Vampire Elite (17 page)

Theores pushed a remote control button and disconnected, then turned to Tor. “You see, my friend, you’ll be a prince from a fairy tale, a knight in shining armor who rescues the poor imprisoned queen from the dungeon. You will be irresistible to her. Trust me, she’ll be putty in your hands—or I know nothing about the female psyche.”

Chapter 21

Arianna was walking around her dreary cell, measuring it with her steps. She couldn’t afford another panic attack; she needed to evaluate her situation calmly and clearly, to review her options—assuming she had any.
No. Don’t think that way. There’s always something. You just have to think of it.
She’d been depleted of her powers and cut off from the outside world. It seemed that her future was to serve as bloodstock for these damn vampires. Not an appealing thought. She must act.
There must be a way out. There has to be.

Over the next few days, Arianna tried everything she could think of. First she focused on her blood-bond, trying to connect to Simone, but somehow couldn’t sense her. Maybe because she was too anxious and the blood-bond required concentration. Or was that a power that was depleted along with the others? Everything her father had tried to teach her had seemed so abstract then and was so urgent now, but her brain was foggy and his memory was so far away.
Don’t worry about it. Just keep going; try something else now and try the blood-bond again later.

So she attacked the Sekhmi with her bare hands when they came to deliver her food. She threw food at them. She bargained, pleaded, yelled and screamed. She threatened to burn them to ashes as soon as she regained her powers. It was all in vain. To the Sekhmi, her efforts were as pathetic as those of a bug trying to escape from a glass jar.

She passionately appealed to Hathor, begging for the Goddess’s help, even though she knew, as her father had taught her, that the Gods never interfere directly in the lives of their creations. Instead, like good parents, they allowed their children to find their own solutions, to escape on their own from the traps they fell into. Supposedly they believed it was important to their children’s evolution.
But how can I evolve when I’m wasting away in this cell?
she cried out to the Goddess. Of course, no one answered her.

Arianna paced the room, end to end, over and over, back and forth until she thought she would lose her mind. She counted her steps, she counted each breath, counted the seconds that passed: one one-thousand, two one-thousand ...
 

Periodically a Sekhmi would come to her room to exchange the trays of food. And that was it—the only thing that happened, ever. The silence and sensory deprivation were becoming palpable, taking shape as entities. She could see how you’d go crazy, starting to think of them as separate things with lives of their own. Surely the Sekhmi didn’t believe that air and food were all living beings needed to survive?

Days merged into nights in an endless stream of tedium. She had no idea what time of day it was or how long she had been here. She imagined being locked up in here for a hundred years. She knew, though, that it had only been a week; vampires needed their feeding approximately once a week. She found a worn patch on the wall where she could scratch marks after every time they drained her, feeling a small sense of triumph at her foresight.

And of course it happened. She thought she’d be prepared, even occasionally suspected she might welcome the interruption from the nothingness that occupied every other minute. She realized how wrong she’d been the second the door opened to admit Elora and Sef. Without a word, Sef dragged Arianna to her bed and pushed her onto it. When she tried to kick and bite him, he slapped her so hard that she saw stars and her head spun. With one hand on her forehead and the other on her sternum, Sef held her immobile on the bed. Elora tied a tourniquet to Arianna’s upper arm and inserted the catheter into her vein. When the jar was filled, and the catheter and tourniquets removed, they both left the room. Neither had spoken a word.

Pushing through her nausea, past the dizziness, she collected all the strength that had left in her and focused on her blood-bond, yelling into it
Simone! Simone! Hear me. I need your help! Simone!

Chapter 22

“I hear you,” Simone whispered.

She was receiving some sort of distress signal from Arianna, but she was so anxious that she couldn’t pull herself together to focus on the blood-bond. Dammit, what good was having a blood-bond if you couldn’t get it to work when you got upset or distracted—right when you needed it most? Although ... obviously Arianna was able to call out to her despite being upset. But it was useless, worse than useless, to know only that your blood-bond was in trouble, without knowing what it was, or what you could do about it.
 

She stopped trying to connect. What did it matter? She might die in a couple of days.
 

She would probably die, and it would be a shameful death.

Like a lioness in a cage, Simone paced her room at the Legacy mansion where she’d been placed under house arrest, trying to figure out what to do. But nothing was coming into her mind. She was powerless to do anything but surrender to her fate: the Confederation Court. Having witnessed a few sessions, she knew what her future held and it froze her blood.

The Court sessions were shameless spectacles, wildly popular among immortals, attracting huge crowds eager to see the punishments meted out immediately following the Court’s judgments. No appeals were permitted; judgment was final and punishment carried out on the spot. And there was always some punishment involved, because no one was ever found innocent in these sessions. All cases involved violation of the No-Kill law, and all included ample evidence of the crime, usually provided by the Legacy’s winged demons and their ability to sense violent death and the circumstances surrounding it. In the eyes of the Council a death of a human was a death of a human, no matter the circumstances. So guilt was established; it was just a question of degree.

As in human courts, each defendant was assigned a prosecutor, who presented the case against the accused, and a defender, who argued for leniency and described any mitigating circumstances. After listening to the arguments, the Council voted in the same style used at the gladiator shows in ancient Rome: thumbs up or down. Simple.

The Chief of the Council, who’d been elected by the Council membership, counted the votes. If the majority were thumbs down, the accused was executed on the spot to the delight of the excited crowd. That was one image Simone couldn’t escape: the idea of dying in an arena to the sound of banshee howls and thunderous applause. The condemned were decapitated with a sword in accordance with ancient customs. The punishment was swift and brutal. The heads were placed on the ground below the presidium until the end of the session, then burned along with the bodies they had been attached to.

If the majority of the votes were thumbs up, other, less severe punishment was handed down: whipping, amputation of wings, pulling out of fangs or claws, facial or body branding, or any number of others, depending on the species and the severity of the crime. Simone didn’t want to die—her life had barely begun—but imagining the tortures that could be inflicted on her if things went “well” was cold comfort.

Speaking of cold comfort, she’d been informed that her trial had become a sold-out show. Anticipating its popularity, ticket prices had been doubled, and now scalpers were selling tickets for astronomical prices. The thought disgusted Simone ... but at the same time it did sort of stroke her ego to be that popular. Or maybe it was her father? Tor had been in power for more than a thousand years. In that time he’d probably managed to create enough friends and enemies to fill the arena—friends and enemies who were here now to support him or to relish the vampire king’s very public humiliation.

At eight o’clock that night Simone and the two other accused being tried at the night’s session were provided with a dinner of their choice—a gift from the Council, as this could be their last meal. Simone had chosen Dom Perignon White Gold Jeroboam, the most expensive Champagne she could think of at seventeen thousand dollars a bottle. She was sure she’d like it just fine, but she’d mostly selected it as a small revenge, to decrease the Council’s profit from her suffering. For the meal itself, she’d opted to have Beluga caviar with lightly toasted bread; filet mignon, medium rare; fresh baby asparagus; sautéed shiitake mushrooms; and strawberries and cream for dessert.

She wasn’t really hungry, and only drank some Champagne for courage as she nibbled on one of the strawberries. She wanted to throw herself on her bed and cry, but she couldn’t do it. She was a princess, the daughter of the King, a dignified member of the Royal pride. She would not disappoint her father or be a source of embarrassment to him. She would meet her fate with her head held high.

* * *

Somewhere

She would fight her fate with her head held high.
Get up, girl.
Arianna talked to herself; she’d heard somewhere that it helped
.
 

She was going to throw up, and she
would
make it to the toilet. This was her new goal, right now.
Small victories
, she told herself. The very smallest, if that was all she could have.
 

She rolled off the bed and collapsed to the floor, her head reeling. Bile rising in her throat, she crawled on hands and knees to the toilet. She just made it before the vomit spewed from her mouth, splattering the toilet seat and the wall behind it. Then there was more, and more. Where was it coming from? She’d barely eaten! Hovering over the toilet on her hands and knees, she threw up until there were only dry heaves; her stomach had emptied. Then she crawled back to her bed and crashed into it.

Chapter 23

Simone opened the door to find Odji and Anock standing outside, each holding something behind his back like he was hiding it. Their smiles said it was something good.
 

“We’re here to escort you to the Court. But first: we brought you gifts. I hope you like them.” Odji handed her a pale blue box tied with a cobalt-blue ribbon.

Simone took it from him and removed the lid. Nestled in folds of tissue paper was what she suspected was an absolutely delectable gown. She picked it up by the shoulders and held it up in front of her. Yes, it was amazing: black silk and velvet with hand-sewn glass beads covering the bodice and neckline. Wearing black at the Court represented the unknown fate of the accused; defendants were free to wear anything they wished as long as it was black.

Simone took the box and disappeared into the bathroom, reappearing a few minutes later wearing the gown. The exquisite black silk cascaded around her like thousands of obsidian stars, shimmering with each step she took. This was a dress fit for a queen.

Both Odji and Anock dropped their jaws. Of course she knew it was deliberate, for comic relief. And she was grateful for it; Goddess knew she’d take any kind of relief she could get right now. Simone took their jaws in her hands and pushed them back in place.

“You like it ... hmm?” She smiled seductively, her eyes challenging, she hoped.

“You look stunning, Princess, absolutely stunning.”

Anock was still holding something behind his back. “You didn’t by any chance bring me some shoes to go with this gown, did you? Surely I am not to present myself in front of the Council like a barefoot peasant.” Was she flirting with them at a time like this? Was she actually aroused? Yes, she was. And like the comic relief, it was good. She’d take it.
 

“Yes, of course.” Anock showed her a second box, opening it to reveal a pair of black patent-leather Gucci sandals with four-inch heels. The sandals matched the dress to perfection. Transparent straps gave the illusion of a bare foot being an extension of the heels. Sexy, very sexy.

Dear Sekhmet, she didn’t want to die. She had so many things left to do, like wearing these exquisite shoes to a formal gala. And another thing she had to do? These guys. Now.

Landing on the corner of her king-sized bed, she pulled up the hem of her dress, exposing long legs with the musculature of a ballerina. “Can you please help me put them on?”

Odji immediately dropped to his knees in front of her. She put a bare foot on his thigh and handed him a shoe. She liked seeing him smile in anticipation, knowing perfectly well what would follow this innocent request. Having been her lover for two years now, he easily sensed the slightest nuances of her mood.

Odji took Simone’s foot from his thigh, caressing it as he placed it on his chest. He slid his hands up her shapely legs, studying her reaction carefully, his gaze deep, penetrating. Simone’s body began to tremble slightly, and she leaned back against the pillows on the bed.

“What about you, Anock? Aren’t you going to help your princess put on these shoes?”

She could read him well, too—and he made it easy for her, even cursing
shit
under his breath as he got down on his knees next to Odji and took Simone’s other foot. It was funny: he always acted like he was sick and tired of entertaining her, like he resented the fact that she could always bring out the worst in him. How did she do it? By being a
spoiled bitch
, and by not being afraid to act like one.

Like right now, ignoring the lack of enthusiasm with which he brought her foot to his lips and sucked on her toes. She’d trained them both well in how to make her scream with pleasure. Anock always seemed to want to disappear when she started her sexual games, but she knew his body couldn’t resist what she was offering even if his heart wasn’t in it. She wondered if he knew that his struggle to hold back only heightened her arousal. And it was a two-for-one deal, because it made the moment when he finally submitted to her, to his desire for her, even more delicious. It made her feel so fucking
hot
to be so irresistible to him.

The thought of being in command of these two gorgeous males sent a wave of liquid heat throughout her body.
Yes, boys, sex is a game, and this is only the beginning.
She spread her legs to let them see the apex of her thighs, the wetness she knew had soaked her panties. It thrilled her that both of them were intensely aware of her arousal. Oh yeah, they were responding just as she wanted them to: brows furrowed, eyes a little glazed, breathing shallow. Another ripple of excitement shuddered through her.