The Vampyre Legal Chronicles - Marcus (19 page)

She might be
down, but she certainly wasn't out.

At last, logic
and common sense prevailed.

She wanted to
survive.

To survive, she
needed nutrients.

Nutrients found
in blood products.

So, she
nodded.

"All right. I'm
not touching Marcus. But I will try one of your bags of blood."

The wide smile
that split Saira's face totally transformed her from a stunning
woman to a beautiful one. Anais couldn't help but smile back.

However, that
smile slid from her face when Saira placed a bag, cold from the
fridge, and a straw in her hand.

"Some people
prefer it nuked in the microwave to bring it up to body
temperature."

Anais
shuddered.

"Ugh. No
thanks."

She closed her
eyes as she tentatively took a careful sip, ready for her gag
reflex to kick in.

Instead, the
syrupy red fluid didn't taste utterly disgusting, it tasted like a
tart, liquid... honey?

Delicious.

Delectable.

Delightful.

Her eyes flew
open to find Saira grinning at her like a fool.

"There you go.
Well done. You'll start to feel a lot better. Less cranky. Your
moods, your hormones, will stabilise. And you'll feel more like
yourself. Later, we'll discuss how the ebb and flow and cycle of
the moon impacts a female vampyre's hormones."

Sounded...
interesting.

Anais finished
feeding, took a very deep breath, and realised that she did,
indeed, feel so much better.

"I suppose I'd
better have another, since I've missed meals for days."

Saira nodded,
but her eyes were watchful, careful.

"Sure. But I'd
leave it for another hour or so. See how we go."

Anais rose,
then sat down hard when the room spun.

"Whoa, head
rush."

"That's what I
mean. Why don't you lie down, take a nap, let your body rest and
heal."

Sounded like a
good idea to Anais.

Two minutes
later, she lay on her bed.

For the first
time in days she closed her eyes, and dropped like a stone into
sleep.

Meanwhile,
his mood bleak, Marcus was talking to James.

"
I've broken her trust." He slumped onto a couch, leaned
back against silk cushions and rested his weary head on the back of
the couch, to stare unseeing at the ceiling. "I deserve every black
look, every snarl. All of it."

To bring her into his world without a
single thought for her feelings had been a
vile act. Unworthy of who he was. He'd
made the wrong choice. A costly mistake, and Anais was making very
sure he paid. He was the lowest form of life that had ever crawled
on his belly through a fetid swamp. Looking deep within himself, he
had to admit she owned him, always would.

"I've never wanted someone so much," he
continued. "Someone who's so determined to keep me out. And I can't
make a move without her. She's driving me nuts."

"Love can do that to a man."

"If this is love then..."

"I'm not sure you know what love is, but
it appears you've
succumbed at last. It's a great pity you fell for her after
the event, but it's also unlike you to brood like this."

"I don't know what to do. I don't know how
to fix it."

James moved to a tall cupboard, poured a
couple of shots of whisky. Vampyres didn't get drunk, but the buzz
lasted for ten minutes and was better than nothing.

He handed a glass to Marcus, who took it with
a nod of thanks.

"Regaining her trust isn't impossible.
Actions speak a helluva lot louder than words."

"Until she stabilizes, we are stuck
here."

James sat on the opposite couch, rested his
elbows on his knees, deep in thought.

"Anais is a woman who needs to keep her
mind occupied," he said at last. "She also needs to feel valued and
have a purpose. Until now, her purpose and focus is law. Give her
something to do."

Of course!

Why hadn't he thought of such a simple
solution?

Feel
ing a hell of a lot brighter, Marcus rose and moved towards
her rooms.

He knocked the door, no way was he going
to just barge right in there, and received no response. Taking
care, he turned the door handle, and popped his head around the
door, to find the room in darkness.

The sound of her steady breathing told him
she was sound asleep.

Bless her.

She must be absolutely exhausted.

Heart lighter, he closed the door and told
himself he would do everything he could to make their relationship
work.

After all, what choice did he have?

Later that evening
Anais stretched in bed arching her back like a
replete, contented kitten.

Her bones,
every single muscle in her body, felt fluid, strong, in a wonderful
way.

She opened her
eyes. And gasped as the world seemed to appear brighter. From the
penthouse suite, even through closed French doors, she could quite
clearly hear the traffic far below. Even voices of people calling
for a cab.

Wow.

Amazing.

So this was
what it felt like to be a vampyre?

Whenever she
thought of what had happened to her, a lump of ice appeared in her
gut. And that lump threatened to destroy a very special moment.

She was no
longer human.

But Anais was
also a realist.

Her hand slid
between her breasts to fist the bloodstone and her rollercoaster
emotions calmed.

She knew it was
going to take her a lifetime to come to terms with her situation. A
part of her still found it difficult to accept that she may have
plenty of lifetimes ahead of her.

Who’d have
thought it?

But did she
want potentially to live for hundreds of years?

It wasn’t hard
to see the downside to such an experience, not least of which was
watching friends and loved ones grow old and die before her.

Now Anais
refused to let negativity impact her good mood.

Sliding out of
bed she pulled on a long robe of white silk and tied it tight
around her tiny waist.

She cocked her
head, heard twenty-four hour news playing in the sitting room and
listened to the faint sound of a shower coming from Marcus's
bedroom.

Taking a deep
breath, she padded over to the French doors that opened out onto
the long balcony that stretched the entire length of the luxury
suite. Not once had she been permitted outside to inhale fresh,
clean air. Now something, the night, seemed to lure, entice her.
Reaching out her hand, her fingers hovered over the key in the
lock. Instantly her vampyre took note. Reminding her that she'd
given her word, promised Saira faithfully never to open the doors,
the windows. But what harm would it do to stand outside for just a
moment? She was in a penthouse high above the street below. She was
desperate to breathe the air, to gaze at the stars. '
Give me a
minute to just enjoy the night sky
,' she whispered silently,
telling her vampyre not to worry.

Slowly she
turned the lock, cautiously opened the door.

It was freezing
cold as she stepped out into the night. The moon illuminated the
glittering City of Shanghai.

Thrilled, Anais
moved to the rail and leaned over to look down into the busy stream
of humanity.

She was
sixty-six floors above the noise of traffic, soaring high above the
smells and calls of food vendors.

Lifting her
face to the moon, she closed her eyes marvelling at the wondrous
sensation the silver light had upon her flesh.

A sudden gust
of icy wind abruptly slapped her face and she loved it.

Inhaling
deeply, Anais relaxed properly for the first time in days.

There wasn’t a
chance to scream.

Strong hands
picked her up and tossed her over the balcony.

Marcus stepped out of the shower wrapping a thick
towel around his waist.

Mind filled
with the woman he loved, he continued to fret over Anais.

Continued to
worry over how he was going to make what he'd done up to her.

Saira had told
him Anais had fed, was in a better frame of mind, and that small
positive step had lifted his spirits.

Picking up a
hand towel to rub it over his hair, he stopped dead.

His world
blinked out.

Then blinked on
again.

With a
heart-broken bellow his vampyre leapt.

The sensation
of utter terror gripped his heart.

In his mind the
impression of Anais screaming her lungs out flashed, before it was
gone, replaced now by nothing but darkness.

No, no,
no.

Marcus was
through the door, sprinting through the sitting room and into her
bedroom, running through the wide-open French doors to look over
the balcony, to stare down in sheer horror.

All he could
hear was the roar of his heart.

His enhanced
eyesight could see no furore, or any sign of her body, in the
street far below.

What the
fuck?

Knuckles white
on the guardrail, for a horrified moment his mind went blank.

He didn’t know
what to do.

His brother and
Saira were at his side, asking what the hell was the matter.

Six Centuri
landed on the balcony.

Dressed from
head to toe in black leather, their Commander, Ian Macpherson,
bowed low from the waist.

"My Lord. Two
Legionnaires threw a woman from the balcony. We were too late to
catch her."

Praying like
he’d never prayed before, Marcus wanted the answer to only one
question.

"Is she alive?"
he whispered.

"No body has
been found. They used magic, sire. One moment she was in the air,
the next they were gone."

Just as he was
about to demand they begin a search, Marcus heard the shrill of his
cell phone ringing in his bedroom.

As he stalked
through the suite to pick up his cell, his vampyre intuition told
him that the call was not a coincidence.

Cursing the
fact he was shaking like a fucking leaf, the voice at the other end
made his belly ache as if a steel fist had been plunged in his
gut.

Dear Christ,
the Witch had Anais.

"Ezekiel," said
Marcus through gritted teeth, fear and utter frustration making his
hand fist. "I swear if you harm so much as a single hair on her
head, I’ll..."

The deep voice
in his ear was too soft, too silky,

"Calm yourself,
Prince. She is unharmed. I’m texting co-ordinates. Be there in
twenty minutes. Four Centuri only."

Marcus’s
growled response was a threat as well as a promise, "I’ll be
there."

Cursing loud
and long, Marcus stalked into his bedroom with his brother and
Saira hot on his heels.

"You cannot
meet with him, Marcus. We must alert your father, the council."
Saira's voice was strident as she stood right in front of him. She
had more reason than most to detest Ezekiel.

"My father and
the council are continents away. And I don't have time to waste on
a debate with you. Get out of my face, Saira."

James grabbed
his arm, spun him around.

"For God's
sake, she's probably dead already," he said.

Marcus shoved
him back, hard.

"She is my
woman!" And he'd lost her. The reality of his situation hit him too
hard. Marcus pressed fingertips into his eyes, took a deep breath,
then stared at James. "I should never have touched her!"

His brother's
jaw dropped.

"My God, you're
in love with her."

Saira's eyes
went wide as she slapped a hand over her mouth.

"Oh, Marcus,
I'm so sorry for your loss. But you have to understand, she's gone.
Ezekiel shows no mercy."

Did they think
he didn't
know
that?

A despair so
dark it nearly brought him to his knees overwhelmed Marcus.

But he refused
to give in to it.

If there was a
chance, just the smallest chance, that she was still alive, he'd
take it. If she'd perished, then he wanted her body. To hold it in
his arms and to bury her in accordance with the customs of his
people. It was the very least he could do for her. And then he'd
follow her into The Fade. After everything he'd done to her, he
deserved nothing less.

He ignored
Saira and James as he entered his closet, thrust his legs into
black combats.

Tugging a
muscle shirt over his head, he hunted through the closet for his
shitkickers.

He might be a
lawyer to trade, but Marcus Gillespie could whup-ass with the best
of them.

An icy calm
settled in his mind as it raced through possible scenarios.

None of them
good.

"It's a trap,"
said James as he stripped, changed into his gear, too.

Of course it
was a fucking trap.

Right there and
then, Marcus vowed to destroy the men that had
dared
to
touch her.

Jaw tight, he
opened the lid of a box of heavy steel. A box which held his
weapons cache.

"My Lord, ye
will no meet that Abomination."

Ian stood legs
apart, muscular arms folded across his massive chest. With his
shock of red hair and fierce green eyes, he looked every inch the
Highland warrior he’d been over six hundred years ago. The Centuri
blood feud with the Legion was a centuries old war of attrition and
who could fault them for that? Since their wives had been raped,
butchered and their offspring stolen. And that, Marcus knew, tended
to make a Centuri trigger-happy. As far as the Centuri were
concerned the only good Legionnaire was a dead Legionnaire.