Darkness Embraced (3 page)

She jerked the chemise out from under my knees, raising it. Her fingers traced the dampness at my thighs, and without thinking, I opened to her.

Those fingers slid across the lips between my legs and I gasped.

“You are a virgin, no?”

Whatever she was, it did not matter. She parted me, brushing those fingers against the source of pleasure between my legs. Her fingers circled me, sweet and slow, summoning waves of honey and ecstasy from my withering body.

I cried, albeit silently, joy and sorrow spilling down my cheeks. “Yes.”

She drew her hand away and the void returned, threatening to crush my heart.

“Epiphany,” she said, lightly touching my shoulders and coaxing me to her, “come here.”

I went as she pulled me into her lap, arms encircling me. She stood and I wrapped my legs around her waist, feeling the fall of her silken hair against my face.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, knowing full well we were moving toward the bed.

Her reply, when it came, was a whisper. “Making you mine.”

God help me, I wanted her to.

America, Present Day

The air hit my lungs like inhaled fire. No amount of practice or centuries of experience could stop this. It felt like I was dying, but I wasn’t. I was waking. Although my body protested, I knew in my mind that I couldn’t die.

I was already dead.

I tried to think past what felt like a blowtorch being held against the inside of my chest.

It was always like this at first.

Then, the hunger, that damned gut-wrenching hunger hit like a fist. I doubled over as it sang through my veins like barbed wire. My hands clawed unwittingly at the silken sheets.

Death, it was always death, baying at my heels like some ghostly hound.

The intensity of the pain was mind numbing.

A voice called from deep within my chamber, “Good evening, Epiphany.”

I turned toward the voice, gazing at the black and leather clad figure that stood stoically at the end of my bed. Vasco often dressed like he was about to attend one of those human BDSM play parties. His long hair was braided neatly in what must’ve been a hundred little serpentine braids. There were threads of silver tinsel twined intricately throughout each braid. I knew that if there had been any light in the room it would’ve reflected off each thread, making him look like some gothic fallen angel with a twisted halo.

“Vasco,” I said, voice strained as I waited for the pain to neutralize. “What are you doing in my room?”

He spread his arms out fluidly, like some bird of prey ready to take its flight. “Our Mistress calls and I obey.”

“Put the chivalry back in its little lace box.” If I had been human, my breath would’ve steadied as the pain began to mellow. As it was, my head was clearing.

I got out of the large four-poster bed. The silk sheets and silk gown I wore helped give my body an added graceful slide.

Vasco strode to the corner of the room. His knee-high boots were silent against the carpeted floor. A light sprang to life between his fingers as he lit the only oil lamp. I preferred the dark but didn’t complain. The mirror behind it sent a flickering flame dancing throughout the entirety of the room. The pain in the center of my body had subsided, but not by much. Instead of the sharp pain it had been, it was now becoming a dull and persistent ache.

I watched as he leaned his tall frame against the wall, crossing his legs at the ankles. He was waiting for me.

“Vasco…” I let the suspicion cloud my tone. “What’s going on?”

“Tonight is the night, colombina.”

I gave him a sullen look.

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?” I asked. “A dove I am not.”

His lips broke into a wide grin. The grin was wide enough to show the elongated canines curtained behind his lips. Vasco was probably the least dangerous of the Elders, at least toward me. He was also the most androgynous Elder in our clan. In the years that I had been with them, I had heard but a few that were brave enough to call him childish names behind his back. In all honesty, I think most of the male Elders envied him, for Vasco was comfortable with not only his femininity, but with his sexuality.

“You’re a dove of peace to my soul, colombina. You need to ready yourself,” he told me.

“I’ll dress once you tell me what’s going on.”

He sighed and let his arms fall down to the sides of his body.

“How she forgets this night is coming is a mystery to me,” he said talking to the ceiling.

“What night?” I was about ready to throw one of the pillows at him if he didn’t start talking. Why some of the other vampires made it a habit to be so vague all the time I’d never understand.

His azure gaze held mine. “Your challenge, Epiphany, your test.”

“Oh. After two hundred years the mind forgets,” I murmured kneading my temples with the tips of my fingers.

“Ah,” he said, “but you knew this night would arrive.”

“Did you tell her that I have no desire to become an Elder?”

His shoulders rose in a shrug. “Unfortunately for you, colombina, it does not matter what you desire or do not desire. Our Queen has given you the gift of immortality. Thus, you are obliged to stand amongst her ranks.”

“As a henchman,” I said, “and only that if I pass her tests. She will not allow us to strike out on our own.”

He pushed off the wall, quick in the way that vampires are quick. One minute they’re there, the next they’re not. I took a subconscious step back.

I hated it when he did that, when he used his speed against me. It was always a reminder. Granted, it was a very subtle reminder that there were others that were stronger and faster than me. I knew why he did it. I knew that Vasco put me in my place for a reason. It wasn’t cruelty. It wasn’t necessarily even a power play. He never told me why. He didn’t have to tell me. I just knew.

Vasco wanted to see me stand on my own two feet. When the rest of the Rosso Lussuria was either cruel or cold to me, Vasco had become my friend and in some respects a mentor. Just like any good friend and mentor, he wanted to see me succeed. Then again, the random thought that it was a lot like a mother bird shoving the baby out of the nest before it’s ready also occurred to me.

There were times when you either sank or soared.

“You know what happens to a vampire that breaks the binds of clan,” he said.

“They are declared Il Deboli,” I whispered. The Weak. Being declared Il Deboli meant that any other clan within the territory could slaughter another vampire in our modern world caught without a clan’s aid. It took extreme measures in vampire society to keep the peace. We were a selfish lot, an arrogant lot, and most vampires left to their own devices had a tendency to go on some major power trips. There was nothing that would bruise a thousand-year-old vampire’s pride more than having to share territory with Il Deboli. This was why the society was carefully established. Only the strongest and most powerful of us held a throne within each clan.

Therefore, if the need arose, each clan had a leader that could knock any naughty little vampires silly. Beneath the throne sat the Elders, which Vasco was among. The Elders were the voice of the clan as a whole. Underlings did not have much of a voice. We served those more powerful.

Ultimately, true power rested with the Queen. Yet, the Elders were granted courtly privileges that we were not. Underlings were to be unobtrusive, to go about tasks quietly, carefully keeping our eyes averted. The only time Underlings would raise their gaze was when they were directly spoken to. To do so when you were not spoken to was to challenge another.

“Sì,” he said and the sadness in his tone made my heart ache.

One of Vasco’s powers was that he was a master at projecting his emotions onto another.

Unfortunately for me, I was a master at absorbing those emotions like a sponge. Empathy, they called it, the ability to read and sense the emotions of another. If I had not already come into my power before I turned two hundred, I would not be offered the chance to become an Elder. Powers were a finicky thing; some vampires gained them and some did not. Yet, among the Rosso Lussuria, a vampire had to have power in order to protect herself. If you did not, you were automatically at the mercy of someone who was more powerful. For nearly a hundred and fifty years, Vasco’s friendship had given me a measure of protection from the Elders.

I shook my head, as if that one small gesture would shake off the emotions he’d projected.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Vasco.”

“Do what, bellezza?”

 “You know,” I said softly.

How could he not know? He, like every other vampire in the Rosso Lussuria, knew what I had once been. He, more than anyone, knew what such a trial would cost me.

“Her?” he asked.

I dipped my head.

He reclined against the wooden bedpost with a look of sympathy.

“You cannot keep avoiding her,” he said. “It has been a hundred and fifty years, Epiphany. You are in the full bloom of your powers. It is your right to take a seat among us Elders.” Things were serious when he used my name and not one of the many nicknames by which he called me.

“I know how long it’s been, Vasco. I am not unaware of the time that has passed or of my power.”

“I do not understand why you would hold on to memories that will only hinder you.”

I swallowed past the knot that tightened my throat. He didn’t understand, not completely. He knew full well what I had become when our Queen cast me from her bed. He had seen the wreckage of me, then. It had been one hundred and fifty years, and still, I feared facing her. Even with Vasco’s protection, I’d deliberately avoided her. She was our Queen and my Siren vampire. But she had been so much more to me.

Once, she had been everything.

It was rare that Underlings were forced to attend open court. So for years I had succeeded in avoiding Renata. When I did see her, a place inside me that I thought numb and empty ached beyond all reason, beyond thought. If she spoke to me, I kept my words short and politic and tried not to reveal how much merely a look from her sent my limbs to trembling.

I did not want to see her. I did not want to stand before her in open court and see the place where I once knelt by her throne.

Even now, the memories were crippling. If only I did not enjoy the rush of pain so damnably much. Well and so, Renata had cast me aside like a broken toy that no longer entertained. I was no longer her plaything, no longer the Queen’s pet…

“Epiphany,” Vasco said calling me back from the dark place of my emotions. “You must do this for yourself.”

“Get out,” I said. “Let me dress.”

“I do not desire you, colombina. You may dress in front of me.” He sat on the side of my bed with a small flourish, making himself at home.

My brows went up. “We are not one another’s type, Vasco. I know this.” I paused and added, “Yet, I also know that you want an excuse to see what is in my closet.”

Vasco’s eyes widened. I think he tried for a look of innocence, but all he managed to do was show off the brilliant blue of his irises. The Gods themselves must have personally declared that his eyes would be the blue of the clearest ocean. Poseidon, perhaps.

“Pity, pity.” He pouted a little too pretentiously. “I do look dashing in women’s clothing.”

The corner of my mouth twitched from the effort it took not to laugh. There was more than one reason Vasco and I got along.

“Damn you,” I said, laughing, “get out.”

He made it very difficult to succumb to a dark and brooding mood.

I blinked and he was suddenly on his feet. “It wouldn’t hurt to dress to kill.”

This time, there was something almost vicious in his smile.

Was it vicious or vindictive? I couldn’t tell. Maybe it was both.

“Thank you, Vasco.” I nodded in the direction of the door.

He gave a sweeping bow. “I will await you in the hall.”

I stood there for several moments, feeling the pangs of hunger, feeling the dread unraveling like some great basilisk in the pit of my stomach.

I relaxed, putting my forehead against the closet door. Vasco had said I’d known this night would come, and I had. I knew that one night she would call me to stand before her. I knew that this night would come, that I would be forced to either conquer the challenges ahead of me or be conquered by them. I would fail and remain an Underling for eternity, or I would rise above and possibly, just possibly, get a little respect from the rest of the clan. The newest vampires, most of whom were Americanized like me, were condemned to be someone’s dog for two hundred years, even if they came into their powers early. Those were the rules. Thankfully, being “undead” for two hundred years taught one a measure of patience.

The question I would be forced to answer was: In the past two hundred years, had I gained enough power to overcome whatever challenges lay ahead? Was empathy a power strong enough? I should have been happy. I should have felt eager to jump at the chance to prove myself, to become something greater than what I’d been for the past two hundred years, but that dread began flicking its little forked tongue in my ear.