooden door to his right rattles on large steel hinges, dust filters from the wooden slates that cover the rock ceiling overhead.
The top of his skull cracks under the pressure.
Shifting.
Mending.
The bridge of his nose raises half an inch as his cheekbones rotate back.
His hairline rises slightly as his ears shift into their proper position.
Perfection.
Gabriel lurches to the side, vomiting onto the floor.
The expanding filth seeps into the cracks of the floorboards under his tiny bed.
The rancid scent burns his nostrils, contaminating the stale air that hangs heavy in the small space.
His windowless room offers only a sliver of fresh air that manages to seep in from under the wooden door.
He sucks in steadying breaths, grimacing at the foul taste lingering in my mouth and the acid that burns his throat.
The pain begins to recede, if only for the moment.
Gabriel falls back onto his cot, his sweat clinging to him like a second skin.
His chest heaves as he slumps, exhausted.
The pillow is flat, lacking of any real softness of stuffing but he doesn’t care.
“What is happening to me?” he shouts.
No answer.
Just like the last time and the forty before that, but he knows he is being watched.
He can hear them out there, talking and laughing.
He resists their attempts to drive him mad.
Rose would want him to be strong.
Rose
, his mind screams.
His chest constricts at the thought of her.
Where is she?
Is she alright?
Was she kidnapped too?
A growl rises in his chest at the thought of anyone touching her.
Rage as he has never known before curls in his gut.
His hands flex, begging to be free of this debilitating pain, aching for revenge.
He would gladly seek it from among any of the six heartbeats that live in the space beyond his cage, but he is weakening.
His strength wanes with each round of transformations.
Only when the birth pains build does he have the strength to bend the edges of his metal cot.
Instinctively, he knows that blood will heal him.
It’s not his brain speaking to him, but the very cells of his body.
He knows he should be repulsed by the thought…but he isn’t.
Gabriel glares at the small packet of blood left for him in the corner.
Shadows and spider webs cling to the base of the table, betraying its age and disuse.
His stomach growls, craving the blood like a junkie searching for his next fix, but he resists.
“No,” he shouts to the voices beyond, “you can’t make me drink it!”
He refuses to give
them
the satisfaction.
Panting, Gabriel closes his eyes and focuses on Roseline.
On her piercing eyes.
Her smile, which makes him weak with desire.
He can almost imagine the feel of her soothing hands against his feverish skin, taste her kisses on his lips, feel her hair draped across his bare chest.
His eyes sting as tears begin to form.
Filled with resolve, he swipes them away.
He won’t be weak.
He can’t be.
She needs him.
A strangled groan escapes his lips as heat begins to bloom once more.
“No, please, not again,” he begs as his pelvis explodes.
Chapter 7
Nicolae whistles as Roseline steers his vehicle in front of a hotel.
“You want to stay at the Savoy?”
She ducks low to look at the stately building through the snow-framed windshield.
She and the Savoy go way back.
Roseline smiles, remembering how she and Fane danced long into the night in celebration of the grand opening back in 1889.
“Can you think of a better place to sleep?”
“Nope,” he grins, propping open his door.
Frosty air gusts into the car.
He hops out, wincing at the twinge in his lower back.
“I’ll just go get us a room.”
“Nicolae, wait…”
The door slams.
Roseline shakes her head.
“This is not going to end well.”
The door attendant’s eyebrows rise as Nicolae hobbles past.
His heavily creased sweater and jeans are certainly not acceptable attire for the world-renowned Savoy.
He enters through the sweeping doors, oblivious to the doorman’s scrutiny.
Roseline lowers the window, turning her face toward the biting winds.
Twenty-six hours, riding in this sauna, has left her drained both physically and mentally.
Although she would never admit it, Roseline chose the Savoy for one very good reason, the luxurious bathroom awaiting her.
A nice long soak will do wonders to revive her.
She does not have long to wait before Nicolae arrives.
He thrusts up into the passenger seat, angrily brushing a pile of dripping snow from his hair.
“Of all the rude, insensitive people that I have ever met!”
Roseline grins.
“Is something the matter?”
“They won’t take my credit card,” he snaps, reminding her of a spitting cobra. Agitated, he thumps his thumb against the window.
“Let me guess, they think you’ve stolen your parent’s credit card.”
“It has my bloody name on it!”
“Your English accent is truly appalling when you are mad.”
She fights to stifle a laugh, but fails.
Nicolae scowls.
“Think you can do any better?”
“Of course I can.
I
have
looked seventeen a whole lot longer than you have.
Take the wheel.”
Without waiting for him to move, she nimbly crawls into the back seat.
“Drive around the block a few times.”
Nicolae frowns, glancing between her and the empty driver’s seat.
“What are you doing?”
“Just turn around and don’t peek.”
Nicolae tucks his legs into the driver’s side and settles behind the wheel.
“This is a bad idea.”
He flips on the turn signal and darts out into the heavy London traffic.
The oversized Hummer squeezes down the streets, nearly shoving cars out of the way.
Honking horns create a symphony in the background.
A military boot lands in the seat next to him, followed quickly by a pair of black pants.
He glances in the rearview mirror.
“Please tell me you’re not actually stripping back there.”
“Just focus on the road.
I’m almost done.”
“Someone might see you,” he hisses, yanking the car around a roundabout.
Roseline’s head pops up between the front seats.
She wiggles past him and drops into the passenger side.
“Tinted windows are a modern miracle.”
“They aren’t
that
tinted,” he curses as he yanks on the wheel to dodge a straggler from a tour group, gazing up at Big Ben.
“It’s fine.
It’s not like this was my first time,” she laughs.
“Somehow, I don’t doubt that.”
When he darts another glance at her, his jaw drops open, the wheel twists through his loose grip and a car horn blares right behind them.
Roseline grabs the steering wheel, yanking the car back onto the road.
“Stop staring and drive,” she growls.
She releases the wheel once he is back in control.
“You almost got us killed,” he grumbles, peeling his eyes away from her skimpy dress.
“I am not the one driving,” she points out, “and you forget that one of us is already technically dead.”
“Semantics,” Nicolae mutters, regaining control of the car.
“Where did you get that dress?”
“From a lovely boutique in Austria, not too far outside of Vienna.
I grabbed it while you were snoring away.
I thought it might come in handy.
Looks like I was right.”
She runs her hand along the silky fabric.
“The seamstress was delighted that it fit me so well.”
That is an understatement.
She looks as if she has been poured into the deep emerald dress.
The low cut neckline accentuates her curvy figure while the high hemline emphasizes her endless legs.
The torso is snug, molding perfectly to her narrow waist.
It flares gently at her hips.
Roseline’s fingers move deftly over her hair, brushing out the tangles.
By rearranging some pins in her hair, she collects curls until long tresses caress her smooth ivory cheeks.
“How do I look?”
His lips part, cheeks redden as he gives her a rapid once over, “Yeah, that should work.”
“Turn right,” she points.
He spins the wheel, pulling back into the Savoy entry.
The door attendant frowns as he steps out into the blustery cold.
“I don’t think he’s too happy to see us again.”
“Don’t worry,” Roseline flashes him a winning smile, “I’m about to change his mind.”
She opens the passenger door and allows her legs to slide out, her strappy black heels hugging her feet.
She turns back.
“Oh, and whatever happens, try not to freak out.”
“What the heck is that supposed to mean?”
The door slams in his face as Roseline steps lightly onto the curb and waits.
When Nicolae joins her, she tucks her arm firmly through his.
“Follow my lead.”
With purposeful steps, she pulls Nicolae towards the entrance.
A radiant smile stretches along her face.
Nicolae dips his shoulders, barricading against the wind.
The door attendant stands a little straighter, adjusting his tie as Roseline saunters up with Nicolae on her arm.
“Good afternoon,” she says, her voice dripping with honey as she adopts a perfect English accent.
Nicolae watches the exact moment that she snags him.
His adam’s apple bobs as the man gazes at each amplified curve of her supple body.
He tips his hat, sucks in his beer belly and bows low as she passes.
Roseline makes sure to give him an extra wiggle as they pass through the glass doors.
“Miss.”
“That’s disgusting,” Nicolae shudders.
She tosses her curls over her shoulder as she winks at a young man peering at her over his newspaper in the lobby.
“He is simply a means to an end.”
“You are pure evil,” Nicolae mutters under his breath.
Her musical laughter soars through the lavish room as they stroll across the checkered floor.
Heads turn and eyes light with curiosity as the oddly matched couple waltz up to the reception desk.
Roseline taps the bell, waiting patiently.
Nicolae’s face turns upward, staring at the wide floor-to-ceiling columns and rich mahogany accents.
“For this to work, you’re going to have to actually look at me,” Roseline whispers.
She turns toward Nicolae, curling her shoulders over just enough to accentuate the curves threatening to spill out of her dress.
He risks a tiny glance.
“Not at my chest,” she hisses.
“I need you able to walk out of here.”
A crimson flame creeps up Nicolae’s neck.
Roseline rolls her eyes.
He is making this much harder than it needs to be.
She leans in, letting her breath caress his neck.
He groans softly.
“Open your eyes,” she whispers.
This time, Nicolae makes sure to keep his gaze above her chin.
She scrutinizes him, noting the rapid pulse thrumming against his neck.
The flush rising on his neck.
The way he strokes his inner arm, as if he wished it were her skin under his fingertips.
“Good.
Now act like you are in love with me.”
“What?” He yanks back, his voice dispersing throughout the room.
Roseline titters, covering over his mistake.
Tossing her curls over her shoulder, she hides her annoyance from the hotel guests.
“Focus, Nicolae.”
She hits the bell again, louder this time.
A door opens.
She breathes a sigh of relief as the stuffy concierge approaches.
“May I help you, sir?” He turns to address Nicolae.
“Uh…yeah.
I, uh…” Nicolae splutters.
Roseline giggles, letting her nails dance across the counter.
“What my eloquent fiancé is trying to say is that we would like a room.”
She leans in closer.
“We’re celebrating our recent engagement.”
“How lovely for you,” the man replies dryly, “but as I have already informed your fiancé, we do not rent rooms to minors without prior consent from a parent or legal guardian.”
His gaze travels over Roseline’s face and then dips lower.
She hears his pulse begin elevate.
Good.
It is working.
She has his attention, but needs to set the hook.
Reaching behind her, Roseline places Nicolae’s hand on her hip.
His fingers stiffen, clawing into her flesh.
Roseline allows her eyes to close for a split second, long enough to imagine someone else’s hands- Gabriel’s.
The instant her mind slips into the lie, she has him.
Hormones leek from her skin, curling past the long hairs just peeking out from the concierge’s nose. He breathes deep, savoring the scent of her bewitching aroma.
Her fingers walk forward, circling just in front of his.
“Surely there is s
omething
you can do to help us.”
Breathy words push her intoxicating hormones into his face.
With a slight of hand, she produces Nicolae’s black credit card from his back pocket.
“I would be very, v
ery
, appreciative.”
She places the card in the man’s hand, allowing her fingers to trail down his.
The feel of his clammy hand turns her stomach, but she keeps her smile plastered firmly in place.