Adam began screaming. “No, Fanton. No!” His voice shrieked the words repeatedly as his body convulsed and Christian tried to restrain him.
“Adam, it’s all right!” Christian cried, knowing he’d never hold him alone. There was a crash behind them of breaking bottles that turned Christian’s gaze as he fell over Adam’s body, which was jumping with bone-cracking seizures.
A barrel-chested man with black blood covering his ripped clothes appeared from behind the shelf. Christian barely caught the smell of vampire on him as a snarl of protection leaped from his throat. It was instinctive and he would have jumped up to shield Adam, but Adam was thrashing awake with howls and snapping fangs.
“No!” Christian shouted toward Adam, choosing to harness his agitated movements, while hoping the other vampire didn’t attack. The rogue vampire looked wounded in the worst way with wild eyes as he charged across the width of the cellar, running into a boarded wall. Christian blinked, not understanding, and then the boards broke into a tunnel.
“Fanton, no, no, no, no, no,” Adam howled.
Christian slashed his other wrist and brought it to Adam’s gaping mouth.
Chapter Thirty
T
rinity felt the sweetest blood God ever created fill his mouth and he moaned with pure ecstasy. His body convulsed, bowing upward, moving the beam on top of him as though it was a stick as his fangs sank deeper. The coppery fluid saturated his mouth and he drew another hot mouthful as electric sparks of life charged through his dry veins. It was ambrosia, finer than any blood he’d ever tasted and he growled in pleasure, sucking again.
But a feeling of complete fullness clamped over him making him feel as if he took another drop he might explode. His brain knew he should need more — the few gulps could hardly be enough — but he couldn’t make himself take any more.
His fangs receded and his tongue healed tender flesh without thought. He heard a feminine sigh that caressed his mind. His body relaxed and without thinking much of it, he swept aside the beam that had lain so heavy on his chest and he felt the spike of wood push out of the wound closing on his thigh. Had he ever felt so strong or so alive? It was as though power poured through his body.
“Trinity, you moved the beam! Oh my God, you look younger or-or healthier or not so pale,” Beth’s voice exclaimed, as his eyes shot open.
Beth’s inky black hair was in disarray around her lovely face and he saw a cut on her cheek that lurched him into a seated position. He cupped her creamy skin with the intense need to heal her. He leaned close, lapping his tongue across the wound.
“Trinity, are you all right?” she whispered. She patted his chest as though to check him. “You seem better,” she murmured.
“You smell like heather on the moors.” He breathed in. She smelled like the intertwined tendrils of tangy and sweet combined, a scent he’d never tire of … never forget. He pulled her to him, embracing her. Her softness flowed into him as her arms reached over his neck.
“I was so terrified you’d not be all right.” Her breath warmed his throat. “Everything seems different, though.”
He nodded, murmuring. “I believe your blood is special. With just a few sips I feel revived like I’ve not felt since I was human.” He did feel different, completely different. He felt like he was a part of Beth. It was a good feeling.
“Trinity?” she questioned, caressing his hair. “You were so hurt and now you seem so very much better. Even the sun stopped hurting you.” She leaned back in his arms, touching his face. She traced his jaw.
“The sun is not bothering me at all. Normally it would feel uncomfortable.” He was amazed.
“You were blistered just moments ago,” she said. “Before I gave you my … “ She stopped, looking wary. Her face grew more determined. “My blood,” she stated as though daring him to become angry.
“Your sweet, luscious blood,” he murmured, turning a surprised look from her. “Blood I need very little of to be replete.”
“So you’re not mad?” She twirled the tie on his shirt, searching his face with her glistening, multi-colored eyes.
“I feel complete.” He leaned in to find her lips for a kiss. Her gossamer lips molded to his then he released them. “I think my wife is wise and I would do well to listen to her.”
Her smile was his reward. She understood his reference to her assertions he should take her blood even through the many times he refused.
“Oh, Trinity, the driver,” Beth exclaimed. “He is very hurt.”
Trinity took them both to stand with hardly an effort, shrugging off debris from the broken carriage. “And you are all right?” he asked, looking her over. She looked disheveled and smudged in places, but he could see no more wounds.
“Your blood I tasted — it healed me.” She blushed and he realized what an intimate and precious thing it was, sharing their blood.
He squeezed her waist. “From now on, Beth, my blood is yours any time you desire it.”
Beth wanted to crawl up Trinity’s tall, strong body and show him how much she wanted his blood. Something more had happened since she’d given her blood to him … when he was sucking it from her. It had been otherworldly and accompanied with pleasure so intense it was slightly embarrassing to comment on. It had been nearly as if she had climaxed through husband and wife congress. That was impossible, because they’d not been embraced in sex; however, she had to leave the wonder of it aside.
“He is over here,” she urged, leaving her answer until later. Trinity followed her, but he held her back when they got close.
“Stay here, love,” he muttered.
Beth wondered if he knew he’d used the endearment, as it felt like warm wine pouring through her. Trinity crouched by the driver, but glanced back at her as though he could read her thoughts about the endearment. In that instant, she knew he had a hint of what she’d been thinking. She was certain of it, and then he turned to the driver.
“He’ll never survive this.” His hand touched the driver’s brow. There was no response. She watched Trinity turn his boot heels on the ground, until he faced her, still crouched. “I’d never consider turning him,” he stated flatly.
She’d actually not thought of such a fate. “But your blood?”
He nodded slowly, looking grim. “It’s an unknown factor as you know. But Baptiste has had some success and most of them without the addiction you feel.” He lowered his gaze to the driver, with his hair falling forward.
“It is more than that,” she stated firmly. It was as though she had impressions of his feelings.
He didn’t look up at her as his hand pressed to the driver’s chest above his heart. “The temptation to play God with people’s lives is at once alluring as it is illicit. My brother, Christian, would remind me we are not the keepers of man’s fate — that is for God alone.”
Beth realized the heavy dilemma Trinity and his brothers must live with. Would the driver want such interference? Would he want to live craving Trinity’s blood and knowing vampires existed? Would the driver feel he’d imbibed evil and not the goodness of a helping heart? How many people should Trinity and his brother’s try to save? All of them? Impossible. What then determined which to save?
“My God,” she whispered feeling the heavy burden fill her.
Trinity stood slowly, looking at her with the intensity of his new power and it stole her breath. She knew then they understood each other without words.
“I can make his suffering end.” His voice was low and she slowly nodded, needing to share the burdens of the decision with him. He gestured toward the horses, two still caught by the tangle of carriage reins. “Go wait over there for me, Beth.”
Hours later, they rode on one of the carriage horses through the night toward London. Trinity held her in front of him with strong arms that never let her slip against the gait of the horse’s sway. She’d long since leaned her back against him, using his strength to support her. They’d spoken little since the heartbreaking decision about the carriage driver. But as they drew closer to London, she could no longer stay silent about the growing commotion in her mind.
She pressed her fingers to her temple. “Trinity,” she called into the wind under his chin. “Trinity, something is terribly wrong. I can feel it.”
She felt the horse slow to a walk beneath them and Trinity’s arm squeezed her gently in response as she felt his voice rumble against her spine. “You feel something is wrong?” he questioned.
She thought he might think she was losing her mind. “It’s in my head as if flies are buzzing in a torrent getting stronger the more we go toward London. I just know, Trinity, I just
know
something is terribly wrong with my brother and-and I think your brother, Father Christian, and maybe Baptiste too!” She’d exclaimed the last part, trying to make him believe something she was certain about, but unsure how she could be so positive.
“Beth, it’s all right.” He’d grabbed her, and she realized she was so agitated she’d nearly fallen off the horse. “I know the feeling. I have it too,” he uttered against her ear. She turned her head, trying to see past his chin. “These feelings are things my brothers and I have experienced since we each were turned. We can sense each other.”
She gasped. “How can I?” she began to question, then stalling.
“I don’t know,” he murmured against her ear. “I’m not certain how you could be feeling your brother. Perhaps our unique connection has made it possible.”
Trinity looked down at Beth, seeing the worry in her eyes of blue and green. He was amazed she seemed to have the gift of sensing he and his brothers carried. It was stunning to believe their exchange of blood could be changing them both. He knew he wouldn’t have healed as quickly or regained his power under the sun as fast if not for Beth’s blood. It was as though her blood held superior qualities existing only for him. The feeling of power was immense and unusual in its strength. Vampires had exceptional strength, sight, and hearing, but this was heightened beyond any bounds he’d experienced before.
“I think we need to hurry,” she whispered, rubbing her temple against the side of his neck.
He clasped her nape, massaging the slender column and gossamer flesh. “Think toward the inner call you hear. The more you try to ignore it, the angrier the buzzing can get.”
She nodded her head as he turned the carriage horse back to a canter. He’d not told her the things he could detect with his senses. He’d had a century and a half to perfect the connection to his brothers, but not even that explained how he could feel her brother’s agony. A familiar agony he’d felt before that left him haunted. It was the torturous suffering of a newly-turned vampire. Along with it, he felt Christian’s anguish and he knew dire events had transpired.
Trinity followed the call of anguish and torment interwoven as though the two souls were bound as one, and the trail led him to Christian’s church.
“I’ve been here before,” Beth said, turning to embrace him tightly as he brought the horse to a stop. He was surprised Beth had been to his brother’s parish. “This is your brother’s, Father Christian’s, church,” she murmured.
“How does the summoning feel in your mind now?” he asked. For him it was nearly tactile. He knew Christian was there and Adam too. Unfortunately, he knew Adam had been turned and he felt, as impossible as it seemed, it was Christian who was Adam’s sire. He just couldn’t believe it. But he set it aside, because he had to warn his wife. He couldn’t let her enter the tragic events blind.
“Trinity, I feel them both here, and in such pain,” she whispered. “I’m so afraid. Is he all right?” she exclaimed.
“Beth, Beth,” he soothed. “I have to tell you. But he is alive.”
“Tell me what?” she asked, working her way halfway out of his embrace to look up at him. “What do you know?”
“He’s been turned. I don’t know how or why. But Adam has been turned.”
“Do you mean into a vampire?” she gasped. “No, no. It can’t be.” Her head shook in denial.
He grasped her head, turning her gaze to his, just as she hissed, “
Fanton.
”
There was such loathing and disgust in her voice, but the next moment she was pushing him away to scramble down off the horse. He steadied her frantic motions, lowering her as shock lurched through him. The connection shot through him like an explosion.
Fanton. Stepbrother. Vampire.
Fanton
was
a vampire. His gaze leaped upward and he saw Christian catch a hold of Beth on the steps leading up the ornate doors of the church. How could he not know? How could he not
smell
him on her?
Beth listened to Father Christian’s words with an increasingly cold and desolate pit growing in her stomach.
“He’d not want you to see him now. You must understand. I’m so sorry, I had no choice.” Father Christian fell to his knees, clutching her hands, with tears falling down his face. Her horror leeched away beneath compassion. “Oh, my lady, I had no choice. He was dying and I didn’t think but to save him. I turned him into a vampire,” he cried.
Trinity was there, kneeling with Father Christian, holding him. She was horrified, but she knew with certainty that, for whatever terrible reasons, Fanton must have left Adam for dead and Father Christian had brought him back. She knew Fanton had done this.
She knew.
How could she revile Father Christian when she knew, were she given the choice, she would want Adam here with her, no matter what.
“Father, don’t despair, I would have done the same. I would have.”
“You don’t know,” Father Christian, uttered. “You don’t know what an existence I have sentenced him to.”
“I know,” Trinity said. “You acted with faith as you always do.”
Beth looked to Trinity. “Why is Adam in such pain? Is it really best I not see him?”
She watched Trinity help Father Christian to his feet. Trinity nodded to her. “Yes, it’s best. Your brother would not want you to see him this way. Turning is very painful, but it will ease with time and he will learn to control his new vampirism. Christian will look after him with care.”
Father Christian wiped at the dampness on his cheeks. “You have my word I will help him in any way I can, my lady.”