My Lord Eternity (15 page)

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Authors: Alexandra Ivy

BOOK: My Lord Eternity
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“Will you return to the Veil?” she abruptly demanded.
His hands moved to tenderly cup her face. “No.”
“But you said that the vampires now live—”
“This is where I belong,” he interrupted in husky tones. “At your side.”
She searched the handsome, elegant countenance that had become so dear to her. She was uncertain that she could bear the thought of him walking away and never returning. It would be as if she were losing a part of herself.
And yet, was it fair to ask him to leave his home and his people to be with her? How much would he be forced to sacrifice for their love?
“Is it allowed?” she hesitantly demanded.
He smiled deep into her eyes. “I will demand that it be allowed.”
“Does that mean you will become a mortal like me?”
His low chuckle suddenly echoed through the dusty room, banishing at least a few of the heavy shadows.
“I fear not. I shall always be a vampire. There is no cure.” He eyed her closely. “Does that trouble you?”
It should have. It seemed utterly mad even to believe in vampires, let alone to consider offering him her heart.
But as she gazed into those glorious golden eyes, she could see only the gentleman who had teased her to laughter, who had broken through her painful shell of isolation, and who had taught her that the past need not destroy her future.
The gentleman she loved.
“Not as long as it does not trouble you that I am a mere human,” she murmured with a faint smile.
“A very lovely and desirable human,” he corrected her, his hands sweeping down her neck and moving over her tense shoulders.
She shivered in pleasure, but even as she considered the audacious notion of leaning forward and tasting the sweetness of his lips, she was halted by a sudden thought.
Lucien was a vampire. An Immortal, he had called himself. Eventually she would grow old and die, while he remained precisely the same.
The thought made her heart grow cold.
“But not forever, Lucien,” she said with a frown. “I am not an Immortal as you are. I will soon begin to age.”
His countenance became a stern mask at her faltering words. “It does not matter, my sweet. I will love you regardless of your age.”
“Are you certain?”
“Jocelyn.” The golden eyes blazed in the gloom. “A vampire bonds but once. And for all eternity. What I feel for you today I will feel for all the ages.”
He had no doubt intended to comfort her with his stark revelation. To ensure that she would never doubt his commitment to her. But instead, her eyes widened with distress.
She could not claim to understand the mysterious ways of vampires, but she did comprehend the knowledge that she could never burden Lucien with a love that would be fleeting at best.
If he bonded himself to her, then he would spend an eternity grieving for her loss. It was unthinkable.
“No, Lucien.” Pulling from his grasp, she regarded him with a stubborn expression. She would rather lose him than ask him to sacrifice himself in such a fashion. At least her pain would come to an end someday. “You cannot do this.”
His brows lifted at her fierce tone. “What?”
“I will not allow you to love me when I shall be with you for such a short time. It is not fair to you.”
There was a moment of startled silence before Lucien tilted back his head to laugh with rich amusement.
“You will not allow me to love you?” he teased. “It is far too late for such a warning, my sweet.”
Jocelyn gave a shake of her head, wishing that he would for once not regard the world as a joke. This was a very serious matter.
“But I will soon die and—”
Her words were interrupted as the door to the castle was shoved open and an old woman attired as a gypsy stepped into the shadows.
“Do not be so certain what the future might hold, Jocelyn,” she warned with a gentle smile. “It has yet to be written.”
Utterly startled by the unexpected appearance of the old woman, Lucien struggled to gain his feet, only to discover he was far too weak.
“Nefri,” he breathed.
“Lucien, do not move,” the great vampire commanded, her numerous bracelets clicking in the musty air as she moved to retrieve the Medallion that had been nearly forgotten on the flagstones. Holding out the amulet, she moved to where Lucien was leaning heavily against the wall and gently pressed it to his cheek.
At first Lucien felt no more than a gentle warmth flood through his body at the touch of the powerful artifact. Then the soothing sense of peace became a fiery flood as his numerous wounds began to knit together and his damaged muscles healed. He gritted his teeth, feeling as if he had been shoved roughly into a furnace that burned from within.
At last he gave a shake of his head. “That is enough.”
Nefri pulled the Medallion away, her wrinkled countenance filled with concern.
“You are healed?”
Lucien gingerly tested his arms and legs, discovering that the most grievous of his wounds had indeed been mended.
“I believe so.”
Nefri smiled, but there was a warning in her eyes. “You will still be weak for several days.”
He gave a slow nod, already realizing that his strength was tenuous at best. Not surprising considering the wounds Amadeus had inflicted. He had been certain down in that dank cellar that he was about to face what no vampire should ever face.
Death.
A shudder raced through his body before he was sternly suppressing the dark memories. Jocelyn was right. The past was over and done. The future was all that mattered.
A future with the woman he loved.
“How did you follow us?” he demanded of the vampire.
Nefri heaved a sad sigh, her gaze turning toward the darkened flagstones.
“I felt the passing of Amadeus.”
“Yes.” Lucien grimaced with regret. No matter what Amadeus had become in his madness, he was still a brother. It would take time to heal from his tragic loss. All vampires would mourn his passing. “He refused to return to the Veil.”
Nefri turned back to lay a comforting hand upon his shoulder. “You did only what you had to do, Lucien. There was no choice.”
He smiled wryly. “In truth it was Jocelyn who managed to bring an end to his madness.”
“Ah.” The vampire turned to smile kindly at the silent woman at his side. “I did tell you that she possessed the strength necessary to wear the Medallion.”
Lucien watched the rosy glow touch Jocelyn's pale cheeks. It never failed to amaze him that she did not seem to realize just how special she was.
That was something he intended to correct. Even if it took him an eternity.
“So you did,” he murmured.
“Here, my dear.” Before Jocelyn could predict what the old woman was about to do, Nefri had swiftly slipped the Medallion back around her neck and fastened the clasp. “This belongs to you.”
The blue eyes widened even as her fingers unconsciously rose to lightly stroke the amulet.
“Oh, but surely there is no longer any need.”
Surprisingly Nefri turned to glance about the shadows that still shrouded the room. Lucien could almost sense the puzzled wariness that filled the great vampire's heart.
“Although Amadeus is gone, there are still others who would claim the Medallion,” she at last admitted slowly, her expression troubled.
Lucien could not ignore the chill that inched down his spine. He had wanted to believe that with the passing of Amadeus, Jocelyn was now safe. She had surely endured enough.
But deep within him had been a lingering sense of unease.
Amadeus may have been mad and obsessed with his studies, but he had never possessed the sort of courage necessary to defy the Great Council and Nefri herself. What had prompted him to believe he could succeed in such a foolish scheme? Or who?
“There is still danger,” he at last said in flat tones.
Nefri gave a slow nod of her head. “I fear so. I have come to believe there is more to these traitors than I initially suspected.”
Lucien felt Jocelyn stiffen at his side, and he placed a comforting arm about her shoulders.
“What would you have me do?” he demanded.
Without warning a sudden smile touched the lined countenance. “For the moment, nothing more than to remain with Jocelyn.”
“I intend to remain at her side for an eternity,” he vowed in low tones.
His words hung defiantly in the shadowed air, and half expecting an argument, Lucien was caught off guard as Nefri instead reached out to touch both of their heads in a silent blessing.
“Then all will be well,” she retorted in soft tones. “Now, we should be away from here. I have brought you a carriage. It awaits outside.”
Lucien struggled to his feet, pleased to discover that he could at least stand.
“You will call upon me if there is a need?” he demanded.
Nefri bent her head in agreement. “If there is a need.”
He glanced down at the woman who filled his heart with joy. “You will know where to find me.”
The great vampire gave a soft chuckle as Jocelyn blushed a fiery red. “Indeed, I do. May peace be with you.”
“And love,” Lucien murmured.
“And most certainly love,” Nefri repeated in benediction.
Chapter 14
The dawn had just brushed the sky with a shimmer of pale rose when Lucien silently slipped down the steps from his garret toward the bedchamber directly below his own.
It had been two days since they had fled the castle with Nefri. Two days when both Lucien and Jocelyn had been forced to battle the weariness of both mind and spirit that had haunted them. In near silence they had allowed the fretful Meg to pamper them with warm food and clucking concern. Neither desired to discuss the ghastly nightmare they had endured, instead simply sitting close one to the other and taking comfort in the fact that they were together.
This morning, however, Lucien had awakened with a refreshed sense of purpose. The dull ache had left his body, and his mind was clear and focused.
It was time to grasp the future in his hands.
A future that was entirely wrapped around Jocelyn Kingly.
With flowing steps he slipped toward the closed door and silently pressed it open. A soft glow from the window was banishing the shadows as he crossed the worn floorboards and perched upon the edge of the mattress. For a breathless moment he merely regarded Jocelyn's soft profile that lay against the pillow.
In sleep the delicate features were relaxed and the long black lashes brushed her cheeks. She appeared young and utterly vulnerable, making his heart skip with tender emotion.
How utterly and deeply he loved this woman. She completed him in a manner that stilled his restless spirit and brought joy to his soul.
Slowly his gaze lowered, halting upon the full rosy lips.
Hot, glorious passion swept through him as he reached out to lightly stroke the sweet softness of that mouth. Surely he had been patient long enough. Was it not, at long last, the time to claim her as his own?
Beneath his touch she stirred, and rolling onto her back, she slowly lifted her lashes to regard him with a bemused gaze.
“Lucien.”
“Good morning, my sweet.”
With an effort she pulled herself to a seated position, unaware that the thin linen of her nightrail revealed a delectable outline of the lush form beneath. Lucien, on the other hand, was delightfully conscious of the lovely view. It was only with a stern effort that he managed to suppress the urge to toss off his brocade robe and join her beneath the covers.
She was a human, he grimly reminded himself, and bound by human morals. Until she was his wife she would not be able to give herself to him freely. She had endured enough shame in her life without him adding to her burden.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice still thick with sleep.
He smiled as he lowered his hand to catch her fingers in a firm grip.
“I desired to discover if you are as beautiful in the morning as I imagined in my dreams,” he lightly teased. “After all, if I am to spend an eternity awakening with you in my arms, I do not wish to be unpleasantly surprised with the knowledge your teeth are false and your mood foul.”
The blue eyes abruptly sparkled at his words. It was a welcome change from the shadows that had lingered over the past few days.
“Indeed? And pray who mentioned anything of you spending the night in my bed?” she demanded.
His thumb stroked over her knuckles. “Is that not where your husband belongs?”
She stilled, her breath suddenly rasping in the quiet air. “Husband?”
Lucien regarded her closely, well aware this was the most important moment in his Immortal life.
“You said that you loved me.”
“Yes.”
“Is it not the custom for humans who care for each other to wed?”
“But . . . you are not human,” she pointed out in weak tones.
Lucien could not prevent his soft chuckle. “Yes, I know. Still, I intend to live as one and I wish to indulge in your rituals.”
There was a long, unnerving silence, and Lucien briefly feared that Jocelyn might have reconsidered over the past two days. It could not be easy to accept that he was not a mortal as she. That he was, indeed, a monster from ancient myth.
His fears were not appeased when her beautiful eyes abruptly filled with tears.
“Oh.”
His heart faltered as he leaned toward her with an anxious expression.
“What is it, Jocelyn?”
“I . . . After the scandal I presumed that I would never wed. After all, what gentleman would ever forgive my ruined reputation?” she at last said in choked tones. “Eventually I convinced myself that I no longer cared. What did I need with an overbearing husband? Or even children who could never take their place in society? I told myself that I was better off on my own.”
He gazed deep into her shimmering eyes. “And now? Do you wish to be my wife?”
“Oh, Lucien.” She reached up to cup his face in her hands. “With all my heart.”
He sucked in a ragged breath, relief surging through him with the heady potency of a fine brandy.
“Then it is settled.”
“Yes,” she murmured softly.
With exquisite care Lucien lowered his head to gently brush her lips. It was a kiss to seal their fate. A pledge of their future together. Lightly he tasted of her sweetness before reluctantly pulling back to absently toy with a dark curl that lay against her cheek.
“My wife,” he murmured softly.
Appearing flushed and utterly desirable, she regarded him with a quizzical smile.
“Lucien.”
“Yes, my dear?”
“You said that you wished to indulge in my rituals. Do vampires not wed?”
Lucien paused. There was nothing more he desired than to truly bond with this woman. To share the Immortal Kiss so that they were one. But Jocelyn was mortal. She could not possibly comprehend the sheer intimacy that would come of the sharing of blood.
“It is rather a different sort of ceremony,” he offered in vague tones.
Predictably her curiosity was instantly aroused. “What do you mean?”
He gave a slow shake of his head. “I am uncertain that you are prepared, my sweet.”
“Why?”
Clearly she would not be satisfied until he had revealed all, Lucien acknowledged wryly. Thankfully he loved her as much for her stubborn spirit as for her kind heart.
“Because our bonding is not of pretty words and pledges but of our very souls,” he explained in low tones. “We become one with each other, sharing our hearts and emotions and even our thoughts. It can be far too intimate for mortals.”
She considered his words for a moment, and then astonishingly raised her hands to touch the amulet that glowed about her neck.
“But I am not just another mortal. I have the Medallion.”
Lucien briefly considered the powerful artifact. It was true that the Medallion was subtly changing the maiden. And Nefri had implied that her future would not be that of a mere human. Perhaps it would be possible.
“Yes,” he murmured.
She gazed deep into his eyes. “I want to be one with you, Lucien.”
“There is no turning back,” he warned.
“Good.” She reached out to touch his cheek. “Tell me how.”
“We must drink of each other's blood.”
Despite her best intentions, Jocelyn could not entirely disguise her brief flare of shock.
“I see.”
Lucien smiled, covering her hand with his own. “Jocelyn, we will know when the time is proper. For now we have a wedding to plan.”
A hint of relief lightened her beautiful features. “Yes.”
“And swiftly.” He deliberately allowed his gaze to lower toward the thin fabric of her gown. That ready heat flowed swiftly through his veins. Two centuries of suppressed passion were not easily ignored. “I grow weary of that cramped bed in the garret.”
A faint color stained her cheeks, but her own eyes darkened with a smoldering need. The air in the bedchamber was suddenly thick with awareness.
“So you are wedding me for a more comfortable bed?” she attempted to tease.
“And what is in it,” he growled softly.
She shivered. “Lucien.”
He could take her. All he need do was pull her into his arms and she would readily give him all the pleasure his body ached to receive. One kiss, one touch, and she would forget all but the desire that blazed between them.
But even as the realization flared through his mind, his heart could feel the lingering hint of disquiet deep within her.
She had been branded a scarlet woman despite her innocence. And while she would never admit it, the scars still lingered. To give herself without the blessing of marriage would make her question the strength of her honor.
Swallowing a groan, Lucien was again struggling to restrain his unruly passions. Great Nefri, give me strength, he silently pleaded.
“But first there is something we must do,” he said in ragged tones.
She blinked, as if startled to discover she was not being thoroughly ravaged. And he hoped a trifle disappointed.
“Oh. And what is that?”
Lucien drew in a deep breath, knowing that he was about to destroy the magic of this moment. Unfortunate, of course. But after devoting hours to thinking of joining his life with this woman, he had realized that she was not yet prepared to put her past completely behind her.
He wanted her unburdened and able to concentrate upon their future together. A future with no barriers.
“We must speak with your parents.”
Her eyes widened as she abruptly sank back into the pillows. It was obvious that she was not overly delighted with the thought of confronting the mother and father who had turned their back upon her. Lucien did not blame her for her pained reluctance, but he could not waver. He did this for Jocelyn.
“My parents? Why?”
“My sweet, you cannot make peace with your future while you still harbor anger in your past,” he said softly. “It will haunt you until it has been resolved.”
Her lips flared at the truth she could not deny. “You desire me to beg for their forgiveness?”
“Certainly not. But neither do I desire you to continue hiding from those who shamed you.”
His heart faltered as her face became pale, and the eyes darkened with distress at his stern words.
“That is absurd.”
“Jocelyn.” His hand lifted, only to fall as she flinched from his touch. “It is one thing to willingly turn your back upon society, and even your parents. It is quite another to be forced away.”
“I have told you that it no longer matters.”
“It matters to you,” he said huskily. “You must confront them bravely and with your head lifted high. You must prove to yourself that you no longer fear them.”
She unconsciously wet her dry lips as she reluctantly considered his persuasive argument.
“Lucien . . .”
“Trust me in this, my dear,” he pleaded softly. “I shall be at your side.”
Their gazes tangled as she battled the inner dread of confronting those who had harmed her. Silently Lucien allowed her stormy emotions to wash through him and offered her back the strength of his unwavering love.
At last she heaved a small sigh. “Very well.”
 
 
The tall, elegant town house built in the Palladian style was the largest and the most beautiful in the square.
It would have to be, Jocelyn wryly conceded, as she studied the Portland stone building standing proudly behind the wrought iron railing.
The Kinglys demanded the best in everything. From their outlandishly expensive French chef to Mrs. Kingly's ivory and gold carriage to the imported Chinese roses that graced the conservatory, they would accept nothing that was not envied by others in society.
Especially their daughter.
Jocelyn had often wondered if it was her father's lack of an aristocratic title that made them so compulsive in their need to appear superior among the
ton
. They often complained bitterly enough at being seated too far down the table at a dinner and forced to mix with encroaching mushrooms. And more than once her mother had refused to attend a society function when she suspected that her sister, who had married an earl, would be invited.
Their overweening pride was all-important, and nothing was allowed to tarnish the Kingly name.
Whatever the cause, Jocelyn knew they would not readily welcome home their scandal-tainted daughter. And only the steady warmth of the gentleman at her side kept her from bolting down the quiet Mayfair street.

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