Alinar Publishing
www.alinarpublishing.com
Copyright ©2008 by Felicity Heaton
First published in 2008, 2008
Blood.
No matter where she looked, Lilith couldn't escape it. It spotted his face and arched over his jaw from the wound on his throat. It seeped into his damp blond hair, darkening the whole side of his head. Turning away, she swallowed her desire to be sick and stared at the ground. Crimson coated the grass until it glistened under the harsh sodium streetlight on the cemetery path. The acrid smell thickened the air, filled her nostrils and choked her lungs. Cold stole through her, rising up from her knees where they pressed into the wet dirt close to his body, chilling her as it swept towards her soul.
"Jackson!” Her frantic patting of his cheek did nothing to rouse him. Her rough, erratic breathing and the thundering beat of her heart filled her ears as she stared down at him. Panic consumed her. “Jackson, don't you die on me, Jackson."
His eyes opened, igniting a spark of hope inside her. The darkness of despair extinguished it when they closed lazily again a second later.
She was losing him.
"Jackson.” Lilith patted his cheek again, faster this time, a constant drumming that matched her pulse. Her other hand pressed the wad of material harder against the wound. Sticky, warm blood coated her fingers, sickening her. “Don't give up. I won't lose you!"
He convulsed and his face contorted into a look of sheer agony. A thin line of darkest red crept from the corner of his lips. Lilith held him down, restraining him in the hope of stopping him from killing himself by moving, and her eyes widened as the crimson trail eased down towards his ear.
Everything became still.
Her ears rang with it, with the numb and icy cold filling her, sending sweeps of shivers over her skin as what was happening finally sunk in.
This was no way to feel, so drained of life and welcoming death with open arms, watching for it. Not when the creature that had done this was still nearby.
Waiting.
Lilith focused again, searching for it while applying more pressure to the wound on Jackson's throat. Was it to stem the flow of blood, or the flow of hope as it left her?
There was no way she could save him.
He was pale now, barely breathing. Tears blurred her eyes, hot against her cold face. Not five minutes ago, he'd been so full of life, full of jokes that had always annoyed her for some reason. Funny how it could disappear so quickly. You thought you were strong, indestructible. In reality you were as fragile as a butterfly when faced with one of them—one of the pure bloodlines.
A low laugh sent a shudder through her.
She knew what it found so amusing.
Jackson was dead.
Lilith closed her eyes, touched his cheek as a goodbye and prayed that he had found a better place on the other side.
Picking herself up, she shut down the side of her that said to throw herself over his body and cry her heart out for him, and for her own loss. She had a job to do. He'd understand. It had been his job too.
She stood and stared down at him. The world seemed strangely blue and quiet. Cold. He looked peaceful lying there on the grass, darkness shrouding his body while the streetlight crowned his head in golden light.
Almost angelic.
Her gaze fell to her hands as she brought them out in front of her, palms facing the heavens. She frowned at the dark liquid coating them and then at the torn sleeve of her shirt. So much blood but she felt nothing as she stared at it. This was no time for mourning. She could do that later. Right now, she had business to attend to.
She wiped her hands on her black combat trousers and then retrieved her wooden stake from the grass.
A breeze.
A sigh.
The world blurred as she turned on a pinpoint and blocked the vampire's attack.
It grinned at her, teeth sharp and eyes bright, challenging her to make a move. She knew what it wanted. It wanted her to run, or scream, or at least give it a good fight before it finally killed her. It was playing with her.
Well, she wasn't about to play with it.
This man, this thing, was going to die for what it had done to Jackson.
It turned and the streetlights caught its eyes, making them flash like mother of pearl. She gave no quarter, turning with it and keeping their arms locked. Its weight pressed against her and she pushed back, her eyes never leaving its. It could throw her if it wanted to. It was far stronger than she was.
That smile it wore wasn't fading. It was beginning to unnerve her. It curved the vampire's face, cutting across it in a sinful line that exposed the points of its bloodied teeth. Jackson hadn't stood a chance.
She didn't stand a chance.
Neither of them had ever fought one of the pure bloods. Those that did rarely survived to tell the tale. She'd never heard of anyone managing to kill one.
Before she could blink, it had disappeared and she stumbled forwards from the release of pressure against her. She turned sharply in all directions, panic guiding her movements, and then forced herself to slow down. Her senses reached outwards into the inky night, desperate to locate the vampire so it couldn't attack without her noticing.
The early spring breeze tousled her honey hair, sending a shiver dancing down her spine as its cold fingers worked their way under the hem of her black shirt and into her collar. When she faced Jackson, she sniffed back her tears and tried not to look at him. This was no time to lose focus, or she'd be joining him in the afterlife.
Something shifted.
She tensed and then relaxed when it didn't move again.
The graveyard was quiet. Too quiet.
It could only mean one thing. The vampire was stalking her. It had slipped into the shadows to watch her. She could feel its eyes on her, touching her, studying her. It was looking for a weak spot, a momentary drop in her defences when it could slip in and kill her with a single move. Her heart thumped hard against her breastbone at that thought and she steadied her breathing in an attempt to slow it down. Panic made her hands shake and her body threatened to join them.
Her fingers flexed around the stake several times. It did nothing to soothe her nerves as she'd hoped. If she didn't calm down and regain her focus, she didn't stand a chance. The vampire would be able to sense her fear. It would drive it on. It would make it hungrier for her blood. She had to do all she could to maintain control and a steady heartbeat. Only then would she have the slightest chance of killing before she was killed.
Doubts crept in at the corners of her mind, sending the edges of her thoughts black and sinister. She pushed them away, not wanting the distraction that the memory of seeing Jackson killed was bringing, and not wanting to lose her concentration by imagining herself suffering a similar fate.
No one, not a human and definitely not a vampire, was going to bite her neck.
Ever.
She frowned into the distance where the darkness swallowed the trees and nothing but the night reigned. She had nothing to fear. An elite hunter had no fear.
Her training had been the same as Jackson's and the rest of her company, except she'd always excelled where they had merely passed. She'd taken the rank of elite hunter three years earlier than expected. She was one of only a handful to hold that title.
She could defeat this vampire.
She would win.
She had a gift.
Her eyes rolled closed and she released her breath, emptying herself. Her hands came up in front of her, close to her chest, her stake held steady in her right and her left joining it. Her heart rate slowed to a steady beat and her blood rushed through her veins. There was such strength in it if only she'd be brave enough to embrace it.
Her soul surrendered to the call of the night.
The world blackened.
Lilith didn't need to see the change to know it happened. Everything felt different. The air tasted metallic, like blood. The rising of her instincts made her senses razor-sharp and sent painful throbs down her spine from her aching head.
She could only hold this for seconds or she'd fall into the darkness she could feel encroaching at the corners of her soul.
A few seconds would be enough.
A flicker of movement and she could see the world through her closed eyes. Silvery threads outlined everything, scribbled onto the darkness like rough chalk drawings on a blackboard. She saw the trees sway in the breeze. She saw Jackson. She saw death.
Her eyes shot open and she gasped at air to save herself from drowning in the shadows. It filled her lungs, burned them and her blood. She ran regardless.
She ran straight at the vampire.
One hand on top of the stone sarcophagus was enough to vault her over it and she landed with precise grace on the other side, right beside her quarry.
Her hand came down in a blurred arc, so fast that the vampire couldn't fully evade her attack. She missed the heart as the vampire dived to the side. Her stake caught its shoulder, scraped hard against bone. The vampire growled and then roared at her. She flipped backwards before it could attack and gave herself over to the fight, letting her instincts guide her as her senses locked onto the vampire. She could almost see its movements before it made them, a ghost of it shone in her eyes.
Except time was running out.
The lingering effect of her gift would soon disappear, leaving her to fight without these sharpened senses.
She would be vulnerable.
She would be weak from calling on her gift.
That was the price.
She cart-wheeled away, still gripping the stake. The moment the vampire closed in, she stopped and swept her leg around in a fast, hard kick, grunting with effort. The vampire laughed and slid to the side, away from danger. Before she could put her foot down and attack again, it had hit her in the chest with a kick of its own, sending her flying backwards into a tombstone.
Her breath left her on impact, a red hot bar across her back marking where she'd hit the heavy stone. She needed a moment to recover, only she didn't have one. The vampire was on her before she could blink and she was barely able to block it. She crossed her arms against its chest, holding it off her.
It snarled and snapped its jaw.
With each gnash of its teeth and each millimetre closer it got to her, her heart accelerated, until it was racing so fast she had trouble breathing. Adrenaline mixed with the panic coiled deep inside her. For the first time in her life, she could taste death, could see it coming, and it had red eyes and sharp teeth, and a mane of black tousled hair. It bore down on her, its body pressed hard against hers, trapping her between it and the headstone.
Lilith clutched the stake, hands trembling as she weakened.
The vampire growled.
There was no chance of escape, but blind panic and a will to live forced her to try.
She pushed with all her might, shoving her left hand against the flat end of the stake as she drove it forwards.
The vampire sprung backwards the moment the stake made contact with its shoulder. She didn't give it a chance to escape. She threw herself at it in a last ditch attempt to be the victor in this deadly dance.
She tumbled to the floor with it, wrestling for control. The world blurred and sped by. The pain of the vampire's blows barely registered in her tired body as she struggled to keep it away from her neck and get her stake against its chest. The noise was deafening—the rush of her breathing, the snarls of the vampire, and the harsh pounding of her heart.
Then silence.
She was on top.
Her stake plunged deep into its chest.
Her gaze locked with his.
It was a man now in her eyes.
He was breathing, fast gasping breaths. His eyes were wide, wild, as he clawed at his chest and the wooden shaft protruding from it.
She pulled the stake out and stood, looking down on him, watching him die. Her body shook from the adrenaline and the exertion. Her fingers loosened and the stake fell to the grass with a soft thud. Exhaustion surrendered to shock. She couldn't believe it. She'd killed it. She'd killed a pure blood.
His eyes rolled closed and then he began to disintegrate as time raced to catch up with him. Before a minute had passed, he was nothing more than ashes scattering in the breeze.
Lilith swept a hand over her sandy blonde hair and sighed.
It was over.
No, it had only just begun.
She'd never heard of a vampire of the pure bloodlines travelling into this area. There had been reports of hunters meeting them in London, but never out here, so far from the capital. She'd only ever fought vampires from the weaker bloodlines.
What had he been doing out here?
She remembered the flash of his red eyes. A Vehemens? The violent. The last she'd heard, they rarely ventured outside Scandinavia. All the stories had been of hunters encountering vampires from the other bloodlines—the Caelestis, Aurorea, and even sometimes Venia or Validus. Never the Vehemens, Tenebrae or Nocens.
So what had brought him here?
She frowned at the patch of dust that represented him now. Maybe she should've asked him. Her superiors weren't going to be pleased. A pure blood in her area and she'd killed it without any attempt to extract information.
A shiver bolted up her spine and she rubbed her bare arm.
The report was going to be hell to write.
What was worse, a voice at the back of her mind was screaming that what she'd done tonight was going to have repercussions. The pure bloods didn't take lightly to hunters killing their kind.
Leaning over, she picked up her stake and pocketed it. Her dark eyes scanned the cemetery, searching the shadows for any sign of danger. The moon broke free of the clouds, illuminating even the darkest corner and chasing the shadows away into the trees. Nothing came to her. It was silent and empty. It filled her with cold and dread.
Her gaze fell to Jackson's body. The pain she'd been stifling all this time broke to the surface.
She would have to file a full report on his death too. How could she write what she'd seen? Jackson hadn't stood a chance. The vampire had torn his throat open before she'd even sensed its approach. She'd had no chance of saving him, not even with her gift.
Her heart ached to see him lying on the grass, motionless and cold. It could have easily been her in his place. Would he have managed to kill the vampire? It didn't bear thinking about. She had survived. Jackson was dead.
Lilith walked towards him and her knees buckled when she reached his side. Their impact with the dirt sent pain shooting up her spine and jolted the tears from her eyes. They dashed down her cheeks, turning into freezing streaks of ice as the wind blew against them.
She let them come, no longer able to hold back the surging tide of her emotions and needing to get them out of her before she returned to the compound. She couldn't let the others see her like this. Reaching into her pocket, she pressed the alarm button on her phone. It would trigger the GPS back at base and send them to her. She had fifteen minutes to gain control of herself. She would need every second.
Her hand found Jackson's and she held it, not caring how cold it felt in hers, or the way it made her feel as though she was touching death itself.
The sobs started out slow but built until she was gasping at air, her throat tight and chest aching as she stared down at Jackson's peaceful face.
She couldn't let them think she was weak.
She was the strongest they had.
Jackson would tell her that if he was still alive. He'd always told her that. He'd always been there for her, getting her out of scrapes and protecting her.
She'd failed to protect him.
Leaning forwards, she rested her head against his still chest and closed her eyes. Silence engulfed her as she lay with him, her mind empty. The night called her. She always felt this way after she'd used her gift—close to the darkness, at one with the shadows. She didn't understand the words drifting around her head or the tugging sensation in the depths of her heart. She felt the meaning though. It wanted her.
She curled up.
It couldn't have her.
She was a hunter.
The elite.
She killed those that heard the call of the night.
She killed any vampire she came across.
Nothing was going to change that.
Lilith trudged into the mansion house, desperate for the solitude of her quarters. The team had arrived to find her standing beside Jackson's body, all sign of her emotions wiped from her face. She had given them instruction to take him back to the compound and had then told them that she would walk back. The thought of travelling with Jackson's body in the back of the van had been unbearable. The night had offered her so much comfort, the darkness hiding her feelings from the world, and she'd taken it all. The walk back had been long and had given her time to regain true control of herself.
Only now, she was walking the halls where they'd once walked. It was a painful reminder that only one of them had returned, while the other lay in the morgue below her feet.
No one ever spoke of the morgue.
It was as though by never mentioning it, they could make it go away, make all the deaths of their friends disappear.
"What happened?” A sharp voice snapped her out of her thoughts and she found she was standing in the entrance hall staring down at the floor, seeing straight through the solid stone to the cold grey morgue below.
Lilith raised her head, looked Daniel in the eye, and then turned away. Her throat was too tight to speak. If she tried, she would lose what little control she'd regained and would start to cry again. She'd never lost a friend on routine patrol before. She hadn't lost anyone since her sister.
He caught her arm before she could pass him, stopping her dead. She knew better than to break free of his grasp. As her superior, he commanded her respect. Her hands came up in front of her and she stared at her palms, at the dried and cracked blood that still coated them. Nausea swept through her, cramping her stomach, clenching her heart. Numbness followed it, stealing away the sickness until she felt nothing. It was so hard to breathe. Everything was so hard. She was too weak from the fight and the drain of controlling her emotions.
"Jackson. Son of a bitch got Jackson,” she said, voice steady and showing no trace of the turmoil inside of her. “We didn't hear it coming. I didn't feel it."
She stared into Daniel's green eyes. The amount of concern in them surprised her. He gave a sympathetic smile, causing crow's feet to surround his eyes. When had he become so old? He seemed so grey now when before he'd always been the young man she'd first known when she had been a child. She looked around the hall, wanting to avoid his questioning gaze. Everything seemed so grey and different.
"It was one of them, a Vehemens,” she said. “What in God's name is one of them doing around here?"
Daniel didn't look at all shocked by her news. His expression remained unchanged and he removed his hand from her arm only to place it lightly on her shoulder. She frowned at the strange sensation that filled her—something was wrong.
"Did you kill it?” he said.
"Of course.” She went to move past him again. His hand tensed, gripping her shoulder and stopping her. She sighed. “Daniel, I really need a shower and bed. Can't the debrief wait until morning?"
"It can, I wouldn't want to make you talk about what happened until you're ready ... but ... I need to speak to you about a contract that just came in."
Her right eyebrow rose. It had been a while since Section Seven had been contracted by anyone. They were rare and required only the elite hunters.
It piqued her curiosity and almost made her agree. The ache inside her overruled it though. It had become a dull throbbing and she knew that warning well enough. She was close to collapsing from fatigue.
"Can't that wait too?” she said, hopeful.
"I don't think the client will wait any longer."
Her eyes widened. “They're here?"
"They've been waiting all night for your return,” he said. “I know this isn't the best time, but it has to be now. It can't wait."
Staring into Daniel's eyes, Lilith could see that he wasn't going to budge on this. She had to meet the client tonight. He was right. It would be rude to keep them waiting until she'd had a chance to get some rest and she didn't want to blow her first contract.
"I'll clean up first if that's okay?"
He nodded. “He's waiting in my office."
She watched Daniel walk away. He? She wondered what kind of problem they had as she walked. Someone was in the first bathroom she came to so she carried on along the hall until she was near the cafeteria. She avoided going in. By now, news of Jackson's death would be spreading and she didn't have the energy to meet her client let alone field all the questions people would have. A couple of men from her company walked out of the room. She dived into the nearest bathroom, desperate to hide from them. Locking the door, she pressed her back against it and stared at herself in the mirror.
She looked like hell.
Moving closer to the mirror, she gingerly prodded the cuts and bruises on her face and arms. The vampire had done a real number on her. At the time, she hadn't noticed. The adrenaline and shock had taken all feeling away. Washing her cuts, she stared into her brown eyes and thought about what had happened tonight. Why hadn't she sensed it? Normally she could sense vampires before they got within twenty metres of her. Normally she was fighting weaklings.
Were those of pure blood really so superior?
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she didn't need to check it to know it would be Daniel. She finished making herself look more presentable and then stared at her torn shirt. She couldn't do anything about that.
Stepping out of the bathroom, Lilith hurried down the hall. She turned the corner that led to the commanders’ offices and bumped into a woman from her company.
Her eyes fell to the woman's black jacket. “Can I borrow that?"
The woman hesitated for a moment, looked her over with a raised eyebrow, and then peeled the jacket off. “Important meeting, huh?"
"You could say that. Do you know about the client?"
"I heard someone arrived ... walked in through the door with the section chief from London ... but I didn't see him."
Lilith slipped the jacket on and buttoned it up.
"Thanks for the loan.” She waved idly and walked away, her thoughts now firmly fixed on her client. A man that had arrived with the section chief. Whoever he was, he had to be important to garner that kind of escort.
Reaching Daniel's door, she rapped her knuckles against the mahogany and waited.
"Come in.” Daniel's muffled voice drifted through it.
She paused, needing a few seconds to gather herself and push her fatigue and feelings to the back of her mind, and then opened the door and walked into the large office.
Directly in front of her was a heavy mahogany desk. Daniel was leaning against it with his arms folded and a wary look on his face. The tall curtains of the office's two windows framed him. They were drawn. She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was nearing six in the morning. The sun would be rising by now. It was unusual for Daniel to keep the curtains drawn against the sunrise.
She sensed her client's presence. He was sharp, focused, watching her and studying her movement across the room. There was something familiar about that.
She stopped in front of Daniel. Worry had joined the concern she'd seen in his eyes earlier. He knew she wasn't in the mood for this meeting. If he hadn't been so insistent, she would have continued to refuse his orders until he backed down. His words, however, had made it clear that this client was important and he wasn't one to wait any longer for an audience with her.
Her eyes roamed the room, seeking the man out. They scanned along the packed bookshelves and their leather-bound tomes. They found him masked in the shadowed recess to the side of the bright fire. Darkness shrouded his face and obscured his figure. Her senses spoke to her.
Here was a dangerous man.
Here was one who demanded respect and commanded power.
"Lilith, our client,” Daniel said behind her.
The man stepped forwards and the warm firelight instantly chased the shadows from his face. He was young, handsome in a way that had her staring. In fact, she couldn't take her eyes off him. He ran slender fingers over his short black hair and then around the back of his neck, drawing her attention to it. She frowned at the scars there. Bite marks? Was he a victim of a vampire attack? Her eyes darted to his mouth, absorbing the gentle bow of his lips, and then rose to meet his.
His dark eyes met hers and a shiver of recognition bolted down her spine and sent alarm bells ringing in her head.
His mouth became a thin line and tilted into a cruel smile, one that fitted him perfectly.
She'd been wrong.
He wasn't young.
His appearance betrayed his age.
Here was one older than she'd ever met.
Lilith stepped forwards, defiant in the face of him, and reached for her stake.
Anger rose inside her and everything faded until there was only him.
He was no victim.
He was a murderer.
"Vampire.” She sneered, assuming a fighting stance.
He growled and she felt that command deep in her soul.
She refused follow it.
To drop her stake would be to leave herself open to attack.
"Lilith!” Daniel said, his hand on her wrist making her tense. He lowered it for her.
She looked at him, stunned. Her eyes slid warily to the vampire, her anger not abating. How had he fooled her? She'd thought him nothing more than a man. She'd found him attractive. Her stomach rolled with that thought. Only the darkness in his eyes had betrayed him and lifted the veil from hers.
"Mr. Lincoln is our client."
She glared at the vampire. He had a name.
They'd never had names before.
They'd been nameless, faceless demons for her to eradicate. Now there was one whose name she knew, and for some terrible reason, it made him seem more human.
The vampire smirked, a challenge, the same as the one in the cemetery had issued her. She amused him. He meant to provoke her.
"I am not working with it!” She flung her arm around to point at the vampire at the same time as she turned to face Daniel. There was no need to look at the vampire to know he was glaring at her. The heat of it caressed her skin until she was burning wherever it touched. She shook the feeling away, and the attraction she'd felt towards him, and focused with all her effort on Daniel. “For all we know this could be bullshit. It could want to drain me dry."
The vampire snorted contemptuously, as though that was one thought that would never cross his mind.
"I'm being serious."
Daniel just shifted position, folding his arms across his chest and giving her the impression that her tirade had fallen on deaf ears. The only one paying the remotest of attention was the vampire. Her eyes roamed to him against her will. A brief glance was all it took to see he was still standing in the same spot in front of the fire, staring at her with intense dark eyes. She told herself that look wasn't making her body burn. It was anger and the fire.
A sigh drew her attention back to Daniel.
When she looked at him this time, she could see that he wasn't happy. She frowned at the floor. The section chief from London had brought Mr. Lincoln to this place to meet with her and Daniel. Daniel had as little choice in this matter as she did. The vampire had cleverly gone over their heads and left her superior powerless, unable to get her out of this mission.
Her eyes narrowed on the vampire. He smirked and nodded. If he'd had a hat, she swore he would've tipped it. Her fists clenched and she wished to God that she could wipe the smug look off his face. Taking a deep breath, she clawed back a little control. He wasn't going to provoke her. He didn't frighten her. She was going to find out what this contract was about and then do everything she could to either get rid of him as soon as possible or get out of it.
"So what do you want, vampire?” she said, striding up to him until she was close enough to see he wasn't breathing.
He was very old then, and he was powerful. At this range, she could feel the power radiating off him, sparking her senses and making her instincts kick into gear. They told her to run. She stood her ground.
"It is a pleasure to meet you too, Lilith,” he said in a mixed accent. There was a lot of English in there and an equal amount of European too. If she had to guess, she'd say he'd spent a lot of time in Scandinavia and wasn't a weakling.
"What bloodline are you?” Her tone was nothing short of venomous. Her eyes searched his, trying to discern whether he was going to lie to her or ignore this question too.
He straightened to his full height and looked down on her.
"Vehemens."
That one word made her stomach drop and broke the restraints that had been holding her anger at bay. Before she could stop herself, her hand was around his throat and she was forcing him backwards towards the fire. She growled in frustration when he planted his left foot against the cast-iron fireguard behind him, effectively stopping himself from moving, and yanked her hand away from his neck.
It went straight for the stake in her pocket. She grabbed it and lunged at him with it. He caught her wrist and twisted it until she had to kneel in order to stop him from breaking her arm. His eyes darkened. Her heart sped, fear saying he was going to attack.
He surprised her by releasing her the moment her knees touched the floor. She was back on her feet before he could move, the stake still held firmly in her hand.
"Lilith!” Daniel stepped between them, his hand on her shoulder forcing her backwards. She moved farther away and pocketed her stake to show him that she wasn't going to attack again. He went back to his desk. She glared at the vampire.
"Bastard!” She spat it at him with as much hatred as she could muster. “It was your fault wasn't it? You're the reason they were here!"
He looked confused, a trait she'd not witnessed in one before. She hated him even more for it—for attempting to look human by reflecting such emotions. She had no doubt that he knew what she was talking about. It couldn't be chance that two Vehemens had arrived in her city in the same night.
"I wish to discuss the contract in private with you.” His words were calm, measured.
Her attack hadn't shaken him in the slightest. The idea of that made her feel weak and fatigue crept in again as she remembered watching Jackson die. She'd been powerless then, and she was powerless now.
"Discuss it in private all you want, but I'll still have to write it all in my report anyway, and everyone will know. Hell, I might post on the bulletin board that you're a vampire and sit back and watch the show.” She hoped that her words carried all the spite behind them. It was childish, but she wasn't about to make anything easy for the vampire. If she couldn't attack him physically, words would have to do.
"Lilith,” Daniel warned again. She sighed and ignored him.
"Why do you hate my kind so much?” the vampire said. It caught her off guard.
She stared at him, knowing that she looked like a rabbit in headlights and that she needed to recover herself before he realised that he'd rattled her.
"You seem very driven to hate us ... to kill us."
Her eyes never left his. She held his gaze even as the barrier around her heart came back up as swift as a dart, shutting out his attempt to peer into her innermost thoughts and feelings. She wished she could shut out the pain as easily. She turned away from him and walked to the door.
"Come with me,” she said and stepped outside the office.
Lincoln stared at the open door and the hall beyond. He frowned, dark thoughts stirring at the back of his mind and plaguing him. A glance at her superior told him that he wasn't pleased with the way his subordinate was acting. She seemed headstrong and wilful. Perhaps a little too wilful.
"She openly detests my kind,” Lincoln said, getting the superior's attention. In his world, a superior wouldn't tolerate such behaviour from one below him. He had never tolerated it. “Are we going to have a problem?"
The man looked thoughtful. “No. Today has been hard on her. She'll work with you as agreed in your contract with us."
"I would like to know one thing."
"And that is?” The man pushed away from his desk and walked around it to sit in the plush leather chair.
"Why does she hate vampires so much?” Lincoln said with another glance towards the door.
He could feel her waiting in the hall, knew that she would be able to hear him. She hadn't answered his question, and he needed a reply. The idea that she would hate him contradicted everything he'd been told.
The man sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Her sister was murdered by a vampire,” he said and then looked at the open door, “and tonight Jackson was killed. He was Lilith's closest friend and he died at the hands of a Vehemens."
Lincoln frowned. That explained her outburst. She was probably right. Not many of his bloodline lived outside the safe houses scattered across Europe or the family mansion in Oslo. The Vehemens had been here because of him.
"I think it's understandable that she should hate your kind ... you.” There was so much anger in the man's voice, so much loathing and disgust in his words. He'd never realised the extent of the humans’ hatred towards his species. With hatred like this directed at him, he was glad that only the hunters knew demons existed. “No one here is going to welcome you with open arms ... no matter how much you pay our superiors."
He gave the man a dark look, matching his glare and tipping the balance in his favour. The man looked away, turning towards the closed curtains. Lincoln turned towards the door and reached out with his senses, focusing them on the woman. Lilith.
Had they been wrong about her?
Could one so fixated on destroying his kind truly save him?
Lilith couldn't believe that this was happening. In her own compound was a vampire. A vampire!
The only thing worse than that was the fact he was her client.
What sick and twisted joke was this? It was the last thing she needed after Jackson's death. This place, her home, was supposed to be her sanctuary from the demons. Here, she was meant to be able to find peace. Now it felt too small, too packed with people, and a vampire was shadowing her.
Her hand hovered over her pocket, over her stake.
She scowled at the vampire.
He stared back at her with intense brown eyes, calm, relaxed and utterly unfazed. His pose as he leaned against the wall outside Daniel's office, his expression, everything about him said that he didn't fear her. She was no threat to him.
Hunters turned the corner. All men. Seven of them. They stopped, stared, grouped together to regard the vampire with suspicious eyes. It was only a matter of time before they figured out he wasn't human. She watched the exchange of looks between them and the vampire, curious to see what would happen.
It began as a quiet string of murmured comments among the men and grew into a restless moving as they jostled each other, provoking one another, trying to make one step forward.
Her gaze flicked to the vampire. He seemed wholly unbothered by this on the surface. Her acute senses said different. She could detect the faint threads of his underlying tension and anger, and the incredible restraint that controlled them.
One of the men stepped forwards and twirled his stake, his air cocky. Lilith expected the vampire to move. He didn't. He stared straight at the man, facing him, neither retreating nor attacking. He was holding his ground. She wondered why. The boys would be dead in seconds if he chose to attack. It would be a blood bath and no one would be able to stop him, not even her.
Why didn't he?
They were taunting him enough, provoking him unduly considering that he was a client. She realised that was why the vampire wasn't attacking. They would drive him from the compound if he did. They would revoke her services. He was clever.
Whatever this case was, it was of great importance to him, enough that he would only tell her the details and that he would endure the impotent threats of the young hunters.
"Mr. Lincoln,” she said, stepping forwards. Her eyes met the men's, every one of them, and she made sure they saw her anger at their actions.
They backed off, the one in front slipping his stake away as he gave her a look that was a mixture of disgust at her actions and shame at his own.
She watched them walk away, all too aware of the vampire's eyes on her. They set her skin aflame as they trailed over her, called to her soul and begged her to look at him. She tightened the cords of her restraint, locking away the words of temptation her heart whispered. He was a vampire. He was a demon. She killed his kind. He murdered hers.
"Come with me.” Her tone was deadly, laced with all her anger over the death of her sister and Jackson, and all the others she'd seen in her lifetime.
The corridors were growing quiet now. Most of the hunters in the mansion would have turned in for the day, would be researching, or would be in the cafeteria for breakfast. Lilith led the vampire to a meeting room and opened the door. She didn't hold it for him. She was too tired to play the chivalrous host, especially to a demon.
"So what's the problem?” she said again, hoping he'd answer her this time.
He moved a good distance from her, his eyes still trailing fire over her body. She wished that he'd become ugly the second she'd recognised him for what he truly was. He was still handsome, barely thirty in appearance and tall, and powerful enough that she feared him to a degree.
Not that she was going to let him see that.
She took a seat at the long mahogany table. He continued to stare at her. Patience wasn't her strong suit. If he didn't talk soon, she was going to get physical. Right now, she didn't need this. She wanted a hot shower and a long dream free sleep. Tonight's patrol was one she didn't want to replay in the vivid Technicolor of her dreams.
The vampire walked around the table and drew out the seat opposite her. He slid into it. His forearms rested along the length of the chair arms, his hands dangled limp over the ends.
"You do have a problem, right? That is why you've hired us? Although I can't see why a vampire would hire a bunch of vampire hunters ... unless you're that desperate, or this has something to do with humans."
"Neither. Sorry to disappoint those wild theories that are most likely running rampant through that pretty head of yours."
She inwardly cringed at the reference to her looks. He clearly didn't know he was only making the situation worse and increasing the likelihood of her attempting to stake him. Her fingers traced the shape of the stake in her pocket. It was a nice fantasy. Something told her she wouldn't stand a chance against him though, at least not in her current state.
"It is a delicate matter."
"Ah. Your girlfriend dumped you and you want us to stake her?” She whipped the stake in question out, hoping to get a reaction from him. His eyebrow rose. He didn't even flinch.
"Again, nothing as simple as that.” He smiled, a real one this time, with no trace of malice.
He leaned further back into the chair and crossed his legs. Her gaze traversed his face, taking in his arched lips and straight nose, and stopped when her eyes met his.
She couldn't look away, no matter how much she tried. She was a prisoner in her body, powerless to break the trance she was slipping into. Was this a vampire power? If it was, she'd never heard of it. She fell into the darkness of his eyes. It didn't panic her as she felt it should. The blackness around her was soft, encompassing her in a cool featherlike embrace that made her want to close her eyes and breathe a sigh of relief. She found herself reaching out to it, wanting to touch it in return, and then pulled away. The room came back and she was staring at him. Her eyes narrowed into a glare. How did he make her feel so drawn to him, as though he was calling to her?
Clearing her throat in an attempt to look as though she was in control, she told herself that it was just the lingering effect of using her gift and nothing more.
"So, what is it?” she said.
Lincoln uncrossed his ankles and pushed back until he was balancing on two legs of the chair. What did he tell her? The truth? Deep inside, the voice that had kept him safe these past few months, his instinct, whispered to him to hold back and not tell her everything. She didn't need to know every detail in order to help him. If he only told her a fraction of his problem, then he could test how resourceful these vampire hunters were.
Lincoln let the chair come forward with a snap and immediately stood. The woman jumped but recovered quickly. He studied her a moment, listening to the steady drumming of her heart, and then walked towards the windows. The curtains were drawn. He closed his eyes and reached out with his senses. It was already daylight outside.
Turning back towards the woman, he regarded her again. She seemed too young to be an adequate fighter, and definitely too young for the role fate had assigned her. He was beginning to get the terrible dark feeling that someone had been wrong. His life rested in the hands of this slip of a girl? What was the world coming to?
Clasping his hands behind his back, he returned to his chair. He pressed his palms into the bar across the backrest and frowned.
"I have a problem with a ... prophecy of sorts,” Lincoln said, still deciding how much she really needed to know. The less he told her, the safer he was from her superiors, but the harder it would be to convince her to help him.
He reminded himself that she didn't need convincing. She had to work with him. He'd paid handsomely to have her protect him.
"A prophecy of sorts?” she said, amusement ringing in her words.
He wasn't in the mood to be made fun of. If she started pushing, he'd have to push back and put her in her place.
"A potential apocalypse.” He watched her closely, interested to see what her reaction would be to that.
She leaned back and smiled, twirling her honey blonde hair around her finger as though she were a child.
"And you're involved?” she said and her smile became a smirk. “And you expect me to help."
"I do."
He could feel her words coming and knew what they would be.
"What's to stop me from killing you and getting out of this crappy assignment?"
They were brave words from one in her position and he could see straight through them to the underlying fear. Her superior was right. It was asking a lot of her to make her work with him. He could do nothing about that. He had as much choice in the matter as she did. She had to help him. The alternative didn't bear thinking about.
He managed a laugh.
"Kill me?” he whispered more to himself than to her. His eyes met hers again. They were darker brown now, near black as she glared, still toying with her stake as though it was going to protect her. “You can sense my strength, and I yours. You are too weak to fight me and your superiors would have your head."
She huffed and stood, distancing herself by walking across the room to the windows. For a moment, she looked as though she was going to open the curtains, and then she carried on walking until she was heading directly for him. His guard went up, his senses sharpening as best they could without him changing. He didn't need to frighten her by shifting guise to reveal his true self. That wouldn't get him anywhere.
"Do you have any other information besides the fact that you're some player in an apocalypse?” she said, moving close enough to him that he could smell the mixed scent of blood on her.
Hers was a sweeter, lighter scent that the heavier male blood trampled all over. He was tempted to move closer to her, to try to catch a sniff of her elusive smell. He remained rooted to the spot.
"Not just an apocalypse, Miss Lilith. The outcome will not merely affect vampires. Humans will die too. It is everything and everyone that will pay should you fail to protect me. I am speaking of an apocalypse of biblical proportions."
Her face paled as he spoke those last words and all her strength seemed to leave her. She sat down hard in the nearest chair and stared at him as though she was having trouble believing what he'd said. Her heart was racing. It knew that he was speaking the truth.
"You're really not kidding, are you?” she said and then suddenly changed, switching from a lost little girl to the hunter who had attacked him in her superior's office. “What's this got to do with me? Why get us involved?"
Lincoln sat down again, close enough to her that he could still easily monitor her heartbeat and read her feelings in it, but far away enough that she had no chance of successfully attacking him.
"It was hard to find you. It took many weeks, which means that time is growing short,” he said.
"Hard to find me?” she whispered before looking incredulous. “You mean you asked for me specifically?"
He nodded.
Her face crumpled in despair for a moment before a look of pure hatred twisted her features. He could sense the rising of her instinct and the anger inside that was fuelling them. His thoughts during his journey here were right. She wasn't going to help him willingly. Would this work if she didn't? The details he'd been given were sketchy at best. Maybe they had been wrong.
"This sucks,” she muttered under her breath.
She leaned forwards and cradled her head in her hands. His eyes drifted to her neck. They traced the gentle curve and caressed the milky satin skin. She was as pale as he was. Her position clearly had her sleeping all day. He smiled to himself. She slept all day and went out at night to hunt and kill. They weren't so different really. She'd never admit that of course. Humans were so stubborn and ignorant.
"I'll need more information to give to the research team."
That jolted him out of his reverie. He blinked to clear his mind of thoughts of her neck and the call of her blood.
"Research team?"
"Yes.” Her expression asked if he was crazy. “I'm a hunter Mr. Lincoln, not a researcher. It's necessary to have a full team investigating and looking into the books."
He took a moment to consider what she'd said. She didn't look like a researcher and, in London, they'd told him she was an elite hunter. He equated it to an elite guard of his kind. They were reserved for only the important missions. He doubted that she hunted each night with the lower ranks.
Still, the idea of more people knowing of his problem was disturbing. In reality, he'd only wanted to come here and wait, to avoid at all possible costs his fate, knowing she would save him. Unfortunately, he'd had to give her superiors in London a reason why he needed the assistance of a vampire hunter and her in particular. Mentioning there was potentially an apocalypse on the horizon and handing them a large sum of money seemed to have placated them.
"I do have something,” he said, not bothering to answer her request to allow a team of researchers to work with them. She'd make that decision regardless of his input. “In fact it's the best lead that I have, only I have been a little busy to follow it up."
At this stage she didn't need to know that the ‘little busy’ he'd mentioned was the fact that he'd been relentlessly pursued across Europe.
"And what is that, Mr. Lincoln?"
"Lincoln. Vampires don't have such titles. I shall call you Lilith so we are equal in this matter.” He ignored her raised eyebrow and how unimpressed she looked by his correction and suggestion. If he had to work with her, he couldn't have her calling him mister all the time. It would drive him insane. Besides, there was something strangely appealing about having her call him by his name. It seemed intimate on a dangerous level, but her irritated look was too priceless to resist forcing her to adopt a similar level of informality. If she wanted to be troublesome, he would make things hard for her too. “It is something I overheard my lord speaking of many months ago when all this began. Afterwards I saw the parchment that dictated my future. It was a pact, a contract. I only saw the title."
She gave him an expectant look.
He wouldn't disappoint her.
"Spiritus Diabolus."
Lincoln stared at the ceiling. Sleep evaded him, chased away by the thousand screaming heartbeats in his head. He clapped a hand over his eyes, wishing to shut the world out. The blood of every human in the building still called to him.
None more than Lilith's.
He focused on it as it beckoned him, a strong steady melody in his ears, a siren song. His eyes slipped shut behind his hand and a smile teased his lips as he reached out with sharpened senses and listened to her moving around the small apartment. She was muttering to herself about the heat. It was hot in the building. Everyone's blood was rushing close to the surface, their hearts working overtime to cool their bodies down. It only made them more alluring.
Shifting his focus, he listened to the clanging of metal on metal far below him. Someone was trying to fix the boiler. Its malfunction was obviously the cause of the temporary heat wave.
Lilith cursed again from the other room, loud enough this time that he would've heard it if he'd been human.
Her heart thumped rhythmically, pounding in his blood and telling him to go to her. Neither of them could sleep. Perhaps they could begin researching, although it would probably be unwise to disturb her now. When her superior had told her to share her apartment with him, and that his safety was maximum priority, she'd looked as though she'd been chewing a wasp. Her superior had been right. She did despise his kind, as did everyone here. Common sense told him to leave before someone got it into their head to attempt to kill him, and not just make idle threats. His heart said that he had to stay. He had to know if she really was the one.
Sitting up, Lincoln stared at the closed door of his room. On the other side was Lilith. She was moving around the kitchen of the small two bedroom apartment. The modernity of this area of the mansion was a strange contrast to the more in-keeping look of the area he'd first arrived in, with its large rooms filled with antique furniture and old paintings. This wing seemed to act like a dormitory for the hunters. Were all the apartments like Lilith's or was hers special? Perhaps hunters shared them. Had she shared this apartment with her dead friend or her sister? His focus shifted back to Lilith as she moved again. He could sense her fatigue. It gave out a call to his instincts, telling him she'd be easy prey in her current state. It was hard to ignore such instincts even when he had to.
It had been near impossible to stop himself from killing those hunters this morning.
Lincoln frowned when Lilith stopped dead and sniffed. Her change in emotions was abrupt and would've been unreadable had he not known her recent history. The death of her friend was upsetting her—a death that he was responsible for. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't have bothered him. His kind had to feed, and had to protect themselves. A vampire hunter was the perfect target for sport and a good meal, and it meant there was one less in the world when you were done. Yet it bothered him now. He didn't want to consider the reason why.
Getting up, he walked to the door and opened it. Lilith was in the kitchen side of the living room now, busying herself in some vain attempt to pretend he wasn't here, that he hadn't heard her crying, and by the looks of things making tea. He studied her, amused by the way the oversized grey t-shirt swamped her and the loose black jogging bottoms trailed on the floor. She'd tied her golden hair back into a high ponytail. The tips of it brushed her neck. He dragged his eyes away from it and raised them to her face. She looked tired, her face drawn and pale.
He glanced at the coffee table and saw it spread with books. She must have gone out to get them during the short hours of sleep that he'd snatched. Now the sun was growing close to setting and its sway over him was less. Soon night would fall and it would be almost impossible to ignore the lure of the cacophony of heartbeats.
Aware that he was dressed only in his black jeans, he walked with head held high into the kitchen area and leaned against the counter near her.
Her eyes darted to him and then away again. They didn't make it as far as his face. They'd only reached his chest. He smiled internally at this small victory over her. Since their meeting this morning, she'd been a hellion, refusing to work with him and making sure that he knew how much she hated him. She wanted to make things difficult for him and he was more than willing to show her what a pain in the backside he could be to her. Besides, it was interesting to see a human's, a hunter's no less, reaction to a vampire, especially when they couldn't kill them. The temptation to push her to breaking point just to see what she'd do was overwhelming and a wonderful way of alleviating his boredom.
"You can't walk around my place like that or I will lock that door just like I threatened.” She frowned at him, her eyes managing to make it to his this time.
"Why not?” He challenged her, leaning back a little and planting his palms against the counter so his muscles tensed. She did a good job of resisting a look. He could see that she was curious.
"It's...” She swallowed, pensive and still frowning beautifully.
"Distracting?” he suggested with a smirk.
"Off putting,” she said, deadpan and glaring.
She moved to the sink and filled the kettle before putting it on. Lincoln watched her, silent and motionless. The way she moved around was entrancing. Strength laced her natural grace. It spoke of it to him, telling him that she believed herself a force to be reckoned with. Maybe she was in human terms.
"Shouldn't you be asleep?” she said.
"I could not sleep.” He moved closer to her, leaning against the tall cupboard next to where she now stood waiting for the kettle to boil.
"Vampires have sleepless days?” There was a playful note in her voice that he hadn't expected. She seemed surprisingly relaxed around him now. The trace of fear he'd detected in her this morning was gone.
"More often than you think when we are hungry,” he whispered, his eyes caressing her throat.
"Never going to happen,” she said without even looking at him.
Her senses were acute if she'd detected his intent without having to see it with her own two eyes. There was something different about her. Perhaps she'd been modified like some of the other hunters he'd encountered recently. Since the Law Keepers’ report that humans had been playing god, they'd met more genetically altered hunters. They'd killed every one.
She filled her mug, removed the tea bag and went to move past him towards the lounge area. Her eyes strayed to his torso again.
He tensed his muscles for her and she quickly looked away. Either she was a prude, or it was because he was a vampire that she didn't want to look at him. He hoped it was the latter. It would be fun to prove to her just how curious she was about his kind. Her eyes strayed again and he waited to see what she'd do this time. She stood there, gaze furtively taking in his body. A dull ache settled in his chest, followed by another in his gut. Temptation whispered to push her now while he had the chance.
"Have you ever been curious? Come now, you must have been curious to know sometimes.” Lincoln held her gaze when it darted to meet his. She looked wonderfully innocent and clueless. It didn't fool him. She understood what he was saying. He stepped away from the cupboard and towards her. “What we feel like, what it feels like."
"Never!” There was such defiance in her voice, such vehement denial. He might have believed it if she'd managed to keep better control of herself. Her eyes betrayed her. They strayed to his chest for a split second.
He grinned, enjoying this game. It was time to up the ante.
He trailed his fingers across his bare chest.
"I know you want to feel it.” His senses locked onto her heart, revelling in the staccato rhythm it had adopted. A rush of adrenaline entered her blood, sending the scent of it into the air through her overheating flesh. She was either embarrassed, or his words held some truth and she wanted to touch him. Another push. “Just reach out and touch. I can see the questions in your eyes, Lilith. Is it cool, hard? Would you feel a heartbeat? Would I feel your touch, feel pain if you scraped your nails down it ... feel pleasure?"
Her cheeks blazed and her eyes widened. She went to turn away. He was beside her before she could move, his hand tight around her wrist. He couldn't let her get away when it was just getting interesting.
Taking the mug from her other hand, he placed it down on the counter away from them, his movements slow so he didn't draw her attention away from his eyes. He drew her towards him. Her fingers shook in his. Her breath trembled uneasily, quivering with her racing heart. Her dark eyes fell to his chest and she slowly wet her lips with the bare tip of her soft pink tongue. He stared at her mouth, mesmerised by the motion of her tongue against her lips, and then snapped himself out of it.
This game was turning dangerous for them both. It didn't matter. He couldn't stop now.
He had to see what would happen.
"Surrender to it,” he whispered, voice smooth and convincing.
Her fingertips barely grazed his skin and he was on fire. His eyes half closed as he absorbed the sensation of her warm caress heating his body. He hadn't expected this. He clawed back a modicum of control, telling himself this was just a game to annoy her, to make her feel weak. It shouldn't make him feel this way.
Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated as she stared at her fingers where they traced patterns on his chest. She was lost. He could smell the hint of arousal, the alluring pheromones coming off her.
He breathed in a voice of temptation, “Imagine what it is like to kiss me."
Her gaze burned him, trailing fire over his body as it rose to his mouth. He stared at hers, imagining the silky glide of her lips against his and the brush of her tongue, the warmth of her.
"Imagine what it is like to be kissed by me.” He smiled to reveal his extended fangs.
She jerked her hand away and then shoved him hard in the chest. He laughed. She stormed off into her room. A small cream table lamp took the brunt of her anger. It hit the wall not five feet from him and smashed into pieces, raining down on the kitchen counter. He'd expected her aim to be more accurate.
Lincoln forced his teeth to recede and listened to her tramping around her room. What was she doing? Was she looking for something else to throw at him? He didn't know why she was angry with him. All he'd done was play a vicious game as she had been. Only his game was different. Instead of being designed to show her how much he hated her kind as hers was, it was designed to show her how curious she was about them and how tempting they were to her.
She walked back out of the bedroom.
He froze and stared at her.
The only trouble was she was becoming tempting herself.
The rose-coloured camisole hugged her upper body to the point where imagination wasn't necessary. It emphasised her breasts. They swayed as she moved towards him, free of a bra to restrain them. Dark blue jeans were moulded to her legs, revealing their slender shapely form. Her small feet were bare, her toes painted a sultry black.
She neared him and he raked his eyes back up her. They didn't make it to her face. She made sure of that. Her fingers skimmed across her chest, gathering the sheen of sweat there until it beaded against her skin. He swallowed. She stopped close to him, not three feet away. He couldn't take his eyes off what she was doing. The sensuality of it only heightened his desire for her, his want to take her and her blood for his own. He curled his hands into tight fists of restraint. It didn't stop his desire from rising. It was no use. He was captivated. She had turned his game against him and triggered thoughts that he shouldn't be entertaining. What they spoke of was forbidden. It was a sin to want a human.
He licked his lips and stepped towards her, still mesmerised by the motion of her fingers on her chest. A single drop of moisture slid down over the arc of her breast and into her cleavage. His lips parted in fascination and he looked at her. She smiled, all innocence laced with seduction. This was a cruel game to play with a man.
Another step.
She moved before he had time to react, reaching into her back pocket and pulling something out.
His eyes flicked to it.
A stake.
He leapt backwards.
She didn't attack.
His own weakness hit him with tremendous force. She'd lured him in and had drawn her stake before he'd even known what was happening. If she'd been serious about staking him, there was no telling what might have happened, but there was every possibility she would have hit her mark.
"Next time you try something, I will be armed, and I will kill you,” she said, voice dark and lethal.
He raised his hands, in control again. “Touché."
She slipped the stake into her back pocket and walked towards him. His eyes followed her and he turned as she passed him, unwilling to show her his back. She grabbed the waste bin and pushed all the pieces of the lamp into it.
"And you owe me a new lamp."
Lincoln stared at Lilith's back, cocking his head to one side. Just below her neck and between her shoulder blades was a black tattoo. He stepped closer to see it better as she picked up her mug of tea. It was a sun surrounded by pointed rays and inside the circle of it was a crescent moon.
She turned to face him and sipped her drink. It had to be cold by now.
His little game would have seen to that.
In the end, he wasn't sure who the victor had been. She'd touched him and he'd seen in her eyes that she was curious. It didn't seem to go beyond that. Her scent had only shown a tiny sign of desire. If she'd been a vampire, she would have easily noticed the change in his own scent. He'd wanted her. Looking at her now, he still wanted her. The moment he'd laid eyes on her, he'd admitted to himself that she was attractive for a human. She called to him on some base level where he wasn't master.
There was no way he could act on the attraction he felt though. The law was there to prevent such trysts between vampires and humans, unless he intended to kill or turn her. He had to uphold the law regardless of his situation. If he survived this, he would face trial for conspiracy against his bloodline. He didn't need to add any more sins to his list or he would lessen his chances of making the Law Keepers release him rather than execute him.
"Are you even listening to me?” she said with such an air of irritation that he realised their game still had her flustered.
He wondered if she felt as flustered as he did. Did the hunters have laws to prevent such relationships too? He doubted it. Humans seemed a lawless race.
"From the look on your face, I'm guessing no.” She placed her mug down on the counter and glared at him. “I think we need a few ground rules, or I'm going to end up killing you before this assignment is complete."
He denied his urge to laugh at what she'd said. Laughing at her when she was already angry with him was going to get him nowhere, no matter how ridiculous her idea of being able to kill him was.
"What like?"
"First, no walking around my apartment naked."
Lincoln looked down at himself. “I fail to see that I am nude. Half nude perhaps, but not nude."
Lilith frowned and narrowed her eyes into a look that might have killed him if he'd been close enough. “Second, I need a reason not to lock you in your room during the day."
"Other than the fact I could just pull the door off the hinges or kick it down?” Another sour look met his question. “Are you afraid I am going to attempt to kill you?"
"I'm afraid you're getting ideas above your station, demon."
He raised an eyebrow at her tone. Snide and derisive. It sounded familiar. She sounded like he used to.
"Speak to me in that way again, and I will show you who is inferior.” His eyes switched to red for a moment, enough to give her a reminder of just what she was dealing with. There was only one reason he hadn't killed her yet, and that was because she might be key to his own survival. If she hadn't been, he would've turned her into a delicious meal the first time she'd insulted him by grabbing him in her superior's office.
She walked past him, evidently choosing to ignore his warning.
"I mean it. You're surrounded by humans and they're unlikely to ignore you. It's our calling to kill creatures like you. The treatment the men gave you this morning was just a taster. What's to stop you from killing them next time?"
The only thing stopping him from killing them was himself. He realised any other demands she might have were just padding to draw his attention away from how important this one was to her. She was worried about her friends and with good reason. He wouldn't think twice about killing any of them, anyone but her, unless it meant that she would take her services away and leave him vulnerable.
Could he honestly say what she wanted him to say? If pushed, he would push back. Instinct and years of training made him see her kind as below him, as nothing more than fodder for his species. She was asking something of him that he didn't know if he could do. He could only try.
He swallowed his pride and the bitter taste of his thoughts. To promise her this would be to lower himself, and that was something he wasn't used to. His heart rebelled against the idea.
"I will make a pact with you,” he said in a clear voice full of conviction even as his instinct told him to kill them all, to revel in their deaths and force her to help him.
"Your terms?” She seemed so confident and calm. There was a sparkle of victory in her eyes.
She had taken him down, kicked out his legs, bound his hands and forced him to submit to her, and all it had taken was the idea that she would turn her back on him and leave him to face his terrible fate alone.
"You will protect me ... and in exchange, I will give you my word not to kill any member of this compound.” Those words were easier to say than he'd thought they would be.
A smile bowed her dusky lips. “Agreed."
He frowned and watched her moving around the apartment, gathering a black shirt from where it lay draped over the back of the dark brown couch and then checking a crossbow that sat on the coffee table beside the books.
She'd agreed incredibly quickly. He'd thought she'd protest to the idea of having to protect him. She'd accepted his terms without a moment's pause. He only wished he could accept hers so easily. This feeling of weakness and his reliance on a human sickened him. He needed to feel strong again.
"Where are you going?” he said when she put the crossbow down, checked her stake was in her back pocket and then started putting her boots on.
She looked over at him, dark eyes still sparkling with diamonds and her smile.
"To hunt,” she said.
No wonder she sounded so happy. He stared into the distance as he remembered what it felt like to hunt—the rush, the thrill, and the beauty of violence. He'd always been happy when he'd been going out to hunt. A vampire hunter had to feel something similar.
"I would be interested to see you hunt.” He moved to block her path to the door.
Her wide eyes spoke of shock. It soon gave way to something else. She held her head high and looked him over, assessing him. What was going through her mind?
"Get dressed then,” she said with a half smile. “And I'll show you just what hunters are made of."
Lilith's muscles screamed in protest as she tried to push herself that bit harder. It was too much to ask of her tiring body. There was no way she could keep running at this pace. It was too fast.
Lincoln was edging away from her, taking the lead now.
She'd valiantly kept up with him, wanting to catch the demon before he did for the sake of her pride as a hunter. It was impossible. He was relentless and showed no sign of stopping or slowing.
The dark clouds above surrendered to the pressure of their load and heavy rain fell, drenching the pavement and road, and turning the grass embankment slippery in an instant. She ran onto the path and pushed on, not wanting to admit that she was beginning to slow down. She could continue. She could keep up with him. It wasn't about the demon anymore. It was about Lincoln being better than her.
She hated that.
Even with her gift and her natural strength, even though she could outrun any hunter in Section Seven, she couldn't beat him.
He had to be tiring now, surely? They'd chased the demon across the city and no one, not even a vampire, could keep running forever.
Stopping dead, she keeled over and grasped her knees.
A vampire hunter definitely couldn't.
She breathed hard through burning lungs as her body shut down, shrieking with pain. It was useless. She couldn't go on.
He'd won.
Closing her eyes, she fought to level out her breathing. Her throat was sore and tight, her chest wheezing with each lungful of air she dragged in and exhaled.
"The demon is getting away.” Lincoln didn't sound as though he was mocking her. Her heart said that he was. The matter of fact tone he'd adopted didn't hide his underlying thoughts behind those words. He knew he'd won. He'd bested her when she'd brought him out on a hunt with her to prove her strength and superior skills.
"Let it,” she rasped through a sticky throat and dry mouth, dying a little more.
It took all the energy she had left just to raise her head and look at him.
He towered above her, black hair slicked by the rain and forming spikes against his forehead. Droplets raced down his cheeks to his chin and fell to his chest. His clothes were soaked, sticking the black t-shirt to his chest and making her think of this evening.
She couldn't believe that she'd touched him. Worse than that, she'd wanted to. His words had been so convincing, making the temptation rise in her until she'd no longer wanted to resist it. She'd wanted to feel him and know all those things he'd whispered.
"I could go on alone,” he said and again there wasn't a trace of malice in his voice.
He seemed to be enjoying the hunt, and it didn't seem to bother him what he was hunting. She'd dispatched a weakling vampire with all the grace, speed and skill she'd wanted to show him. The fight had been short, but not as short as his one against another weakling.
He'd killed it with one blow.
It had taken seconds.
Then the demon had shown up and she'd seen her chance to show him that she was better than him.
Only he'd beaten her that time too.
He'd outrun her and he didn't even look as though he'd broken a sweat. Did vampires sweat? They probably didn't.
Straightening, she peered into his dark eyes. The light was bad, sickly yellow sodium that did nothing to illuminate his face. She didn't see any sign of fatigue though.
"Aren't you tired?” she said and then wondered when she'd fallen onto such easy terms with him. A part of her said to rebel and treat him as she had when she'd first met him. She was too tired to go through with it. Maybe tomorrow she'd give him hell again.
She hadn't realised how close he was to her until he shifted slightly. He was barely three feet away. It compounded the strange notion she'd come up with earlier in the night. He was always close to her. Was it his need for protection driving him to stay so near, or something else? His desire for her blood? He hadn't hidden that back at her apartment. He'd bite her if she let him, of that she was sure. This was different though. It was as though he couldn't leave her side, as though they were one and the same. She didn't like that thought. It made her stomach turn and made conflict ring in her head.
Her gaze fell to his hand. The angle of their bodies made it close to hers. There was strength in those large hands and long fingers. She'd felt it when he'd held her wrist and seen it when he'd killed the weakling.
Her hand shifted to her pocket where she kept her stake, and she went rigid and alert as a noise broke the silence. Down the road, a man crossed over to the other side. She slumped back into a more relaxed position and lowered her hand. Lincoln moved a step closer and her attention was with him again. He looked thoughtful and then shrugged.
"I am certain that I will need a good stretch come tomorrow night.” He laughed and she noticed his extended fangs. They glistened in the streetlight, capturing her attention until she was staring at his mouth. Would it hurt?
That thought shocked her and she backed away a step, distancing herself from him as though that would rid her of the things going around her head.
"I know what you are thinking,” he said.
Her heart hammered at the idea he might, that any cocky comment he was about to make might actually be true.
"You do?” Her voice shook.
"They take a while to get used to when talking,” he said and relief filled her, swift and calming. “There is a lot of bloodied tongue at first ... not that that is a bad thing."
The idea of that should have repulsed her. She knew that. For some reason it didn't sicken her to the extent she'd thought it would. She frowned and rubbed her temples. This was all getting horribly complicated and she was beginning to lose perspective.
He was a vampire.
She killed vampires.
That's all there was to it.
She hated his kind. He used hers as food or for amusement and then food.
Her heart whispered a reminder that he wasn't just a demon now, not to her. He'd somehow made himself almost human. She was beginning to forget what he truly was. He was starting to become something other than an enemy.
Her eyes fell to his mouth again and the sight of it stirred thoughts she'd been trying to repress all night—his teeth, his lips, his kiss.
His fangs receded, shifting back into normal teeth, and he flashed a winsome smile.
"The demon?” he said in a voice that sounded distant to her ears.
"Let it go."
What was happening to her?
She was still staring at his mouth when her senses screamed of danger. Her instinct kicked in, her training taking over. Her hand shot to her stake. She turned to face their attacker.
The man that had crossed the road changed in front of her eyes. In the space of a heartbeat, he'd sprouted a curling pair of horns and tattered leathery wings that beat the air. Razor-sharp teeth cut across his widening mouth and scales erupted over his body. The demon unleashed an ear-splitting shriek that had her desperate to cover her ears.
Another heartbeat and it flew upwards, out of her reach, heading into the darkness.
It had taken Lincoln with it.
Lilith didn't need this. The heavy rain seeped into her eyes, blinding her and slowing her down as she ran. It froze her skin, sapping her remaining strength. She pushed on, tracking the demon and desperate not to lose it.
Vaulting over a low wooden fence, she followed it across the field and realised she was heading towards the river. She had to get it down before then. If she had to run to the nearest bridge, she'd lose both the demon and Lincoln.
She gritted her teeth and forced herself to run faster. Her eyes scanned the pitch-black sky until they found the demon. She was closing in. It gave her the strength to keep going.
Another glance at the sky revealed that Lincoln was fighting the demon. It had him around the waist and they were facing each other. She couldn't make out anything else. They were too far away and the weather was too poor.
She really wished she'd brought her crossbow now.
She'd made a pact to protect Lincoln, and she couldn't turn her back on him. Duty dictated that she do all she could to rescue him from whatever it was that had him. She'd never seen a demon like it before. One moment it had been a man, the next it was a child of the Devil.
Her eyes flew wide when the demon gave another cry and Lincoln plummeted through the air and hit the ground hard. He lay on his back, splayed out and motionless. She ran to him, her knees hitting the dirt the moment she was beside him.
He coughed, sending a trickle of blood down his cheek, and suddenly she was seeing Jackson again, dying right in front her.
Panic propelled her, sending her heart racing harder. She couldn't lose another one, not even if he was a vampire. She'd sworn to protect him, and now she realised he really did need someone to do that. Whatever this prophecy was he was involved in, it wasn't a joke or an attempt by him to get close enough to drain her dry. It was serious and she believed Lincoln when he said it wasn't restricted to vampires. The demon circled above, released another loud shriek and disappeared into the gloom. She got the feeling that wasn't the last she'd seen of it.
"Lincoln!” She pressed a hand to the left side of his stomach and wished it were lighter in the field. They were near the fence but the streetlights that lit the walkway beyond it were barely reaching them. They did nothing to help her vision. Was it blood on her hands or just the rain? Was he injured?
The fear and anxiety she'd felt last night returned, choking her and making it impossible to breathe. She had to get control and calm down. Lincoln wouldn't die from such wounds. He was a vampire, not a human. He wasn't human.
"Lincoln?"
His eyes slowly opened to reveal darkness. There was such a black look in them, so much anger and violence.
"Are you hurt?"
He pushed her hand away, discarding it as though he hated the feel of her touch. She withdrew, bringing her hand to her lap and frowning at him. He looked so cold, so different from the man he'd been not a second before the demon had attacked.
"Where is it?” he said, tone low. His eyes scanned the distance.
"I don't know.” That was hard to admit, both to him and herself. She'd been so distracted by checking him that she hadn't kept track of the demon. An elite hunter shouldn't have made such an elementary mistake.
Shutting her eyes, she focused on the night. Her instincts rose and sharpened. She still couldn't pinpoint the demon, not even when the night began to call to her and she saw the world in silver threads through closed eyes.
Lincoln moved and she opened her eyes to look at him. He stared at her, his eyes piercing hers with a look she couldn't interpret, and then got to his feet and began running.
She pushed herself up off the soaking grass and followed him. Had he sensed the demon?
Her own senses sparked and she turned sharply to face the way she'd come. The demon swooped towards her, faster than she could evade. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a silent scream. The next thing she knew, she was on the floor with someone covering her. It was Lincoln. The metallic tang of blood laced her senses. Hers or his? It was all a blur.
His bodyweight stopped bearing down on her and she got to her knees. He didn't look impressed. He looked angrier than ever.
"Stay down,” he growled and then left her again.
Stay down?
She folded her arms and scowled at his back as he ran into the darkness. Who the hell did he think he was, telling her what to do?
The demon swooped overhead again and she ducked. It went straight past her, heading for Lincoln.
A cold feeling stole into her heart.
He was insane.
She was on her feet immediately, sprinting in the direction he'd run. He couldn't fight that thing alone. She had to help him. She skidded to a halt and considered what she was saying. The truth was ugly and she didn't want to face it. Lincoln was her client and that was all this was—a need to protect her client. She'd promised she would. Only it wasn't that pact driving her, she could see that now.
Pressing her hands to the sides of her head, she buried her fingers into her hair and squeezed. What the hell was wrong with her? This couldn't be happening. It had just been a strange and taxing couple of days. If she'd been feeling her normal self, he wouldn't have affected her so much. She hated vampires. She hated them. She hated him.
She kept telling herself that, hoping to chase away the confusing thoughts that collided in her head until the point where she no longer knew whether she was coming or going. She screwed her eyes shut and screamed as loud as she could, not caring whether someone would hear her. She wanted these feelings out of her. They were impossible. It was ridiculous. She had to get them out of her. He was a demon. He wasn't human, no matter how much he looked or acted it. He was a killer.
The voice inside whispered that she was a killer too.
No, she wasn't. His kind weren't alive. They murdered humans unscrupulously, using them as nothing more than a walking blood bag to snack on. She killed to protect her species from such a fate. She was good. He was evil.
The line was becoming blurred, and she knew that the more time she spent with him, the harder it was going to be to distinguish between good and evil. There seemed to be a degree of both in him.
She screamed again, long and as loud as possible, desperate to feel her normal self.
A thought surfaced from the gloom of her mind, stopping her mid-scream and shining there like a beacon of hope.
Taking her hands away from her ears, she stood perfectly still and stared into the darkness. Her senses were still sharp. Her gift was growing. She'd noticed that the more she used it, the longer it lasted without her falling into the darkness.
Her focus settled on the two signatures in the distance. Both demon.
It was hard to keep still, to ignore her instincts as they begged her to go to him and help him. If he were dead, truly dead, then she would be free of all this pain and confusion. She didn't want it.
It felt so wrong though, to stand there and listen to the fight, and to know that she was leaving Lincoln to die when she'd sworn to help him. He had to die. She couldn't live like this. She wanted to hate him so much, and it seemed the more she wanted to hate him, the less she could.
He screamed.
Her heart cried in agony and her senses pushed her to move. She made it a step and then regained control. This was wrong. She had to do it though. A tear slid onto her cheek and she caught it on the tip of her index finger and brought it away. She frowned at it. What did it mean?
Another followed it and the cold feeling inside her began to grow. The night called her, commanded her to help him, to go to his aid. The summons was strong, tugging at the depths of her heart and pulling more tears free.
She couldn't do this.
She felt so weak.
It was making her crazy.
Another cry of pain.
Something rose inside her, smashing the part of her that said to stand firm, until only three words rang in her head.
Go to him.
She ran, as fast and as hard as she could, until her legs threatened collapse and she couldn't breathe.
Go to him.
She had to do as it bid her. She had to protect him, regardless of her own confused state of feeling.
Go to him.
The darkness grew inside her until it began to eat away at her soul. She welcomed it, not understanding why it didn't frighten her today. It was something she needed to keep her going; it was forcing her to do as her heart wanted to and not what her weak mind was telling her.
Her hand slipped into her back pocket and she grabbed her stake. It was going to be of little use against such a demon, but it was all she had. She arrived in time to see Lincoln hit the demon with a lotus kick across the head. The demon stumbled and all it took was a left hook from Lincoln to bring it down. The acrid smell of blood was everywhere. She refused to let the memories of Jackson's death flood her mind. She had to stay strong.
Lincoln was on the demon, knees pinning its arms to the grass. He punched it repeatedly, so hard that she was sure that its skull would break.
She took a step forwards, driven to help. Lincoln roared at her. It sent a shiver through her body, a command that she wished she didn't understand. This was his fight.
Stepping back, she placed a little distance between herself and Lincoln. He beat the demon, unrelenting and grinning all the while. A tiny flicker of fear ignited in her heart. She backed off another step. In his current state, Lincoln was unpredictable. Her senses were no longer screaming at her to help him, they were screaming at her to run away. It was just as she'd thought on first seeing him.
Here was a dangerous man.
He stood with one foot on the demon's chest. A sneer twitched his lips, revealing his fangs. He pressed his other booted foot against the demon's jaw. The demon grabbed it. Lincoln shoved his foot forwards.
The snap of its neck was sickening.
Lilith looked away. Her stomach rolled.
Lincoln laughed. It chilled her heart. The sound filled the night sky, a twisted melody that she didn't want to listen to.
He'd taken pleasure in the fight, much more than she would have felt had she been in his position. He wasn't human after all.
She looked at him, forced herself to see him grinning at the dead demon.
He seemed so different again in her eyes, reverted back to the evil creature she'd met last night.
His attention moved to her and he stepped off the demon. She dropped her gaze to it, unable to look Lincoln in the eye. They were closer to the streetlight here and it turned her stomach to see the damage he'd done to the creature. The wings were broken, half of one missing, and there were long slashes in the demon's torso. The head was at a strange angle now, distorted and beaten beyond recognition. She'd never seen anything so hideous.
She wanted to vomit.
She couldn't look at Lincoln, couldn't bring herself to see the pleasure that would be in his dark eyes.
Her gaze strayed to his boots as he came to stand next to her. He'd hesitated in making the final blow. He'd stood proud and had looked down on his victim so the last thing it saw in this world was the victory of its opponent, and the pride, the superiority.
Whoever Lincoln was, he was used to distinguishing between classes. Back at her apartment, he'd given her reason enough to suspect as much. He thought she was below him, of lower class. Were all vampires of the pure bloodlines such arrogant bastards?
"What was it?” she said, needing to lift the stifling silence out of fear he'd start to suspect something was wrong.
"Aleaeries."
She'd never heard of that species before. Her eyes travelled up Lincoln's legs and faltered on their path. She still couldn't muster the strength to look him in the eye.
"It must have followed me across Europe. I thought I had lost it after our previous fight."
"Previous fight?” Her eyes made it to his stomach and she frowned at the long gashes in his wet t-shirt. He was injured. It was his blood she'd smelt.
"It was somewhere near Budapest as I recall.” He touched his side. “It used the same tactic then. Damn poison. I could not fight it at the time. The dawn was coming."
She looked at the dead demon. Even the pure blood vampires had creatures that were equal in strength to them. Even they were vulnerable. The demon had hurt Lincoln before and tonight it had paid dearly for a second attempt on his life. If she had been in his shoes, if she'd had a history with a demon, would she have relished the kill and the victory so much? It didn't bear thinking about. She wasn't a demon. Humans didn't take such pleasure in killing.
"There is something else that you need to know,” Lincoln said and she managed to meet his eyes at last. He didn't look pleased. “There is a bounty on my head. Others will know where I am and they will be coming."
"A bounty? Issued by wh—how much are we talking about?"
He raised a bloodied eyebrow.
For a moment, she didn't think he was going to answer her. She wasn't interested in a bounty. The only reason she'd asked was because he'd intrigued her and it had felt natural to want to know. Surely, it would have looked more suspicious if she hadn't?
"It is issued by my lord, Mikael, for my return, alive. The price, if you are interested in claiming it, is equivalent to five million of your pounds ... or you could take the alternative, the blood of one thousand virgins, still alive and kicking for you to do anything you wished with.” He moved away from her, as though he seriously believed that she would want to claim the bounty.
Five million pounds was tempting though. Not only would she be rid of him, she'd never have to worry about money again.
"You're in serious trouble aren't you? For someone to issue a reward of that much, you must be in trouble,” she said, taking a step towards him, slow and measured so he knew she had no interest in returning him to his lord. If she did that, then this so-called apocalypse would probably happen. Was it really an apocalypse? They needed to get researching. She'd get Lincoln back to the mansion and into sickbay and then assemble the team and brief them.
"Serious enough that I have asked a human to help me."
Her eyes met his. He had a good point. She doubted there was ever a recorded case of a vampire hunter helping a vampire, or a vampire seeking help from them.
"What reward would it have taken if it had captured you?” she said with a nod towards the dead aleaeries. “Just out of interest."
"It would have taken the women and blood in the old days. They are adapting. Human money comes in handy for them. It comes in handy for us all.” His hand pressed harder into his side. Blood trickled through his fingers, black and ominous in the low light. She hadn't realised the extent of his injuries.
"We should get out of here.” She looked away from him in the direction of the mansion. “We need to get researching."
Research seemed a better excuse to return to the compound than the fact he was injured, one less likely to get a violent reaction from him. She started walking, not bothering to check if Lincoln was following her. In his eyes, she'd seen a hint of pain and knew it was best to leave him be. His restraint still amazed her. He showed nothing of his pain on the surface. His expression, the steadiness of his voice, and the ease with which he spoke, could easily fool someone into believing that he wasn't hurt at all.
The stench of blood and that tiny flicker of hurt in his eyes said different though. She had to get him back and get his injury looked at. He'd mentioned poison. There wasn't many she knew of that could kill a vampire, and he'd encountered the demon before and survived being poisoned. Perhaps the toxin slowed healing.
It was a long walk back to the mansion and his pace began to slow before they'd reached it. By the time they did, he was walking at a snail's pace and she no longer needed to use her gift in order to smell the blood. She kept alongside him. It wasn't to offer silent support. It was to keep him from getting angry with her. Instinct told her that if she raced in front, he would feel weak and he would turn unpredictable again. She didn't want that, not when she was taking him, a hungry wounded vampire, back to a house full of young humans with strong blood.
They mounted the steps and she saw that the entrance hall was full of people. She cringed and glanced at her watch. It was time for the nightly shift change. One a.m.
A swarm of muttered comments greeted them as they walked through the doors. She didn't hold them for Lincoln. He needed to enter on his own strength so he didn't lose face. She understood that. His pride was all he had right now, his strength so diminished by his injury. He was vulnerable. He had to do all he could to make himself appear powerful so no one would dare attack him.
Not that she'd let them.
He was under her protection.
The whispers grew louder and she looked over her shoulder at Lincoln. His hand pressed against his side. It was drenched with blood. He held his head high and his eyes narrowed into a look of sheer determination. It didn't fool her. She could see the growing pain in them. He was beginning to lose control of his restraint.
She quickened her pace to see if he could keep up and was relieved when he could. It made the remainder of the journey to her apartment pass quickly. She opened the door for him and let him walk in first. The tension in him was palpable, turning the air heavy and sparking anticipation inside her. He couldn't hold out much longer. He went straight to the bathroom and didn't bother to shut the door. She closed the apartment door and leaned against it, waiting. She could sense it coming.
He roared.
His fists slammed into the wall either side of the mirrored cabinet, cracking the white tiles.
She flinched and shut her eyes.
Opening the door, she slipped out and closed it quietly. He needed some time alone and she needed to get him some blood. As disgusting as the notion of offering him precious human blood was, it had to be done. He'd lost so much that she wasn't sure he could recover without help. When she was younger, her teachers had taught her that you could bleed a vampire to death. How much more blood would Lincoln need to lose before he became critical?
She ignored the stares she received as she walked down the hall, heading straight for the infirmary. Pushing the double white doors open, she smiled at the male nurse who passed her and then went into the temperature-controlled room where they kept the blood.
"How serious is it?” Daniel made her jump and she turned to face him, clutching two packs of blood to her chest. His eyes darted to them before meeting hers again. “I see."
"It was an aleaeries. I've never heard of that species before.” She followed him out of the room and infirmary, giving him a grateful smile when he waved away one of the nurses before they could ask what she was doing.
"They're mercenaries,” he said with a frown as they walked along the hall. “They don't attack humans so we have no interest in them. They are normally hired to attack other demons."
Even if they were only supposed to attack demons, shouldn't her classes have taught her about all demons? What if she'd crossed paths with one alone, without Lincoln?
She remembered what he'd said to her.
"More will be coming. There's a price on Lincoln's head.” She didn't hesitate in telling Daniel. Let Lincoln be angry with her if he didn't want anyone else to know. She'd warned him that she'd have to report everything that happened. “It's not small either, Daniel."
She stopped and looked around to check the corridor was empty before stepping closer to him.
"It's five million pounds.” She felt justified in her worry when he looked shocked. “If someone, his lord, is offering that much for his return, we could be overrun with demons searching for him. His lord could come here!"
"We will deal with that if it happens,” Daniel said in a calm voice but the worry didn't leave his eyes.
"You're thinking about his contract with Section Seven, aren't you?"
He nodded. “He must have paid us an extortionate amount to even have his request for help considered."
She started walking again. She didn't want to remain in one spot in case someone was listening and she wanted to get the blood back to Lincoln.
She hesitated and then said, “He asked specifically for me."
"What?” Daniel hurried up beside her.
"I'm serious. He asked for me. He told me himself. I don't know why, but I'm determined to find out. There's something wrong about all this. The more I work with him, the more I'm starting to think he wasn't lying."
"Lying?” Daniel said. “What did he tell you?"
She sighed and looked at him.
"We're facing an apocalypse of biblical proportions."
Lincoln paced across her kitchen, relentless and focused. Lilith could feel the nerves radiating from him, tangled threads that mixed with other emotions she couldn't read. She hadn't expected a vampire to have so much feeling. Her view of them had always been of an animal, a heartless demon, something that only knew killing and was driven by instinct, not emotion.
Everything about him kept shattering her definition of right and wrong, good and evil, taking her finely balanced sense of justice with it and throwing her life into disarray.
"You're still bleeding,” she said.
He hadn't touched the blood she'd brought him. He hadn't even looked at it, or her, for over thirty minutes. He'd done nothing but attempt to wear a groove in her wooden floor.
He touched his side and frowned at his fingers when he brought them away. Dark blood stained them.
Concern crossed his face for a moment and he paled, and then his expression became an unreadable mask again.
"Someone could look—"
"It's fine,” he snapped and turned his back on her.
"Is it bothering you?” She stood up from the couch and took a few hesitant steps towards him. The last time she'd tried to get close, he'd growled at her.
He said nothing.
"Something is,” she muttered to herself and folded her arms, glaring at him.
His fingers grazed his side again and then he raised them and licked them clean.
"You really should get it seen to."
"I do not need help.” There was such darkness and anger in his voice that she stepped back to a safer distance. Was this why he wasn't drinking the blood she'd brought him? He didn't want her help. It didn't make sense. He'd come all this way to find her so she could help him, and now he was turning his back on her. He stopped and inspected his torn t-shirt and his wound again. “Do you have a needle, some cotton thread?"
She frowned and went to look in her bedroom. He wanted to sew his clothes? He was better off taking care of himself rather than his top. She found a reel of thread with a needle stuck into the top of it in her top drawer. She carried it over to him and placed it down on the counter.
He leaned against the kitchen cupboards and removed his t-shirt. His hands trembled as he threaded the needle. Her gaze wandered to his side. The wound was a wide slash that cut diagonally across his body from a point near his navel to just below his ribs on his left side. It was deep and ragged. She could only look at it for a few seconds before she had to look away. The blood had soaked into his jeans, all the way down to his boots, creating a wet patch on the now dry material. A trail of red spots marked the route he'd paced across the kitchen floor.
She was surprised when he placed the t-shirt down, pinched the wound on his side closed and pushed the needle into his flesh. He caught the tip of the needle as it poked through the other side and tugged until the end of the black cotton was an inch away from the hole he'd made. She stared, eyes following his every move as he sewed the wound.
There wasn't one trace of pain on his face. Such control. She could sense it in him. Her senses said he was hurting. Fear laced that pain.
He looked at her when he was done and she read the silent request. She took a pair of scissors out of the cutlery drawer and cut the thread for him. Her eyes ran down the length of it. Unable to resist the temptation, she traced her fingers down either side of the wound, inspecting his work. Her gaze roamed to his chest and stomach. He had a beautiful body, muscles toned and speaking of his strength. They spoke to her. They told her to touch him. He breathed in when she reached his stomach, evading her.
She'd never seen him breathe before. He was old enough to have lost that human instinct.
Her fingers dipped forwards until she was touching him again. She knew she should stop, that he was watching her closely and most likely wondering what was compelling her to caress a creature she so openly loathed.
Curiosity.
He'd been right before.
In moments of darkness, when she'd used her gift and killed her vampire quarry, she'd often wondered how they differed—humans and vampires.
He wasn't as cold as she'd expected. His skin felt cool, as though he'd been caught in the cold without enough protection. He felt human and for some reason that scared her, just as it had before. If he hadn't, she might have found a reason to end her change of feelings towards his kind and dispose of these emotions he'd stirred in her.
Attraction.
Desire.
Need.
"Are you done, or should I strip so you can satisfy your curiosity about that too?” He pushed her hand off him and edged away, walking across the room.
The coldness in his voice startled her. She hadn't realised that by touching him she'd upset him so much. He'd pushed her away in the field too.
His thumb swept across the wound again and then he sucked it clean.
She realised why he was acting so strange all of a sudden, so cruel and malicious. This was what was bothering him.
"You're hungry."
He paused and removed his thumb from his mouth.
"You noticed?” There was an irritating air of sarcasm in his voice. It made her want to hit him. His demeanour changed as he studied her, his head inclining to one side and his eyes narrowed into a pensive look. She felt as though he could see right through her. “Few hunters can sense as well as you."
If he wanted to know why, it wouldn't do him any good to ask. Other than knowing she had a gift, and knowing how to call it, she knew nothing about it. She didn't know why she had it or where it came from. Daniel had said nothing more than the fact it was probably genetic and had come from her parents. She'd never known her parents. Her sister was the only family she'd had.
"You haven't fed in a while."
"It is not safe,” he said and then paused, narrowing inquisitive eyes on her. “You would not stop me?"
She ignored that question, frightened by the answer her heart had immediately given.
"I brought you blood to help you heal. Won't you weaken if you refuse it?"
He didn't lose the questioning look.
"Some, but I will still be strong. I have always preferred fresh blood.” He picked up one of the bags of red liquid and gave it a distasteful look. His eyes came back to her. “Unless you are offering?"
She backed away. “Never!"
He smiled, amused.
"But if you're weak—” she started.
"It is better than leaving myself open to attack while I feed.” He tossed the bag onto the counter with the other one. “I do not know this place well, and there are many after me. To feed is to let your guard slip."
He stepped towards her and a look entered his eyes that had her heart racing. It was all warmth and temptation. He lowered his voice to a near-whisper, sensual and enticing.
"To feed is to become lost in the divine taste of warm, fresh blood and the thrill of the kill.” He closed the gap between them. She stood her ground even as he towered over her. “You have no control then, you are a slave to the desire it stirs ... the pleasure."
She swallowed, hating how seductive he sounded and how close he was. The passion in his eyes was unnerving. His words should have disgusted her. He should have disgusted her. Instead, it all conspired to confuse her and make her feel wrong on some level. His words spoke to her, called to her, and she felt everything he'd described—the pleasure, the hunger, and the desire.
She turned away and told herself not to listen to him, not to let him make her feel this way. He was a vampire, her enemy. Blood was precious and to be protected. It was her duty to protect her kind from monsters like him.
Walking to the kitchen counter, she gathered herself. She picked up the two bags of blood and threw them at his chest. They bounced off and landed at his feet. He raised an eyebrow at them.
"Eat it or die. It's your decision,” she said and then headed to the door. “I've got to gather the research team so we can find out just what the hell is going on with you."
Lincoln stared at the blood bags. The door slammed. He bent over, pressing a hand to his side and grimacing as his wound hurt, and picked up the bags. It was kind of her to bring him blood, even if it was cold. He straightened and turned the packs over in his hands. Bringing them to his nose, he sniffed. It was real human blood. They must have a hospital in the mansion. It made sense.
He walked slowly to the dark brown couch and eased himself down onto it. He shifted until he was comfortable. It was hard when his side felt as though it was on fire and stung whenever he moved. He kicked his boots off and eased his legs up onto the coffee table.
Putting the blood bags down, he frowned. His jeans were filthy and needed washing. There was a chance he'd leave a stain on her couch. He was too tired to care.
Now that she was gone, he could drink the blood and focus on healing. He needed rest. Not eating for two weeks had weakened him enough. The amount of blood he'd lost tonight had only made it worse. Now he was no stronger than a weakling.
Leaning his head back against the top of the couch, he closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his damp hair. He could sleep for eternity. Every inch of his body was throbbing and aching.
He was going to need more than two measly bags of blood to make him better.
She'd probably become angry if he asked for more.
He brought the first pack up to his mouth and sucked on the plastic for a few seconds before puncturing it with his teeth. The chilled blood flooded his mouth and made him want to retch. He swallowed it down. He had to. Blood was precious, and he needed every millilitre he could get.
The first pack was empty for minutes before he finished sucking, so desperate for more that he could barely control himself. He tossed it into the kitchen and bit into the other one, gulping it down in seconds and not leaving any in the plastic bag.
He threw it across the room to join the other one.
His fangs itched.
He needed more.
An illusion of Lilith danced across his closed eyes, dressed in her little camisole and tight jeans. She twirled closer, ever closer, until he swore he could smell her blood and hear the beautiful rhythm of her heart again. He urged her to come closer. He wouldn't hurt her. He just wanted a taste. He'd smelt her blood again tonight.
The sweet fragrance had been alluring and tempting, as sensual as he'd imagined, fitting her perfectly. Watching her fighting, she'd been enthralling, pulling him in until he wanted to fight her just to be the object of her attention.
The Lilith in his mind changed her dance until it became a series of faultlessly executed kicks and punches.
He'd fight her. He smiled to himself. He'd fight her just to feel her body against his, her hands on him again, and to fulfil his desire to touch her. It wouldn't be breaking the law then.
"What the hell?” Her voice shattered the illusion in his mind and he opened one eye to look at her.
She was glaring at him from the kitchen, her hands firmly planted on her hips.
"It's called a bin. You put rubbish in it. It's bad enough that I have to share my place with you ... I'm not cleaning up after you too.” she said and stooped to pick up the empty blood bags. She put them in the bin and then stalked towards him. “If you get blood on my couch, I'll kill you."
He closed his eyes again, unconcerned by her threat.
Sleep beckoned.
The sun was rising.
Picking himself up and concealing all the pain it caused him, he left his boots by the couch and walked to his bedroom door.
"Don't bleed on the bed sheets either!"
He turned in the doorway and met her scowl with his own glare. “Your concern is touching."
He had to do something about his jeans though. They needed cleaning and his t-shirt needed repairing. He looked at Lilith, getting the feeling that she would actually try to kill him if he asked her to wash his clothes and fix them for him.
It wasn't part of their deal or the contract. Neither was it his place to do a menial task. He'd never washed clothes or sewn an item of clothing in his life. He wasn't about to start now.
"Where are you going?"
Ignoring her question, he went into the bathroom and turned the shower on. He could keep his jeans on while he washed himself, ridding his skin of the lingering stench of demon. Maybe that would rinse some of the blood out of them. Then, in all his life, he still wouldn't have lowered himself to do servants work.
He stepped into the shower and hissed the moment the warm water hit his wound. It stung fierce and burned, like a thousand hot tiny needles puncturing his skin.
His wash was quick, only lasting as long as it took to see clear water running out of his jeans. He turned the water off and ran his hands firmly down his legs as best he could without breaking his stitches.
Satisfied that he'd squeezed out most of the water in his jeans, he walked back out of the bathroom and glanced at Lilith before going into his bedroom.
"Don't get the bed sheets wet!"
Would she ever be satisfied?
He slammed the door.
He stripped the wet jeans and his socks off and laid them over the back of a wooden chair in the corner of the room, along with his boxers. Rubbing his face, he padded naked across the room and lowered himself onto the bed. The darkness was comforting. He stared into it.
The aleaeries had followed him.
More would be coming.
His lord would soon follow.
He had a terrible feeling in his gut.
Lilith wasn't going to save him.
Lilith pushed the book away, as far as possible across the table, and picked her mug up. Empty. She leaned her chin against her upturned palm and yawned. The research team continued, never breaking their concentration for any reason. They were like machines, going through book after book, relentless in their pursuit for knowledge. Two days ago, she'd assembled the team. There were three men and one woman. When she'd told them that she had a potential apocalypse for them to find answers to, and a way to avoid it happening, they'd gone straight to work, all smiles and excited chatter.
Now they'd gone through at least a sixth of the library's books. She couldn't keep up with them. Every five minutes she was making coffee in a desperate attempt to stop herself from falling asleep on the books.
They'd probably kill her if she did that.
She'd never realised how serious and incredibly geeky the researchers were. Now she understood Daniel a little better. He'd never been a field agent, which is probably why he'd managed to live until he was pushing sixty. He'd always been like these young people in front of her. Their fight was for knowledge, against books and mysteries, and ancient prophecies and languages long forgotten. Her fight was for the safety of her kind, against demons more powerful than her. She risked her life night after night to protect the people in this room and the world.
Grabbing her mug, she stood and walked across the room to the coffee urn. She put her mug down and picked the silver and black urn up. A shake revealed that it was empty too.
"I'm going for coffee. Anyone want something? Breakfast maybe?” She looked at the four. They stared at her, their heads barely raised from the books they were reading.
They nodded.
They weren't a talkative bunch either.
Heaving a sigh, she took the coffee urn and trudged down the hall towards the stairs that led to the ground floor. When she reached the balcony and the staircase in the entrance hall, she had to stop. She leaned against the banisters and stared out of the window. The sky was lightening. Another night had passed and Lincoln hadn't left his room.
She pushed away from the banister and went down the stairs. He was beginning to worry her. She hated that he could do that. A vampire was the last thing she should be concerned about. He'd been in such a state though. She wondered how long it had been since he'd fed. How long could a vampire last before they weakened too much to kill?
When night had fallen, she'd been tempted to knock on his door or just walk straight in and tell him to come with her and help with the research. Instead, she'd taken another two blood bags from the infirmary and left them outside his door. She wasn't chicken and he didn't frighten her. The only reason she hadn't barged into the room was that she didn't fancy seeing him naked. At least that's what she told herself.
She'd even become so bored of waiting for him to reappear in the world that she'd taken his t-shirt to the buyers department on the first floor and told them to order another half a dozen in a similar size. She hadn't been able to order him more jeans. She didn't know his size and he'd shut them in his den of iniquity with him.
The cafeteria hushed as she walked in. She ignored the stares and the whispered comments. Everyone seemed to be talking about Lincoln these days, or more precisely, her and Lincoln. She'd told Daniel about the rumours. He'd promised to speak to the other commanders in the compound to put an end to them.
"Can you fill this with strong black coffee please?” she said to a man behind the food counter. He was no older than her.
He flashed a smile and took the urn from her. She idly watched him filling it, her brain temporarily shutting down. She was so tired. Give her a good fight, one that lasted all night, and she'd be wide awake at the end of it. Force her to sit surrounded by books and looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack and she couldn't keep her eyes open.
"Here you go,” the man said, holding the urn out to her. She took it with a nod and set it down on the counter.
"Can you get someone to send breakfast up to the library?"
"Sure, anything you want."
She'd expected him to tack ‘sweetheart’ onto the end of that sentence. He just continued to smile, as though that was his default setting. She couldn't imagine why he wanted to work in the cafeteria at his age. Most of the people here were in their mid twenties like her. It took until twenty-two to graduate. She looked at the man and the other young people serving breakfast to the hunters and researchers gathered in the cafeteria. Maybe this is what happened to you if you failed. She'd never thought about it before. People did fail to pass the exams. She supposed that working here within the compound was better than getting a job out in the world where you knew vampires and demons lurked, waiting to kill you. Here was safe.
She frowned.
At least it had been until a vampire had openly walked in.
"Thanks,” she said and then paused. “Send up everything bad would you? All the fatty stuff and nasty sugary treats. I think I need it."
He chuckled and nodded. She turned and walked away, carrying the urn more carefully now that it was full. It smelt wonderful—bittersweet and warm—the enticing aroma of fresh coffee.
She almost hugged it.
It was like salvation in a bottle.
Her footsteps slowed as she reached the first floor and her thoughts returned to Lincoln. It probably wasn't wise to leave him in her apartment alone and with the door unlocked. Not that a locked door stood a chance of stopping a vampire. It hadn't even stopped Mark that time they'd argued. He'd kicked it right in.
She stopped dead and her eyes widened.
Mark.
God. She hadn't thought of him since before Jackson had died. Everything since then had been a blur. No, that was a lie. She'd had time to think, and it had always been about the contract or about Lincoln. What was wrong with her?
Two men passed her. She recognised them as some of the men that had been enjoying taunting Lincoln when he'd first arrived. They were wearing black.
She frowned.
Now that she came to think of it, everyone in the cafeteria had been wearing black too.
She looked back down the corridor towards the large windows in the entrance hall.
It was grey and drizzling.
It was today.
A shiver raced through her, leaving her feeling cold and alone. How could she forget?
She looked at her watch to see that it was already nearing seven. Only five more hours to go. She'd research with the team for three more and then give them leave to go and get ready.
She'd get ready too.
A commotion in the hall made her hurry back to the balcony and she stared down at a group of hunters as they rushed in. Three men were carrying a small woman. She looked no more than twenty-two, barely old enough to be out in the field.
She was drenched in blood.
She was dead.
Lilith looked out at the world as it began to rain heavily and listened to the clamour below.
Today was going to be hell.
Lilith turned the page. An hour had passed in silence. When she'd returned to the library this afternoon after the funeral, Lincoln had been waiting there. He'd thanked her for the blood. She'd said nothing.
The coffee and breakfast goods were cold. No one had touched them when she'd returned this morning and told the team to continue for a while and then leave to get ready. It seemed they'd forgotten too. How could everyone forget so easily? Hadn't he been the life of their group, the one to lift spirits and make everyone laugh? Even she'd laughed a few times.
She had no laughter left now.
The atmosphere in the house was oppressive. It was quiet and she would be able to hear every movement in the hall if her heart stopped beating so loudly in her ears.
"Is something the matter?” Lincoln said from the opposite side of the table.
She favoured him with a scowl and went back to her book. How dare he speak to her? This was his fault after all. He was one of them. He had brought the one that had killed Jackson to this place and then brazenly walked into her life and demanded she protect him.
She hated him.
She hated everything he represented, and all the deaths he brought back to her.
Tears blurred her vision. She refused to let them fall. She wouldn't let him see her like this. She couldn't let him see how much he affected her.
She turned another page, scanning it for a mention of Lincoln's prophecy. Since the words he'd given her were in Latin, they'd started with the Latin books. It had never been a strong point of hers. She'd almost failed it during training.
Eve had been better.
Eve had passed with flying colours.
Her chest tightened and heart ached at the memory of her twin sister. She'd always been so full of life and laughter, so carefree while she herself had been so serious about their calling. She could remember telling her sister not to run down the halls here when they were children, that it was against the rules. Eve had never done anything by the rules.
It had hurt like hell the day she'd died.
Lilith had felt it, felt the pull and snap inside her. Daniel hadn't needed to say a word for her to know what had happened.
Lincoln's kind had killed her.
A dirty, vicious and disgusting Vehemens.
Vehemens seemed to take everyone she loved.
"There is definitely something the mat—"
"Shut up!” She cut him off, slamming her fists down on the table and standing sharply. Her chair flew backwards. “Just shut up!"
He looked shocked, leaning back in his chair in an obvious attempt to distance himself from her anger and staring straight at her with dark sinful eyes.
He was a Vehemens. This was his fault.
"I'm sick of you. I'm sick of the stupid rumours about us. I wish you'd get the hell out of my life.” She shoved the table hard towards him. He grabbed it and pushed back, stopping her. A growl of frustration left her and she walked away only to come back a second later. “A girl died today. She'd been a hunter for barely more than a handful of weeks. She was torn to shreds!"
He said nothing.
It was wrong of her to lay blame for the girl's death at his feet when a weakling had killed her. Right now though, she needed someone to pin all these crimes on, someone to take it all out on, and he was the only viable target.
"I hate you!” She sneered at him.
His eyes darkened and he stood.
She didn't show any fear in the face of him. The anger inside her was overwhelming, boiling up until she couldn't keep control. She had to get this all out of her before she burst.
"I hate you!"
He narrowed his gaze on her.
"You think this death is on my hands?” he said in such a calm and measured tone that she knew he was upset. There was that incredible restraint again. She wanted to push and push until the tethers holding his anger inside snapped. She was itching for a fight.
"It was your kind, your bloodsucking, filthy kind!"
He stepped to the side, carefully pushed his chair under the table, and regarded her with cold eyes.
"You think we are all the same?"
She wished he'd get angry. She wanted him angry. She could see it in the depths of his eyes. He wanted to fight too. He wanted to retaliate.
"You're all the same. Murderers!"
He laughed and it turned her insides to hear it. There was cruelty in that laugh, a sense of darkness and unspoken words. He didn't care if he'd killed her kind. He had no compassion towards humans.
"You came here, bringing your merry band of bloodthirsty murderers with you, following in your wake ... you brought them here ... you don't care what the consequences are, as long as you're ‘protected'."
He sneered.
"Oh come on ... let's have it then. The excuse. The reason why. The bullshit. I don't give a fucking damn about you or your safety. The only reason I'm helping you is because you pose a direct threat to humans if this prophecy comes to pass. Right?” She glared at him until he nodded. “I know how to protect you. Get the hell out of my face and stay in your room!"
A flicker of red in his eyes was the only warning she got before he had leapt across the table and was stalking straight towards her. She backed off, instantly switching to the defensive as he closed the gap.
"Get away from me,” she warned.
He kept coming.
She was running out of space.
Instinct kicked in.
She punched him hard across the face.
Silence.
He touched his cheek and the red mark she'd caused. His eyebrows knit. His look turned as black as midnight skies.
Fear rose inside her.
She ran.
She ran straight out of the room without looking back and then slowed to a brisk walk, trying to look collected in case anyone saw her.
The slamming of the library door echoed down the hall towards her, along with the sound of his footsteps.
She doubled her pace. Her senses screamed that he was coming. She'd pushed him that one step too far. It had shown in his eyes the moment his temper had snapped. Her heart hammered against her chest, its frantic rhythm telling her that she wasn't going to make it to the safety of the sun-drenched entrance hall before he caught up with her.
He grabbed her wrist and twisted it painfully. Her breath left her when her back hit the wall. She flinched at his threatening growl. He was so close that his cool breath washed over her face.
Her eyes widened when she stared at his mouth and saw his canines extending. She'd never witnessed it before. They'd always been either human looking or in their vampire guise when she'd fought them. She'd never seen the process of transformation. She could almost hear his bones shifting and the scrape of his teeth as they grew.
He slammed his hands against the wall on either side of her head. The force of the impact made it shudder.
Swallowing hard, she fought for control over her fear. She couldn't let him win this. She couldn't back down. She'd pushed him until he lost control just as she'd wanted him to, only now she didn't know what to do. The only course of action open to her was to apologise. She couldn't bring herself to do that. A tiny part of her said to push him again.
Raising her eyes, she did her best to look calm. She flipped him a smile.
"What rattled your cage?” she said.
His fiery red eyes narrowed and a growl rumbled through his chest, so low that she could feel the echo of it in her own.
"You don't frighten me."
He moved back a fraction and blinked slowly. Was he going to let her go, just like that, without so much as an attempt to make her pay for her spiteful words? What he did do was the last thing she expected.
He leaned forwards ever so slowly, his cheek so close to hers that she could feel the coolness of his skin. Her eyes closed. He neared her ear and her heart trebled in speed when he dipped his head towards her neck. She grasped the wall behind her, flattening herself against it as though she would be able to evade him. She had to move. His low growl made her knees weak and palms sweat. Fear broke free of its restraints. It wasn't that feeling which shocked her most of all.
Her stomach warmed when his breath washed over her neck. Her teeth teased her lower lip. She swallowed and pressed the back of her head into the wall. Her fingers tensed against it, seeking purchase to keep her standing as her legs began to buckle beneath her.
Their skin touched, his cheek barely grazing her jaw. It sent her trembling, her heart thundering so hard that she couldn't hear anything but the rush of her blood.
She couldn't breathe.
Couldn't do anything but melt into the wall.
She realised that he had moved away from her. Her lust-fogged brain gradually cleared and she opened her eyes, knowing already how he was going to look when they found him.
He inhaled deeply, smirked, and removed his hands from beside her head.
She was speechless.
He wasn't.
"What rattled your cage?” he said in a deep sultry voice that sent tremors through her, aftershocks of what he'd made her feel.
He walked away in the direction of the library, victorious.
She couldn't go back there now. Her cheeks blazed. She was ridiculous. Pathetic. He was a vampire. He shouldn't be able to make her feel that way. She wished he didn't.
Everything was falling apart.
Her feet led the way, carrying her down the stairs in the entrance hall and out of the door. The sun was still shining but it was heading towards the horizon. She walked around to the garden and sat down on a bench near the rose bed. Closing her eyes, she let the sun warm her skin and relax her. She didn't get to see it much these days, let alone feel it. It was a long time since her and Eve would spend the whole day playing in this garden.
She looked at it, at the tall firs and the rhododendron bushes that surrounded the expanse of neatly clipped grass and borders of flowers.
Tears filled her eyes.
Today had been hard.
She shouldn't have taken it out on Lincoln.
Staring at the scenery directly in front of her, she emptied her mind until she wasn't doing anything. There was no feeling, no hurt from losing those she loved, or pain from the fight. There was no attraction to Lincoln, or lingering desire from their moment in the hall. There were no thoughts of what was to come. No fear. There was nothing but peace and tranquillity, the warmth of the sun, and happy childhood memories.
She longed to go back there, to a world bright with sunshine and long playful days with her sister.
Only she couldn't go back.
She could only go forwards and go on in a world without her best friend and her only family. It was a dark place, a cold one that drained her of life and feeling.
The one thing she'd least expected had brought a spark into this grey world, a flicker of colour.
A vampire.
Lincoln.
There was no sign of Lincoln when she returned to the library at nightfall. The first group of hunters leaving the mansion had broken her peace, sending her back to her life and responsibilities. She had to research.
She sat down at the table and dragged the book she'd been reading towards her. The one Lincoln had been looking at sat opposite in front of his empty chair. She didn't want to think about where he'd gone. She hoped he was back in her apartment and not out slaughtering the innocent because of her.
Heaving a sigh, she started to read, trying to put everything out of her head by focusing on her work. It started out well and then disintegrated into nothing more than fidgeting with the book and scanning the pages.
The grandfather clock in the corner chimed out the hour. Eight. The night had barely begun and she was already so tired. She wished there was time for her to rest. She couldn't sleep until tonight was over.
She turned another page and stared at it, trying to regain her focus. It was impossible. They'd gone through so many books and Lincoln had given her so little to go on. A pact called Spiritus Diabolus. What kind of information was that? It was hardly useful. If he'd been able to tell her something more specific then it would have made the search a lot quicker. He'd said himself that they were running out of time because it had taken so long to find her.
There was another thing that didn't bear thinking about.
He'd asked specifically for her.
Why? Was she a part of this prophecy too?
She glared at the picture in front of her—a succubus and its prey.
Something told her that Lincoln knew more than he was letting on. He hadn't told her why he needed her on the case, or the real reason behind why he was so reluctant to leave the compound to feed. He'd easily killed that demon. He could easily kill any that came after him. There had to be a reason he wanted her protection so badly. He had more information and he wasn't giving it to her.
She turned the page.
Why was he holding back if he wanted her help in stopping this prophecy from coming true? If she knew more about it, they could find a solution, a way of avoiding it or halting it altogether.
She skim read the next page in her book and then stopped, her eyes scanning back up the page until they found the word she'd seen.
Pact.
Lincoln had mentioned a pact.
She read the paragraph that contained the word and frowned when it mentioned the Devil.
Her eyes flicked to the next page. Covering it was a woodblock print in black and white, a grotesque depiction of the Devil and a man. The Devil stood behind, almost in shadow, its huge horned form towering over the smaller man. It had its hands held out above the man, its claw-like fingers making her think of an orchestra conductor. Below him, the man was twisted into a strange position, his body bent and wretched, and his arms out in front of him, mimicking the Devil's pose.
The more she looked at it, the longer she stared into the Devil's eyes and at the horrifying image of the man, the colder she became.
She looked away, not wanting to see it anymore. For some reason it frightened her. The idea of the Devil controlling people was disturbing, chilling.
She read the Latin inscription at the bottom of the print.
The Devil's Puppet.
The door opened and she slammed the book shut, her heart pounding hard against her chest when she turned to face Lincoln.
She pulled the book towards her, too frightened by what she'd read to tell Lincoln.
"Have you discovered anything?” he said, casual and as though nothing had happened earlier.
"No.” Too quick. She should've taken longer to answer, or prattled on about how it was slow going and they'd find something soon.
His brow arched.
His glare penetrated hers.
"Don't lie to me!” The force of those words hit her hard, rattling her and making her jump. “I can sense something is wrong!"
She clung to the book, hugging it to her chest. She'd forgotten he could easily read her heartbeat and her fear. Her heart pounded faster, driven by the anger in his voice.
"Why's it so important to you?” The words left her before she'd even had time to consider what she was doing. She shouldn't be questioning him right now. She was treading on thin ice again and this time it might break.
He growled. “It's my life at stake!"
She laughed at that, couldn't help herself. “You're scared of death?"
The notion was ridiculous. A vampire was frightened of dying. It chased away the fear she'd been feeling, pushing it to the back of her mind.
He growled again, exposing sharp teeth this time. His threat didn't stop her from laughing. The weight of vulnerability in his eyes did. It grounded her. He'd never looked so human.
"You mortals do not fear death,” he said in an empty voice, distant and quiet. He sounded so broken that she wanted to apologise for her laughter, for hurting him. “You believe there is something good, nice, awaiting you on the other side. We vampires know different. We are blessed with eternity if we are careful, and the more we live, the more we grow to fear death because we know what awaits us."
He paced across the room to the window and opened the curtains to reveal a beautiful full moon. It bathed him, flooding the room with ice-white light and chasing the shadows away. She stood, placed the book down, and walked over to him. He stared out at the moonlit garden. She studied his profile, watching for any sign of his feelings.
"Those turned to darkness belong to the darkness...” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Hell ... and Hell is very real ... and it is waiting ... for me."
His words sent another shiver through her, bringing back the image she'd seen in the book. The Devil's Puppet.
His attention returned to the world outside.
He was quiet for so long that she felt compelled to apologise, to tell him that whatever he thought was waiting for him, it would have to wait a while longer because she wasn't about to let anything happen to him.
He looked so lost, staring out of the window, a touch of melancholy in his eyes.
She hated how she felt, and that a vampire had made her feel it. Clenching her fists, she fought for control, resisting the desire to place a hand against his cheek and tell him she was here for him.
"I have seen Hell,” he whispered in a distant voice. “I have looked into the eyes of the Devil. I know my fate."
She stared at him, stunned into silence, and then at the book on the table. He already knew. He knew.
Closing her eyes, she emptied her mind and called on her gift. She pictured the moon that hung in the inky darkness, focused on the words it spoke to her. Her senses sharpened until her head began to hurt and her body ached. She switched her focus to Lincoln. She could feel the barest thread of his fear. It was black and painful. She'd seen him stand calm in the face of hunters, demons and vampires. None of them had frightened him, not like this. He was scared.
"It does have something to do with the Devil and a pact then?” she said and he looked at her.
He nodded. “I can steal it, if you need more information."
"How?"
He said nothing.
"What I read mentioned a mark. We need to know if this is the pact we're dealing it. The mark is supposed to distinguish the—"
He raised his left hand, silent and emotionless, and exposed his palm.
On it was a thick white scar in the shape of a cross, upside down when he held it as he was now with his fingers pointing towards heaven. If he were penitent, it would be God's cross.
Her insides flipped.
It was the pact she'd read. He'd been branded at birth, destined to play a part in this prophecy all his life. It was hard to imagine how she'd feel if she was in his shoes. She didn't think she would be able to cope with the realisation that she was fated to be a pawn for the Devil.
"I will steal the contract."
She shook her head. “It's too dangerous. You can't just walk into your family's home and take it."
"No one will see me.” He seemed so sure that she almost believed him.
"In that case, I'll go with you."
He laughed. “To Oslo? To the heart of my kind? No."
"You need protection. With me there, you'll have a higher chance of survival.” She stood firm, her jaw tight and expression one of resolve. She'd promised to protect him. There was no way he was going to Oslo alone to get himself captured.
"Then I will not go,” he said and looked at the garden again.
"Trying to protect me?” She frowned at him.
"No. Quite the contrary. I am protecting myself."
She didn't understand what he meant by that but she didn't push the subject. She could sense that he was growing impatient. The underlying fear she'd felt was gone and he was impossible to read again.
Silence stretched between them. His eyes remained fixed on the scenery while hers took in his face. He seemed talkative tonight, and she was determined to get some answers.
"Why me?” she whispered.
He looked at her, a little confused and evidently needing more of an explanation.
"Why ask for me? You said you did.” She held his gaze, not letting him look away as he clearly wanted to. She needed to know. He had to be able to see that in her eyes.
"Because your name was given to me,” he said in a low intimate voice. It caressed her ears and heated her blood as though he was speaking words of seduction not simple information.
"By who?” she whispered back, unable to raise her voice now that he'd lowered his. It felt too intimate and she knew she should raise hers again until she felt comfortable. Right now though, she didn't care. She was on the verge of finally getting some answers to all the questions crowding her mind.
"Not a who ... a them. By them."
Intrigue made her eyebrows rise. “And who are they?"
He stepped close to her, near enough that his feelings were clearer on her senses. He was calm, relaxed almost. He seemed to be enjoying this moment almost as much as she was.
"They took a look for me, at my destiny, and gave me your name. It took a while to find you."
"Who are they?” She moved closer to him, staring up into his eyes and desperate to know.
"I need to go out. This place is stifling me.” He turned away to face the moon.
Disappointment swept through her. She stepped back and looked at the garden.
"We could walk the grounds."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod. “That would be acceptable."
She led him through the building to the entrance hall and out into the night. It called to her. It didn't annoy her tonight. She let it call, never answering, just feeling that pull in her blood. Taking a deep breath of the clean cool air, she sighed it out. It felt good being out here, in the quiet, with Lincoln.
They strolled towards the garden at a slow pace that made her feel peaceful inside regardless of her company. It was strange how she felt around him tonight, relaxed and tranquil, at one with him, not against him. Tonight he seemed to fit with her, a puzzle piece that made her feel whole. She liked this feeling.
She didn't feel alone.
"Are you going to sneak off after the contract without me?” she said without looking at him.
His eyes came to rest on her. She could sense them trailing fire in their wake. He studied her face most of all.
"No. It will come to me.” There was no more explanation. She was beginning to expect that of him. He seemed to enjoy leading her in circles and leaving things a mystery. Perhaps he didn't trust her.
No, that wasn't the case. He trusted her with his life.
It was fear making him hold things inside.
Lincoln watched her, taking in her profile. The moonlight turned her hair silvery and skin pale, emphasising her beauty to him. Her eyes were black pools that swam with her feelings. He could feel the slenderest ribbon of them, the slightest hint.
Their argument earlier and his subsequent revenge had revealed a good many things to him about her feelings. She was battling them as fiercely as he was. They were destined to fail though. It was impossible to resist such a strong attraction, even when the law forbade it.
His gaze left her and scanned over the garden. The bright full moon turned its low bushes and trees blue. The night was cold, crisp, and the sky crystal clear. It seemed like decades since he'd felt so safe, safe enough to take the time to look at the stars in the glorious heavens above.
The peace between himself and Lilith reassured him, lending strength to his belief that she would save him as the Three had predicted.
The breeze whispered against his skin and he closed his eyes briefly to enjoy the feel of it.
He looked across at Lilith again, at the clothes she was wearing. He'd noticed a large number of people wearing suits today, all in black like her. Her outburst had been in part because of her day, and he could forgive her for that. Death was never easy to deal with. It made you feel mortal. It made you feel the shortness of your days.
She was so quiet. Was it this sense of peace between them or thoughts of the funeral stealing her voice?
He waited, always patient, knowing she'd speak eventually. This is what she needed right now. No pressure or work to bury herself in. No one pressing her to talk. Just someone to listen.
They walked further into the garden, heading around the next side of the house. There were no flowers here. It was an open area of grass enclosed by shrubs and trees.
Two female hunters passed them. He felt their eyes on him. He didn't take his away from Lilith.
"There's a wake tonight,” she said in a broken whisper that told him she was having difficulty keeping her feelings in check.
He had that problem too sometimes, even after centuries of training himself. Sometimes they slipped free of the reins and he could only wait until they passed and try to piece himself back together and rebuild his defences.
"For your friend?” His tone was calm, as gentle as he could manage. He hoped it would soothe her and keep this sense of harmony between them.
"Jackson.” Her tone turned bitter for a moment and then faded back into quiet sadness. “His name was Jackson."
He nodded. “I am sorry for your loss."
She stopped.
"Sorry?” She laughed, mirthless and cold. “You're the reason he's dead."
"I cannot deny that, but it was you who brought me here.” He hated the way she looked at him in that moment—horrified that he'd dared to mention that and hurt that it was in part her fault her friend had died.
She turned away. “Don't remind me."
He stood silent and sentinel beside her. Other hunters were returning. He could hear them in the distance. A lone man appeared out of the darkness, walking towards them. The man gave him a dark look when Lilith turned away, making it obvious that she was upset. Lincoln thought the man would stop and talk to her. He was wrong. The man walked away and continued with his patrol. Lincoln saw another in the distance. The humans were clever enough to have nightly guards in the grounds. They weren't clever enough to put them in groups. They'd need at least four together to protect the mansion from an attack by a pure blood.
His gaze returned to Lilith. She'd killed a pure blood alone. There was something different about her.
She looked at him with eyes that spoke of anger and resolve. She had changed again. She'd shut down her feelings.
"I'll beat any vampire that sets foot in this town. Any of your kin. Even you."
It was difficult to take those words seriously even when he knew that she meant every one of them with all her heart. She believed in herself, in her strength and skill. She honestly thought she could kill any that attacked her.
"I'm not frightened of your kind. I can handle them. I've killed one."
There was such wonderful defiance in her eyes, like a small child determined to prove itself an adult and that it knew better than its parents.
He laughed this time.
She glared at him, her stance changing. She wanted to fight again.
"The one you killed was nothing more than a scout, so do not start getting too big for your boots.” He looked her in the eye, hoping she'd see that he was serious too and read the message in his words. If she kept thinking she was invincible, she was quickly going to realise that she wasn't. “He was a scout. It is like fighting an aide or a servant ... he would have been barely twenty. Next time it will be guards, or if we are unlucky, it will be elite guards."
He took a step towards her and lowered his mouth to her ear.
"If we are truly unlucky, it will be my lord and my blood sister, the Chosen Daughter."
When he pulled back, she looked baffled.
He smiled, amused by her ignorance. She was a child after all.
"My species has not become as strong as they are without developing a social structure."
She stepped away and placed a distance between them. Her gaze assessed him.
"Where are you in this structure?” she said with a weight of curiosity in her eyes.
"Chosen Son, second only to my lord.” He stood a little taller.
She looked impressed.
"That is around five positions from a vampire you could defeat."
Her impressed look faded into a sour one and she drew her stake. “I could take you."
Could she? He looked at her, seeing all that self-belief in her eyes. She really believed that she could.
Her grip on the stake tightened. He stared at her.
"I'll prove it.” She ground the words out.
He raised a brow. Did she want to feel death's embrace so much that she would race to meet it? Her foolish pride would get her killed if she wasn't careful. It was a miracle that she'd managed to defeat even a young Vehemens. There was a reason his bloodline were named the violent.
"Fine,” he said. He was willing to play her game and show her once and for all who was superior. Hopefully it would shake some sense into her. “If you want me to frighten you, I will. First one to the throat."
He backed off and she frowned at him.
"What are you doing?"
"I will give you twenty metres, a distance at which a weaker vampire couldn't easily attack.” He stopped when he was adequate distance away and settled his senses on her. Her heart faltered occasionally, disturbing its surprising steadiness and betraying her underlying nerves about what they were doing. “Are you ready?"
She sniffed, rolled her shoulders, and adopted a fighting stance. A deep breath and flex of her hand followed. Her focus was so intent that he could feel her staring at him.
She nodded and took another breath. “Ready."
Before she could even finish saying the word, he was behind her. One hand held her around the front of her throat while his other captured the one in which she held the stake. He slid his hand to her jaw and tilted her head back and to the side, exposing her neck. She released her breath. Her heart thundered.
He lowered his mouth to her neck, lips hovering bare millimetres from her skin. He swallowed reflexively, breathed deep of her tempting scent of warm blood and flowers. His fangs extended, his eyes turning red.
Her heart pounded in his chest. Her blood rushed through his veins. With her body pressed against his, trembling in his arms, she was impossible to resist. No internal battle with his desire, no matter how fiercely fought, was going to stop him this time. He shunned his feelings, pushing away from them. He just wanted a drop, that was all. Hunger was driving him, not a need to taste her, to have her.
Lilith hadn't seen him move. One second he'd been in front of her and the next he'd been behind, his body close to hers and his hands on her. She hadn't even had a chance to breathe out or blink. Her heart raced and body shook as she waited to see what he was going to do.
His cheek brushed her neck, cold skin against her cool. Instinct made her close her eyes, made her lean backwards into him as his slender fingers held her jaw and caressed her skin into flames.
Her eyes shot wide when a tiny pinprick of pain followed, a cat scratch by one of his fangs. They closed again when his lips grazed her skin and he sucked softly, stealing what had to have been no more than a drop of blood as his reward for beating her.
She hated herself for letting him do this to her, for breaking her vow, but she felt powerless to stop him. Deep inside, she didn't want to. As his lips left her, her sense returned and she jerked free of his grasp. She turned to face him, touched her neck, and frowned.
"That was a lesson,” he said and there was something in his eyes—concern or annoyance. She couldn't tell which. “Learn from it. Against me, you would not stand a chance."
He walked away, leaving her standing alone in the garden grasping her neck and again wondering what had gotten into her. She could have stopped him. So he'd beaten her. That didn't mean she'd had to let him do that to her. She'd promised herself that no one ever would. She'd let him do it, she'd known what was going to happen and she'd made no effort to stop him.
Her hand moved, following the path his had taken to her jaw. His touch had been fire. It hadn't been fear that had set her heart racing. It had been that touch, that gentle caress and silent command to submit to him, to surrender to her feelings.
She couldn't move.
He'd had her. She'd been so focused and she still hadn't seen him move.
The idea that he was so much stronger than her, that even in his weakened state he could beat her if he needed to, sent a chill to her heart. Other vampires would be coming to find him. What if his lord came? How could she expect to fight someone more powerful than Lincoln and win?
How could Lincoln expect her to protect him, when he was more capable of protecting himself?
She'd never felt so weak.
The walk back into the mansion was spent lost in her thoughts, mulling over the moment Lincoln had struck. She trudged into the building and looked around at the gathered people. The looks they gave her were nothing short of mistrustful. She kept her hand away from her neck, not wanting to draw anyone's attention there. It was nothing more than a scratch. Anything could have caused it.
She followed some female hunters into the cafeteria and then frowned when she saw the group of young male hunters that had always had it in for Lincoln ever since he'd arrived.
Her eyes widened when some people moved out of the way and she saw who they were looking at.
Lincoln.
They all grinned and started muttering things amongst themselves before the usual ringleader stepped forwards. She knew better than to step in straight away, even when she was growing tired of their taunting sessions. She had to let Lincoln stand his ground, regardless of her own feelings. He would be angry with her if he lost face.
She didn't know how he could remain so controlled. He couldn't go anywhere in the compound without that group finding him and provoking him. She listened to their barbs, their hurtled comments. They goaded him into changing, telling him they wanted to see his inner demon. They wanted to see the face of a killer, of the bastard that had taken so many lives. If they thought he was toothless and unlikely to kill them in their own compound, then they were completely wrong. Now that she knew him better, she knew how incredibly hard it was for him to stop himself from reacting to the hunters. To him, they were nothing but food, they were below him and he was far superior. As much as she hated to admit it, she thought he was right. He was high within his family, centuries old and powerful. He deserved more respect.
She shook her head to clear it of such thoughts. The hunters weren't backing down tonight and Lincoln was beginning to look tired of their game. Her earlier outburst had probably worn his restraint down. She didn't want this night to be the one that saw him snap and turn the canteen into blood bath.
Yet she couldn't bring herself to do anything about it. She didn't have the courage to stop them, to do something that would make her changing feelings towards Lincoln clear. There were already so many rumours about them. She didn't need to add fuel to that fire.
A blur caught her eye and her patience snapped as she saw the stake thud harmlessly into the wall. She was storming towards the group before she'd even thought about what she was doing. By the time she reached them, Lincoln was leaving.
Her gaze ran down his back to his hands. They were tight fists, trembling with his restraint. They told her how hard it had been for him to hold back and withstand tonight's attack on him.
"If I see you treat him like that again, if I hear one word that you've been out of place and mistreating our client, I will have you thrown into the cells and starved.” She stood over the men and their cocksure looks faded as she stared at them all, looking into their eyes in turn. “You should all start respecting him, before his patience breaks along with the promise he made me and you all die."
Their eyes widened, a stunned expression settling on their faces.
She glowered, her hands on her hips. “I'd like to see you try to defeat him."
With that, she turned her back on them, no longer willing to intervene if they pushed Lincoln too far. They would get what they deserved. This wasn't a game. Hunting vampires wasn't something to be taken lightly. The moment you lost respect for their superior abilities was the moment you died. Lincoln had proven that to her tonight.
She raced to catch up with him and skidded to a halt when she barged through the front doors and out into the crisp night air. He stood just in front of her.
"Where do you think you're going?” she panted, a little out of breath from having to run.
He didn't turn to look at her. His eyes remained fixed on the heavens. She looked there too, seeing the moon veiled by thin clouds, the edge of its full disc blurred by them.
"What would you like to hear?” he said, a note of resignation in his voice. “That I am nipping out to the bloody twenty-four hour petrol station for some snacks or maybe that I am going to a nightclub to pick myself up a quick fuck and some booze ... what is acceptable?"
His words stung her and she'd flinched at the sexual reference. For some reason the idea of him having sex with someone disturbed her and she closed her eyes against the image of it.
"What would make you satisfied?” His breath was cool against her face. She could sense how close he was without even trying. Every nerve in her body was screaming in response to the proximity of his.
She didn't know what to say.
Would she rather he said he was going out to kill? It's what she did on a nightly basis wasn't it? She went out and killed his kind. He went out and killed hers. Only his had a true purpose. He needed to kill in order to survive.
"I am not human,” he whispered into her ear and she lowered her head away from him, not even considering that she was exposing her neck. His breath tickled her throat, sent a shiver of pleasure through her. She opened her eyes and stared at his boots. The toe of his right boot was against the inside of her left. He could easily tip her off balance and kill her. She had to move, only she couldn't. Her heart was beating steadily, telling her to remain where she was, where she wanted to be. Close to him. “I am not going to lie to placate you. I am going out to kill someone, before I kill those little bastards."
He stepped back and no relief filled her, only regret.
"What, are you not going to stop me?” he said and she looked at him. He cocked his head to one side, face shadowed. His dark eyes locked with hers, intent and deadly. He wanted to provoke her. He was trying to draw something out of her. She shut everything down, closing her mind against the insane thoughts that kept her awake each day. “You are not going to threaten me like they do or tell me that it is wrong to eat to live, like you do? How many animals have you eaten, Lilith?"
"You eat people, not animals."
He laughed, deep and loud, and she saw a glint of fangs in the low light from the house. It thrilled her to think he'd again been so close to her in his vampire guise.
He stepped up to her, staring right down into her eyes with his red ones.
"You're all animals!"
He turned and walked away, leaving her watching his retreating back and shivering with the anger she'd felt in his words.
"What're you then?” she whispered into the night.
He laughed in the distance.
"The Devil's child."
Lincoln stared at the cloud-scattered sky. The moon was edging lower, enormous against its black velvet backdrop. Bright stars stood out amongst the rest, planets he'd once studied cutting through constellations he knew so well. Eternity could grant you so much for such a small price. Had he been given the choice, he would have chosen this life for himself, regardless of the peril he now found himself in. It was worth it, as long as he continued to live. It was worth any sum to sit like this and watch the forces of nature make themselves felt. He'd stood in awe of the power of the universe, his eyes reflecting a thousand falling stars. He'd voyaged far on the tall ships of old, marvelling at the enormity of the sea and her strength. He'd stared in fascination, captured by the immense beauty of the mountains and the treacherous avalanches that thundered down their cragged faces.
All this he'd seen only because he was immortal.
If he'd remained human, he would have lived and died in London, never venturing forth into the world to take in her delights, and never feeling the power he commanded now.
Yet there was one thing he had never been able to retain. It had always cheated him, giving him a moment's glimpse of it and then slipping through his fingers.
Love.
He traced the mark on his palm with the fingers of his other hand.
Centuries of life and he'd been unable to grasp hold of love and keep it. His one love as an immortal had turned her back on him in favour of another. He'd thought she had taken his heart with her, and shattered all hope of finding this elusive feeling again.
He dragged in a breath and sighed it out.
Then things had changed.
Standing on the very brink of death, backed into a corner and forced to go against his nature, he had found himself face to face with one who stirred feelings he'd long forgotten existed.
Lilith.
Her name was a bittersweet word, one that tasted like honey to his heart and poisoned his mind. The laws forbade it. His instincts rebelled against it. Yet his heart held out and stood firm. He wanted her.
Whether it was love or not, he couldn't tell.
He wanted her though. Not to possess her like a doll, but to stand at her side until Hell swallowed them both for eternity. It was a dangerous feeling and one he had to shun. He couldn't allow it, and she would never consider it.
A fast heartbeat caught his attention. He looked up from his seat on the wall of the cemetery and scanned the street in both directions. In the distance was a woman. He sniffed. She wasn't drunk so her heart wasn't racing for that reason. Perhaps she was in a hurry. As she neared, he caught a better whiff of her scent. Fear.
He hopped down from the wall and leaned against it in a casual manner. She was getting close now. Her heart skipped a beat. She'd noticed him.
She lowered her head and hunched up, wrapping her arms across her chest in a protective gesture. Her eyes remained downcast as she approached, as though if she didn't see him, he wasn't there.
He let her pass him and then took a step away from the wall.
"Is something wrong?” he said and she stopped dead, her shoulders tensing. “Are you in trouble?"
She looked over her shoulder at him. Her eyes flickered to the street behind him and then back again.
"Is someone following you?” he said and glanced down the road in the direction she'd looked. “Shall I call the police?"
She shook her head. Good girl. A woman didn't like to feel weak. His teeth itched.
"Are you sure you are alright?"
She nodded this time, unfolded her arms and pushed her short dark hair from her face. “I just got spooked by a cat or something ... that's all. Ridiculous, huh?"
He stepped under the streetlight so she could see him better and smiled broadly at her.
"Not at all,” he said, putting on the charm and increasing his smile. She was staring now. Good looks were always a bonus when hunting. “A beautiful woman like you should not be out alone at so late an hour."
She blushed. He could almost feel the heat of her blood warming him already. He took another step in her direction.
"Could I call you a cab?"
"No,” she said a little too quickly. “I mean, I only live around the corner."
"I see.” He looked back along the street. “Well, good night then."
He started to walk away, counting the seconds that passed.
"Wait!"
He grinned in the darkness and walked backwards until he was under a streetlight again. He spun on his heel to face her.
"Yes?” he said, giving her another innocent but seductive look.
"I ... thank you."
"Thank me?” He went for confused this time. Girls always fell for the handsome and helpful stranger routine. It added a little fun to his hunt to play with them.
"For even asking. No one asks anymore ... everyone just cares about themselves."
He looked shocked. It was a hard face to pull considering he had to open his mouth and his teeth were already easing into their sharpened state.
He forced a sigh and switched to a thoughtful face. “It's true I suppose."
His senses reached out in all directions, searching for anyone else nearby. He detected one other signature. That one didn't concern him.
Before the woman could say another word, he had covered her mouth, moved around behind her and dragged her into the shadows. He pulled her head back and to the side to give him access to her throat and sunk his teeth into her. The warm rush of blood that filled his mouth was too much. It felt like years since he'd killed.
The woman jerked against him, struggling now even though it was pointless. He wasn't going to let her go. He bit down harder and dug his claws into her side where he had his arm wrapped around her waist. His eyes slipped shut as the blood in his veins warmed, revitalised by hers. He felt a little giddy as he drank deeper, eager for more.
Only he couldn't taste her blood, not after the initial mouthful.
His senses were full of the sweet taste of Lilith's blood and the desire that tiny trace he'd taken from her had stirred. He growled and lost control, tightening his grip on the woman until she began to choke. Her heart faltered. He didn't stop. He sucked harder, desperate for more, hungry for Lilith's blood.
The moment the woman's heart stopped, he released her. Leaning his head back, he kept his eyes closed, relishing the new warmth in his body and the heady sensations stirred by her blood.
Lilith's blood.
Warm liquid oozed down his chin to his jaw, trickling onto his neck. His tongue swept along his lips, capturing all that he could. There was nothing as fulfilling as feeding. It stirred passion in his veins in a way nothing else could. It made him feel the strength inherent to his kind. It made him feel alive.
He wanted more.
His eyes opened and he looked at the body lying crumpled and discarded on the floor.
She hadn't been enough to sate this need, to slake his thirst. It had to be Lilith's blood.
She was watching.
He could feel her.
Was she disgusted by what he'd done? Didn't it bother her?
He'd taken a life and she wasn't attacking him.
She was motionless, her breathing steady and her heart only a little faster than normal.
He turned and waited, staring up the quiet street. The trees swayed and swished in the light breeze. It was cool against his skin. Small clouds swept across the sky, pale and silvery in the moonlight. A distant sound of cars carried on the air.
Lilith stepped out onto the path in front of him twenty metres away.
She stared at him, her silence oppressive and meaningful.
She didn't need to say anything to let him know her feelings. He'd upset her with his spiteful words earlier tonight and the killing of the woman. In reality, he'd done that to spite her too. She'd needed a reminder of what he was and he'd been all too happy to give her one.
Another signature pricked his senses. It was close. He frowned at Lilith.
His instinct screamed.
"Run!"
She gave him a startled look and he knew she'd felt it too. She wasn't moving. Her eyes were so wide as she stared at him, full of fear that kept her immobile. He ran at her, past her, and looked straight into the eyes of the vampire not five foot behind her.
His teeth and claws extended instantaneously, his eyes switching to reveal his true face. He lunged at the guard, knocking him flying and sending them both crashing to the pavement.
There was nothing else on his senses. Just one guard? He must be good.
Lincoln tried to catch a glimpse of his face as he fought to protect himself. The guard hit him hard in the stomach, forcing blood up into his mouth. Lincoln spat it at him. It was never wise to fight on a full stomach. The guard growled and Lincoln slashed across his face.
He couldn't sense Lilith. He hoped to the Devil that she had the good sense to keep out of this fight. There was nothing she could do in this one. She would only prove a distraction and get herself hurt.
Determined to make sure she was safe, he scraped his claws down the guard's chest, leaving ragged marks in the material of his uniform, and then sprang to his feet and ran a short distance into the graveyard. The guard followed. Duty was of utmost importance to the guards. Lincoln ran deeper into the headstones, luring the vampire away from Lilith. This guard had a mission—capture him.
That mission would be his downfall.
The order to bring him back alive would weaken his attacks and leave him open. Whatever this pact was, it was important enough that Mikael was sending his best guards to retrieve him.
He turned and faced the guard, wishing he had a weapon with him now. He hated fighting bare-fist. It was hardly worthy of his standing. It made him feel like a weakling—unrefined, common and happy to fight with fists and fangs.
He roared at the guard, satisfied when the man flinched and began to circle cautiously. He could look for weak spots all he wanted. Lincoln wasn't going to let him take him back there. It was a death sentence. He should never have gone looking. It was a foolish mistake to make and the vision of darkness and flame haunted his every waking step and sleepless day.
He couldn't go back there.
He wouldn't.
Another signature stirred his senses and he knew without looking that Lilith had joined them. Stupid girl.
"Stay out of this!” he said and glanced at her, only taking his eyes off the guard long enough to see her stop around thirty metres from them.
She was too close.
The guard smirked. Lincoln attacked before he had a chance to go through with the thought he'd seen cross his mind. He punched the guard solidly across the jaw, grabbed his long dark hair and brought his head down hard on his knee. The guard growled and stumbled backwards. He recovered quickly.
Lincoln moved fast to block his attack, wanting to lure the guard away from Lilith again. The guard attacked, swift and hard. Lincoln deflected the first two punches. The third caught him across the cheek and sent his mind reeling. He roared again, intimidating the guard with his increasing anger. Giving himself over to his instinct, he slashed repeatedly at the guard, his lust for violence growing inside him until he was oblivious to any strikes that connected with him.
He growled and grabbed the guard's throat, ignoring every punch and kick to his stomach. Dragging the guard towards him, he bit his neck and gave a sharp pull on his blood. Images flooded his mind and he drank deeper, both to get them into some semblance of order and to weaken his attacker.
The guard roared and clawed at him, cutting his shoulder and neck. Lincoln withdrew his fangs and caught one of the guard's arms to stop him from inflicting so much damage. A clear set of memories came to him. Mikael. The guard's orders were to capture him and bring him back to London. Mikael was coming.
Someone screamed.
Lilith.
He saw the guard had wrestled free of his grasp while he'd been lost in his blood's memories. Lilith was fighting him, as fierce and hard as she could. Her speed was no match for the guard's, her strength nothing more than a child's when compared with his.
Before Lincoln could reach her, the guard had slashed down her arm, cutting her flesh to ribbons. Lincoln tackled the man, growling at Lilith to tell her to keep out of it. He was surprised when she backed off a step as though she'd understood the command. She clutched her shoulder. His momentary distraction in checking her cost him dearly. The guard shoved his claws deep into his side and caught the wound that the aleaeries had inflicted. It reopened, spilling blood.
There was a blur and the guard was gone.
Horror filled Lincoln as he turned, the rich smell of blood telling him what had happened. She hadn't screamed. She was standing with her hand to her bloodied chest, her face ashen and full of shock. The guard was beside her, his claws still red with her blood. He turned to attack again. Lincoln lost all control.
Launching himself at the guard, he grabbed his neck and threw him to the ground. He pinned him there, anger fuelling his movements as his senses remained locked on Lilith, monitoring her vitals. She collapsed to the ground. She was fading. There was no way she could survive such a mortal wound. He snarled and dug his claws into the guard's cheeks, puncturing them. The guard cried out in pain. It wasn't enough. He wanted more. He wanted the man to suffer for what he'd done to Lilith.
There wasn't time. A quiet voice told him to hurry, to go to her, to try to save her.
He twisted the guard's neck with such force his head tore clean from his body.
Lincoln breathed hard, anger still coursing through his veins and violence whispering her seductive words to his heart. He wanted more. He needed more. He tensed his jaw and pulled his fist back. With a roar, he punched a hole in the guard's chest and ripped out his heart.
He stared at it, hearing the faltering beat of Lilith's.
It shocked him into moving.
It filled him with an urgent need to save her at all costs.
Rushing to her, he picked her up off the dirt and cradled her close. Blood spilled from the wound on her chest. He stared at it, both intoxicated and sickened by the scent. He could smell death.
"Keep your hand on it, Lilith,” he whispered close to her ear, his brow furrowed as he held her to him and started to walk. “Press down hard and breathe slow."
She muttered something. The pain in her was so intense that he could sense it. He could sense her life ebbing away. He blinked to clear his vision, cursing the tears that fell and the despair that had caused them. He was losing her.
He looked down at her hand where it pressed against her chest in a desperate attempt to stem the flow of blood. It pumped out from between her fingers, spilling onto her chest and drenching her black top and jacket. What had she been thinking? He'd told her to stay out of it, had tried to protect her from the fight. Hadn't she listened to him earlier? She had no chance against one as powerful as him.
She shivered and moaned, her face screwing up in pain. He held her closer.
"Hold on, Lilith,” he whispered into her ear and she groaned again. He doubled his pace, eyes searching for somewhere safe. There was a row of old crypts in the distance. One of those would have to do. He didn't have time to get her back to the compound. “Hold on."
He growled, angry with himself for not stopping her from stepping in. He should have lured the guard away again the second he'd realised she'd followed him. He shouldn't have let this happen.
He kicked the door to the biggest crypt in and hurried inside, taking her far into the shadows. His heightened vision helped him see in the dark and find a clear spot where he could lay her down. Satisfied with his distance from the door, he knelt and carefully lowered Lilith to the ground. She shivered and winced. He listened, fearing the worst. Her heart was struggling. There was no time to lose.
Racing back to the door, he closed it and used one of the stone lids of the four sarcophagi contained in the room to barricade it.
He was back by Lilith's side in the blink of an eye, his hand covering hers and his chest aching as she looked at him with so much fear. Perhaps humans did fear death after all.
Blood spotted her pale face. He touched her cheek with his free hand and smiled, hoping it would reassure her and help her remain calm.
"I need to take a look,” he said and removed her jacket, careful not to jostle or hurt her. The wound on her shoulder was superficial and would be easily closed. His gaze flicked to the three marks across her chest and their joined bloodied hands. It would be a miracle if he could fix that one. He had to try though. He couldn't let her go without a fight.
Rolling her jacket up, he placed it under her head. The floor was cold but he had no way of getting her off it. He didn't have time to start a fire to keep her warm and it would arouse too much suspicion. There could be other vampires in the area looking for him. He couldn't risk an attack while he was occupied with saving her.
"Keep calm, Lilith, and do not let go,” he whispered. “I can fix this for you if you will allow me to."
She looked at him with enormous fear-filled eyes. There was so much pain in them. He wanted to take it all away for her, and even if he failed to save her there was a way to do that. She would hate him though. His life wasn't for her. He had to keep her alive and successfully heal her, if only to stop himself from breaking down and turning her.
He ran his fingers over her forehead and looked deep into her eyes.
"Try to relax and focus on your breathing."
She nodded and tears slipped down her cheeks. He wiped them away, knowing she wouldn't want to look weak in front of him. He ached for her, his anger pressed deep down inside and coiled like a snake waiting to strike. He held it back, restrained it, and focused on her. A part of him said it was wrong to save her. The rest said he had to, regardless of how selfish it made him feel. He needed her.
The smell of her blood was intoxicating, speaking to him on so many levels, saying so much, all the things she couldn't.
He leaned over her, hesitated a moment before touching his tongue to her chest. She whimpered and tensed. He took hold of her hand and held it, surprised when her fingers wrapped tightly around his. He wanted to tell her that everything was going to be all right. Instead, he focused on cleaning the cuts. He didn't have time to speak, not even to reassure her. He had to work fast if he was going to seal her wounds.
She had such strong blood. It was different to any humans’ he'd ever tasted. It piqued his curiosity. He pushed it to the back of his mind with his anger and fear. Once he'd ensured she would live, he could plan his revenge on Mikael and he could ponder why Lilith was so different to every human he'd met in his long life.
He cleaned the first of the cuts on her chest. It was deep and ragged. The bleeding slowed after the first pass, his saliva working quickly to seal the blood vessels and stem the flow. He began to clean the second. Lilith jerked up, crying out in pain and squeezing his hand so hard it actually hurt.
"Stop!” she screamed and he held her head down with his other hand, restraining her. “Let me die ... please?"
He looked at her, at the defeat in her eyes.
He refused to let her die.
He couldn't.
Closing his eyes, he kept her head held down against her jacket to stop her from moving and began cleaning the second wound again. It was slow work. He monitored her heartbeat, her laboured breathing deafening him. He had to save her.
He lapped at the end of the second cut and moved onto the third. It was the lowest on her chest. He noticed the guard's claw had gone straight through the thin strap of her black top and cut it. He lowered the top a little, keeping her breast covered as best he could. The wound grazed the smooth curve of it. He shifted position and licked the end of the cut, working his way down until he reached her breast. His eyes closed and he breathed deep, an ache stirring inside of him as he ran his tongue over her left breast. She shuddered beneath him, a moan of pain escaping her. He held her hand tighter, showing her that he was still there for her.
When he'd reached the end of the wound, he went back and cleaned it again. Her skin was soft beneath his touch, warm and alluring with its sweet fragrance. He brushed her side with the thumb of his hand holding hers, found pleasure in caressing and tasting her. Her breathing was shallow, in control, and her heart was beating steady but too slow for his liking. He licked her harder, tasting her flesh, compelled by her blood.
Tearing himself away, he moved to the next cut, his eyes opening and looking at her face, never leaving her as he made sure she would survive. A growl, low and commanding, escaped him when she tried to move again. She whispered something, incoherent things that didn't make sense. Her voice was strained, hoarse. Her heart picked up speed.
"Save your breath,” he said and held her down. “Focus."
He shifted so he was above her, his hands either side of her arms. Lowering his head, he licked the first cut on her shoulder, working slowly to seal each one. Her blood was so strong. Too intoxicating. His head spun and he licked harder, desperate for more. A glance at her chest had him stirring painfully in his jeans and, no matter how hard he fought, he couldn't contain his desire. He moved back to her chest, rougher this time, hungry for her. He wanted to taste her. He wanted her, even when it made no sense. He didn't care if he hurt her. He had to taste her.
His tongue lapped the wounds, laved her skin. Intoxicated by her blood, he kept going, losing all restraint. It spoke to him. It begged him to touch her. Pain made his fingers tense, his claws scraping the concrete floor of the crypt. He ignored it, tried to shut it away with the rest of his feelings. It wouldn't go away. It was too strong, making his instinct drive him. He was delirious with the pleasure of her blood and the pain burning inside of him.
Tracing his fingers across her chest, he eased her top lower until the material barely covered her nipple. He kissed the curve of her breast, absorbing her softness and her scent.
She breathed faster.
He licked the deepest wound on her chest, capturing the stray drops of blood that had broken to the surface, and then followed the trail of them to her neck. His whole body burned with need. Flicking his tongue out, he lapped up the blood that had settled in the notch between her collarbones. She moved and he could feel her watching him.
He drew back and looked at her.
Her eyes were half-open, fixed on his. She raised a hand and touched his lips. A shiver coursed through him, making him want to growl at the sensations stirred by such a barely-there caress.
She said nothing. She didn't need words to tell him what she was thinking and feeling. It was all there in her eyes. She could feel this connection between them as keenly as he could. The attraction was mutual.
His heart clenched and his eyes half closed. His lip tingled where she continued to touch it, fingers resting lightly against it. Regardless of the blood staining it and the things he'd done tonight, she had looked at him with eyes that expressed something incredible, something that stirred his blood more than anything else.
He looked into her eyes, his mind quiet and focused, his thoughts wholly with her.
"Esto perpetua,” he whispered, husky and low.
"Always,” she said and closed her eyes.
He rolled onto his back beside her, tired, drowsy with pain and buzzing from the taste of her. His eyes refused to focus on the ceiling above. They swam out of focus as his head began to throb and ache. His eyelids felt heavy, too heavy to keep open. He locked his senses on her, making sure she was going to be all right, and then slipped away.
Lincoln's body was a riot of pain, a dull throbbing that set his teeth on edge. He frowned, keeping his eyes closed against the world, waiting for someone to turn off the jackhammer in his head.
Lilith was watching him. He could feel her eyes on him, boring into him in that way only hers could. Keeping still, he tried to remember what had happened last night. He remembered arguing with her and then leaving, and recalled killing the woman. He'd been hurt somewhere along the line though.
Opening his eyes, he looked at Lilith. She was touching the wounds on her chest, light tentative strokes as she frowned in concentration. He propped himself up on his elbows with great effort. Raw pain burned his side.
"Don't move,” she said and turned her frown on him. “You're hurt."
The sight of the cuts on her chest surprised him. They were already starting to heal, far quicker than he'd expected. He remembered sealing her wounds now. Everything was slowly coming back. Her blood was strong and so different to a normal human's. It had tasted closer to vampire blood. Had someone been playing god with her? He'd heard about the new experiments on hunters. He stared at her. Maybe he was wrong. She seemed normal enough, although her senses were better than most hunters’ were.
"I don't have special healing powers like you do. I can't lick your wounds and magically make them go away.” She offered him a quiet smile.
The moment she leaned forwards and touched him, it all came back to him, as swift and hard as a kick in the balls. He scooted backwards, mind reeling as it attempted to make sense of everything. She'd been hurt. He'd healed her. He'd said those words.
The Devil she'd responded.
Panic drove him to his feet and he moved a good few feet away from her, pacing like a caged panther as he tried to comprehend what he'd done and why. He winced as he turned and she gave him a look that said she'd seen it. He couldn't deny that he was hurt. Pressing his hand to his side, he frowned and looked at her, thankful that she had pulled her jacket closed now.
What had he been thinking?
Was her blood that strong, that alluring and intoxicating that it had driven him out of his mind enough for him to utter those words?
He thanked the Devil she wasn't an immortal. They'd have no hold over her, not even with her response.
She looked up at him from where she was sat on the floor, her eyes holding a trace of hurt, as though he'd upset her by not letting her inspect his injuries.
He reached out a little with his senses to test the connection between them. Nothing. He sighed with relief.
It was short lived.
She stood with effort and he could feel a glimmer of her pain, a faint thread of it inside his heart. He cursed and distanced himself, not wanting to face facts. It wasn't possible. She couldn't be. She was human.
"It's getting dark out,” she said, moving towards him, past him, heading for the door.
He stared at her back, unable to gather his scattered thoughts and make sense of them.
It wasn't possible.
He frowned, glared at the floor as he struggled to recall the exact taste of her blood. There had been no memories in it. She was human after all. He was being too sensitive, imagining things that weren't possible. The pain was making him delirious.
She opened the door.
"Careful!” he shouted before he could think. A terrible fear had gripped him, clenching his gut and forcing a reaction.
She looked back at him, bathed in the last rays of the dying sun.
She wasn't a vampire.
"It wouldn't have reached you,” she said, holding the door open and staring at him as though he'd gone mad.
She'd thought he was worried about his own safety. Why had he worried about hers?
The ache in his head worsened. Questions crowded it and he let them come, he let them fill his mind until he couldn't think or speak. He wanted to escape from what he'd done. Something told him that wasn't going to be possible.
He'd said those words, the ones he'd never thought he'd say to anyone, let alone a human.
Now he needed to know more about her. Her acute senses had been suspicious before, intriguing. When he coupled that with the unique taste of her blood, he found himself desperate to discover her heritage. She had a sister who had died at the hands of a Vehemens. She'd never mentioned any other family.
He watched the last ray of sunlight leave the world.
He had to get her back to the compound. The answers he needed were there, he knew it.
She walked out of the door and he followed her in silence, moving slow to conserve energy and to give the night time to fall before they reached the open streets. Lilith was walking slowly too. He didn't dare use his senses to see if she was in pain. He was afraid of what he'd find.
There was no connection.
She wasn't a vampire.
She was human.
There was no way a connection, a claim, could be placed between a vampire and a human. He'd heard of it between a werewolf and a vampire. There had even been plans of an attempt to mate a human and a vampire. It had never taken place in the end. There was no way it would have succeeded. It couldn't happen.
It was impossible.
"I can get you some blood when we get back,” she said, drawing his attention to her.
He studied her profile. She was looking straight ahead, her dark eyes clear and showing no trace of hurt now. How had she healed so well so quickly? The wounds were closing now, at a speed almost that of a vampire.
It troubled him.
Even with his saliva sealing the cuts, the human body couldn't repair so much damage in the course of half a day.
He didn't notice any of the journey to the mansion house. It was in front of him before he'd even blinked. He looked up at the imposing height of the sandstone building, hoping the answers he needed were really in there. He had to know. He had to be certain that she was human and he was imagining this sliver of a connection between them.
It was quiet when they entered. The hour was still early. The first group of hunters couldn't have left longer than thirty minutes ago. Normally there were groups of hunters milling around the halls. Tonight there was no one.
A door opened down a distant corridor and hasty steps echoed towards them. He looked up at the balcony of the first floor in time to see Lilith's superior, Daniel, appear. He looked flustered.
"Where have you been?” he said, hurrying down the steps to her.
Lincoln watched Daniel closely. If he really had claimed Lilith and Daniel touched her, she wouldn't take it well. Newly claimed females spurned the touch of another male. It revolted them.
Unfortunately, Daniel didn't touch Lilith. She backed away a step before he could reach her.
"What happened?” Daniel said with a glance at the wounds on her chest.
"There was another Vehemens.” Her voice was quiet.
Lincoln stepped forwards. “It was a high guard. Lilith was injured during the fight. She requires medical assistance."
Lilith looked at him. He didn't look at her. He kept his eyes fixed on Daniel.
"Of course, immediately.” Daniel hesitated a moment, his eyes narrowing briefly into a questioning look, and then he turned to Lilith. “Come with me. There's a meeting happening that requires everyone's attendance but you will be excused. I don't think a long arduous meeting is what anyone needs, but Andrew has insisted on it."
Lincoln watched them go and was stunned when Lilith looked back at him with gratitude in her eyes. There was no need to thank him for his omission. He knew all too well that she would have hated him had he mentioned that he'd sealed her wounds for her.
When they were out of sight, he walked swiftly down the hall to Daniel's office. Daniel would take Lilith to the infirmary and then return to his meeting. He didn't know how long that would keep Daniel away so he had to be quick if he wanted to avoid discovery.
Reaching Daniel's office, he checked that he was alone and then tried the door. It was unlocked. He slipped inside and didn't turn the light on. The computer was still on, the light of the screen illuminating the empty leather chair. He walked silently across the room and slid into the chair. His side ached and he resisted the temptation to press his hand to it. He couldn't risk leaving any trace of blood or sign that he'd been here.
He frowned at the small silver and black laptop and swirled his finger around on the touch pad. The screensaver disappeared. He was amused to see that the computer was unlocked. Daniel clearly didn't give a damn about security. He wasn't going to complain. He didn't have time to sit here playing guess the password anyway.
Using his finger to guide the pointer on screen, he went to the desktop and found what he was looking for. He double-clicked the program icon and waited while it loaded. It ran through a database and then a dark blue screen appeared. The latest reports from hunters across the globe loaded on the left in bright white text. On the right, a search box appeared along with an empty box below it. He scanned the reports for any entries that might signal anything to do with the pact. It seemed they mainly tracked weaklings. There was the odd report of hunters meeting a vampire of the pure bloodlines. None of them were in England.
He typed Lilith's name into the box and hit search.
In the panel below the search box, several women named Lilith appeared.
Only one had no second name.
It had to be her.
He clicked it and the main panel on the left was suddenly full of her details. Red text above her picture declared that the information was top secret. The picture of her was a little out of date. She looked much younger than she was now and far less world-weary. His eyes scanned the page. Her height, weight, everything was recorded. He frowned at the empty space next to the label for parents. She had to have parents.
Below it was a note.
Displays genetic mutation similar to her sister, Eve. No sign of any other abnormality has arisen since second testing. No record of blood degenerating. DNA remains stable. No further testing required.
He frowned. Testing? Genetic mutation? Had they experimented on her?
He went to the search box and typed in ‘genetic mutation DNA'.
Over thirty entries appeared in the panel below. He scanned the titles, a mix of reports and personnel entries. There were two Eve's among them.
He clicked the first. It was a young girl, identical to Lilith. Unsurprisingly it also held the top secret label. Below her name was a red-bordered box. It didn't say she was deceased. It said that she was a Vehemens. Daniel hadn't told Lilith. He'd said that Eve was dead. He'd lied to Lilith. She couldn't know. She thought her sister was dead. He growled and then calmed himself and continued his search. There was no record of parents and the notes contained a similar statement to her sister's.
He clicked the second Eve.
It was a woman with dark hair, as young looking as Lilith and the first Eve. Another top secret file. Her details declared that she had retired many years ago. Judging by her date of birth, she would still have been younger than Daniel. It seemed strange that a hunter would retire so young.
The box for notes was empty. The reports below it ended over fifteen years ago. He stopped scanning the page when he noticed the title of the last entry.
Genetic manipulation of foetuses resulted in mutated DNA.
He hesitated, listened hard to see if anyone was coming, and then clicked on it. The air felt suddenly thick and heavy, and he found himself leaning forwards as the page loaded.
It was a record from a Dr Michael Steinbeck.
It has been eight years since the children were successfully brought into this world. At the time, tests concluded that both girls were healthy and showed no abnormalities. I must now report, however, that further testing following an incident has shown that both Eve and Lilith harbour abilities born of the DNA used to genetically alter them whilst they were in their mother's womb. The situation must be monitored closely. We will retest them when they reach maturity. Eve has not been informed.
He closed the record and clicked the one dated before it.
Eve has been granted her request. The artificially inseminated egg has become two foetuses. The attempt to use the data Eve recovered on DNA manipulation was successful. Both children are likely to bear their father's genetic imprint. I only hope that they remain human. A decision about their future will be made should they display any traits inherent to a vampire. Eve should not be told if the decision is to terminate. Eve is happy. It is the first time she has been without need for anti-depressants since the death of Oneiric.
Lincoln immediately typed the name into the search. If Eve had requested the blood of a vampire be used to alter her unborn children's DNA, it must have belonged to the man she loved.
Oneiric.
The program found several entries involving that name. At the top was one that bore his name and his name alone. He clicked it, trepidation setting his nerves alight as he took one step closer to the truth. If Oneiric was indeed a vampire, there was a chance that Lilith's blood was part vampire.
If that were the case, he could be in serious trouble.
Why had he uttered those words?
What the Devil had possessed him?
Oneiric's information appeared on the screen. A blue label in the top left contained one word and confirmed his worst fear. Vampire.
He was doomed.
No, there was still a chance that it hadn't meant a thing. She wasn't wholly vampire and they hadn't exchanged all of the words necessary for a claiming.
He read Oneiric's details. Vehemens. Disappeared, presumed dead. Owned a club named One in the local vicinity. His eyes scanned back to the presumed dead statement. Why was he presumed dead? There were no other details to back up the statement.
He looked at the address of the club.
The humans had probably never even tried to find out whether Oneiric was alive or not. The doctor's report gave him the impression that he resented Eve's request to bear the children of a vampire. She had obviously loved Oneiric, enough that she hadn't wanted to let him go. Why had they withheld information from her? Humans were despicable.
He clicked back to the original Eve's profile and read the last report again.
They'd not told her that her children had the traits of a vampire.
They'd not told Lilith of her heritage. She couldn't possibly know. She hated vampires so much that it was all the evidence he needed that no one had told her. She wouldn't hate him if she knew what blood ran in her veins.
He snarled.
Who were these people that they withheld information from their hunters?
How dare they keep things from Lilith like this?
He clenched his fists to stop himself from swiping his arm across the table and smashing everything.
His head jerked up. A noise. Footsteps. Someone was coming. More people. The meeting must have ended. He closed the program and was at the door in less than a heartbeat. A split second later, he was in the entrance hall. He began pacing it, quiet and thoughtful, as though he'd been there the whole time. The hunters walked past him, some going out and a few returning. There were mumbled conversations, greetings to each other mixed with comments about him. He ignored those. Thoughts of Lilith and her blood occupied his mind.
A vampire's DNA.
The humans had gone too far. This explained how they had been enhancing selected hunters. So far, it had only been a handful and the Law Keepers had disposed of them. What if the humans had more success and were able to raise their hunters’ strength to that of his kind and not just a weakling? It wouldn't happen. The Law Keepers and leaders of the bloodlines would find a way to stop it.
"I didn't realise you were still here,” Daniel said and Lincoln suppressed his desire to kill the man for what he'd done. What kind of friend hid the truth from someone they supposedly cared for? How could Daniel look Lilith in the eye and lie to her?
"Is she well?” He forced a smile and held his growl at bay. He couldn't let Daniel know that he'd discovered the truth.
"She is resting, but you can see her if you must."
He raised an eyebrow at the tone Daniel had used—loathing tainted with distrust. One so untrustworthy didn't have the right to show such feelings towards him.
"I must.” Lincoln walked straight past him and followed his nose to the infirmary. The rich smell of blood was enticing.
He closed his eyes briefly and switched to Lilith's scent, following the soft fragrance and letting it lead him wherever it may. He found her in a bed nearest a large square window at the end of a long room. She was staring out of it, her look distant and melancholy. He could almost feel the emotions that were written across her face—being forced to rest was making her feel weak. He wanted nothing more than to make her feel strong, to take her away from this place of death and disease and teach her how to be like him, to use the blood in her veins and her genetic legacy to become near invincible. All she had to do was embrace it, to listen to the words the night must speak to her.
Her gaze swept to him and she pulled the covers up over her bare stomach, leaving only her bandaged chest visible.
"They say I'll only be here a couple of days.” Misery strained her voice and showed through her eyes. “I can still research. Don't worry about that."
He sat on the empty bed beside hers. She stared at her hands, her fingers toying with each other. She hated it. He hated feeling weak too. All of his species did. To rob them of their strength was to steal away all their pride. He watched the motion of her fingers against each other, remembering holding her hand last night. His fingers curled against his palm. He wanted to hold it again, to reassure her now that being in that bed didn't mean she was trapped or weak. She was strong in her heart.
"If you could bring the books, or maybe the researchers...” She trailed off and he looked at her to see her frowning at him. “I can still work."
"I know,” he said and stood. “Rest a while. I must go somewhere."
He expected her to be shocked, to try to talk him out of it. She just stared at him with sadness reflected in her face.
"How long will you be gone?"
"No more than a night."
Her look shifted now, her eyebrows knitting tight and darkness entering her eyes. “You'll be vulnerable."
"Not where I am going."
She pushed herself up on the bed. “I should go with you."
"No.” He pressed a hand against her bare shoulder, a thrill running through him as his fingers grazed her silky skin. “I cannot bring you."
The darkness faded to hurt that cut him to the core, twisting his insides until his chest echoed the pain staring up at him.
He wished he could take her with him. It wasn't possible, no matter how much he wanted it. It would defeat the purpose of why he was leaving. He needed the distance. He needed to be sure of his feelings for her. He needed more answers.
Without another word, he turned and walked away. He closed his eyes, feeling her watching him, sensing her confusion and anger. It was only a day. He would return to her tomorrow night. He couldn't be away from her for longer than that right now.
Fear clenched his heart when he stepped over the mansion's threshold and out into the night.
The growing distance between himself and Lilith tore at him, leaving a strange emptiness inside. It lingered there, not quite tangible, neither strong nor weak. It was an odd feeling, as though a part of him had suddenly disappeared.
The walk into the city was slower than he'd wanted it to be, the pain in his side holding him back. He would have run if he could, would have sprinted to release the pent up feelings inside of him and let himself go a little. It wasn't long before he'd found the quiet quarter of the city where the club was. It was gloomy, dank and the air held a hint of danger. The club's neon sign was off. He tried the door. It was open.
He walked in and closed it behind him.
"Get out!” Someone jumped over the dark bar to his right and started towards him. A vampire. A Vehemens. This would be interesting. Someone else flicked some switches, another Vehemens, and the dim lights above buzzed into life. “We're closed. Piss off!"
He growled. The sure steps of the two men faltered for a second but they quickly regained their stride. If they meant to intimidate him, they were going to be sorely disappointed.
They fell into line beside each other. Both were taller than him and of a much broader build. Their black t-shirts stretched tight over their muscled bodies like a second skin. He stood still, watching them with an air of boredom.
"I said get out,” the fair-haired one stepped up to him. The darker-haired one hung back, his posture defensive. They knew he was a vampire and had probably sensed he was far older than them.
"I am looking for someone."
"Are you deaf? We're closed, mate. Now get the fuck out!” The darker-haired one had a definite cockney accent and no manners.
Maybe he should teach them some.
"I want to know if Oneiric lives.” His patience was wearing thin. Either they answered him this time or he would force them to answer him.
"Out. Now. Our boss is no business of yours."
He was alive then. It seemed the hunters didn't know everything. Or maybe they did. A vampire with offspring in their ranks could prove trouble to them. Other hunter organisations could discover what Section Seven were up to. Oneiric might want to claim the children back for his species. They had vampire blood after all. He had as much right to them as the humans did.
The fair-haired man stepped forwards. Lincoln anticipated his move and roared at him, stopping him before he could attack.
"Do you know who you are speaking to?” He sneered at them both.
They looked at each other and then back at him.
"Does your master teach you no respect for those above you?"
The penny dropped. It showed on their faces and in the way they backed off a step.
"Are you a guard?"
He laughed at the ridiculous question and stood straight, glaring at them with red eyes.
"A guard? You dare to insult me!” He stepped forwards, his grin revealing sharp teeth. They backed away, keeping time with him. “I should have your heads in payment for your insolence!"
Fear washed over them.
"You must excuse these children, Chosen Son.” A deep male voice echoed through the dark recesses of the club. The two men in front of him dropped to their knees, looking up at him with dread. “They have never met one so strong and ignore my requests to better themselves by learning our bloody history."
"They should be taught with an iron fist then,” Lincoln said, his eyes following the newcomer as he approached from the shadows. He was tall and well built, although not as muscular as his two thugs. Long tendrils of black hair clung to his forehead and cheeks. Dark eyes penetrated his. Here was one not frightened of those stronger than him. “I would suggest you send them home to be taught humility and pride, to be trained to be worthy of our bloodline."
"To send them home would be to sentence them to death,” the man said with a sly smile. “It is tempting. Mikael seems busy though. I hear he has lost something precious to him."
Lincoln held his ground as the man reached him. The two thugs hadn't intimidated him, and although this newcomer had more power and was far older than them, he wasn't going to be frightened by him either.
"Perhaps you could teach them in his stead?"
"I have no time for weaklings,” Lincoln said and glared at the two men in question. “It is the duty of their sire to teach them."
"I have no desire to follow my bloodline's violent nature now. I have grown weary of it. Let children play. In time they will learn the lessons that will bring them into line."
"Treacherous words.” Lincoln frowned at him. This man didn't believe his own speech. He had clearly tried to teach order to his children and had failed. He had grown weak.
He would teach them for him. It was the least he could do to earn his trust.
Grabbing the dark-haired one by the throat, he hurled him against the wall to his far left. He caught the fair-haired one by his jaw and forced him to stand. His claws dug into his flesh until they hit bone.
"You are nothing more than a weakling if you take no pride in your bloodline. I should kill you for your disrespect to me and our species. I should see to it that pathetic fools like you, who only wish for brute strength and violence, should never be allowed to enter our world.” He tightened his grip and sneered, exposing fangs. “To be of pure blood is to be royalty, even when you are no more than a servant to the higher ranks. You must be trained, and must learn the history of our bloodline and others. You must refine your ill manners until you are fit to say you are of our blood. If you do not believe you can do this, if you are intent on being nothing more than a weak and insolent child interested only in using your heritage to abuse others and intimidate them, then tell me it is so and I will erase such a black mark from my family."
The man swallowed, fear turning his eyes wild as he shook his head.
Lincoln lifted him off the floor by his neck.
"Answer me, child!"
"I'm sorry, sir. I will learn the things my sire asks me to. I will become worthy of our bloodline."
Lincoln dropped him and wiped his bloodied hand on his jeans. A stab of pain in his side reminded him that he wasn't strong enough to be hauling men twice his weight off the floor. He resisted the desire to press a hand to the wound. He would show no weakness in front of this man.
"You,” he said with a nod to the sire of the two wretched men. “We must speak."
"Speak?” the man said with a raised eyebrow. “And what must we speak of?"
He didn't want to talk to him. Maybe he could change that before things became tedious. He didn't have time to teach this one a lesson too. Even if he had been outcast from his family, he was still the Chosen Son and still deserved the respect given to his rank.
"I need help in a delicate matter."
"Go on.” The man stepped forwards into the light. Although he had survived whatever had killed him according to the hunters, it hadn't been without a price. He held the man's gaze. Scars didn't bother him. In time, this man would heal fully, even if it took decades.
"Your daughter is very like you,” he said.
Darkness crossed the man's face.
Lincoln held his gaze.
"Oneiric."
The man hesitated for a moment and then looked at the two other men. They were staring at them, too interested for both his and Oneiric's liking. Oneiric turned and walked towards the back of the room, into the shadows.
"Come with me,” he said.
Lincoln followed him towards the stage and then through a small door to the left. It led into a low-lit corridor with cream painted breezeblock walls. Oneiric opened a dirty off-white door and held it for him. He motioned for Oneiric to go first. While he was sure that this was the vampire he was looking for, he wasn't ready to trust him with his back. As a wanted man, he had learned to trust caution over everything else.
Oneiric sat down on a tattered chair behind a desk stacked with paperwork. The life of a club owner didn't seem as glamorous as Lincoln had imagined. Behind the scenes, it was a grotty place with little comfort and luxury. Lilith's apartment was nicer than this hole. Being here made him long painfully for his own apartment back at the Vehemens’ mansion in Oslo, with its expansive bed, antique furniture and lavish fabrics.
"Repeat what you said out there,” Oneiric said, eyeing him closely. Lincoln could understand his wariness. A vampire couldn't father children. Oneiric probably thought he was insane.
He crossed the room to the desk and offered his bare wrist.
"I am speaking the truth. You have a daughter, two in fact. I only know the one. She is wilful, strong, and detests our kind. They were both raised as hunters, following in the footsteps of their mother. The second daughter has been turned. Lilith believes her dead."
"Lilith?” Oneiric looked up at him, confusion and astonishment reigning in his eyes.
"Lilith and Eve."
"Eve...” Oneiric whispered, incredible hurt audible in that word. “They were Eve's?"
Lincoln knew that look, that soul-searching stare and heart-wrenching tone. Oneiric had loved the hunter that had bore his children.
He offered his wrist again. “I give it freely, so that you may believe me."
Oneiric glanced at it and then reached across the table, standing at the same time. Lincoln didn't flinch as sharp teeth penetrated his wrist. He kept still, letting Oneiric see the memories his blood held so he would know that he wasn't lying. Lilith and Eve existed.
"You speak the truth,” Oneiric muttered, releasing his wrist. He looked up at him. “They are really mine."
He nodded.
Oneiric's look darkened. “You come here to tell me this, to offer your blood as witness, and in it I see not only that I have a daughter, but that you have claimed her."
He couldn't deny it. Blood never lied. He probably should have attempted to withhold that memory though and explained the situation to Oneiric rather than letting him see it without context.
"I did not realise that she carried vampire genes. I have no excuse though. While I was not fully aware of what I was doing, I did speak those words to her and she did respond."
"And there is a bond between you?” Oneiric sat again and regarded him with cold eyes.
"I am not certain. I have not been able to successfully test it and I do not intend to."
"You intend to break the claim?"
The very thought turned his stomach and he shook his head against the idea. “No. I cannot do that ... not to myself and not to Lilith."
"But she does not know."
Another shake of his head.
"Do you intend to tell her?"
He looked at Oneiric, seeing in his eyes the concern of a father and a brother too. Oneiric knew what it was to love a human. Would Oneiric have claimed Eve if he'd been able to? Instinct had forced those words from his lips, regardless of the fact that he'd thought Lilith human and unable to form a bond with him. He'd wanted her as his own, his mate.
He still wanted her.
If he told her, there was a chance she would never forgive him, that she would ask for the claim to be broken while it still could be.
If he told her, everything would be over.
Lilith took long slow breaths, enjoying the quiet of the graveyard. She'd escaped the infirmary late this afternoon and had gone straight to her apartment to shower and change her clothes. Daniel had tried to stop her from leaving the mansion. She'd ignored him. She needed space and freedom, a chance to stand in silence in the darkness and gather herself and her thoughts.
She walked the path, letting it lead her feet so she could empty her mind of everything that had cluttered it this past week. So much had happened and she'd started to feel as though she was going out of her mind. The demons and vampires attacking, the pact that Lincoln was involved in and Lincoln himself, all conspired to give her a headache and leave her feeling less than normal.
Right now, she needed a sense of normal.
Patrolling in such familiar surroundings was helping.
She only wished she wasn't alone.
It wasn't Lincoln that she longed for. At least that's what she'd told herself a million times over tonight. Since he'd left last night, she'd felt very odd and exposed, as though she wasn't safe without him nearby. That feeling had stayed with her throughout the day, and although she'd fought to overcome it, it still lingered at the back of her mind and in the corners of her heart.
Stockholm Syndrome. That's what it was. Only it was a strange form. He was her shadow and she was free but not free. She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
Moving no longer hurt and she had full use of her arms again. The speed of her healing had surprised the nurses, and although Lincoln hadn't told Daniel that he'd cleaned her wounds and sealed them, she got the impression he knew. Daniel had been very cautious around her, treading on eggshells.
Lincoln had been the same. It was for a different reason though, one she couldn't quite figure out.
Her eyes scanned the grey heavens. There would be no stars tonight. It looked as though it could rain if it put its mind to it. The air carried a chill that was refreshing as it washed her face.
She wondered where Lincoln had gone.
She wondered why she was thinking about him so much.
Her heart said that she was worried about him. He'd gone out and promised to return to her tonight. Darkness had long fallen and there was no sign of him. She hoped he wasn't hurt.
As loath as she was to admit it, she really was worried.
Her gaze fell to the grave in front of her.
"Why didn't he let me go with him?” she whispered to it, as though the person buried below her feet could respond. “Why do I even care?"
She sighed again and wished she could turn off her thoughts or at least somehow filter them so Lincoln stopped coming up.
Jackson's name stared up at her from the stark white marble.
"I blame him for your death, you know? Of course you know. You'd probably tell me I'm ridiculous, but he was the reason that vampire was here.” She bent over to touch the grass. It was damp. She decided to stand instead.
She missed him.
"I'm sorry I couldn't save you,” she whispered and tears filled her eyes. She brushed them away, not wanting to look weak in front of him. “I should've tried harder."
Staring at his name, her thoughts turned to her sister. She hadn't been able to save her either. When Eve had announced that she was going with Adam to Paris, she should have stopped her. None of this would have happened then. She was sure of it. Things had been falling apart ever since her sister had died.
She wandered through the cemetery until she reached her sister's grave. The black granite was speckled with water stains and leaves from the tree above covered the grass. In spring, it was abundant with cherry blossoms. Her sister had always loved this tree when they were alive and had always planned their patrols so they would pass it. Now an empty box lay below it. They'd never found her body.
Or Adam's.
"Lilith?"
She turned on hearing the male voice and smiled through her disappointment when she saw who it was.
"Mark,” she said with false cheeriness and hugged him. His arms wrapped like steel bands around her, squeezing her too hard for her injuries. She made a muffled noise of pain and he released her, holding her at arm's length.
"Jesus, what happened to you?” His fingers brushed the bandages visible in the gap of her dark blue shirt.
She took hold of his hand and brought it away, unnerved by his touch. “It was nothing."
He looked as though he was going to say something for a moment and then smiled.
"I came as soon as I could.” He ran a hand over his blond spiked hair and his smile became a sigh. “Things are hectic in London."
"Aren't they always?” she said, her tone distant. Her gaze fell back to her sister's grave.
She remembered the last time that Mark had come to see her. They'd argued and he'd left without saying goodbye. Her heart had thought he'd never come back, that this time he'd turned his back on her for good. The very next day he'd called her. They'd never apologised to each other. They were always fighting. It was so hard now that he was always in London leading his squad.
He'd tried to convince her to join the ranks there, where she belonged according to him. She had no desire to go there. She liked it here, where she could find solitude when she needed it, but not tonight it seemed.
She'd wanted peace and for a moment she'd found it. Now she felt crowded. Mark put his arm around her. It stifled her rather than comforted, making her want to jerk her shoulder backwards to dislodge him. She didn't. He was her boyfriend after all. He had a right to touch her and expect to be close to her.
"I can only stay a night. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” His fingers flexed against her.
She swallowed her rising anger and kept her eyes fixed on her sister's name.
"How are you holding up?” he said close to her ear. The feel of his breath on her face sent a shudder through her.
The darkness inside her rose. It took shape in her mind, long black tendrils creeping towards her heart, swallowing all her feelings. She let it grow, feeding it and listening to the whispered words it spoke to her—promises of release through violence, through surrender to her anger.
Her senses sparked and she turned on a pinpoint, ducking under Mark's arm. Her hand went against his chest, shoving him backwards, away from her.
"Keep down,” she said and was moving before he could speak.
The vampire appeared a moment later, slinking out of the shadows. Golden eyes met hers. It was from the weakling bloodline, the one that both hunters and pure bloods despised. A flicker of surprise danced across its face. Was it shocked that its attempt to sneak up on her had failed? She'd never lose to one of its kind.
Her blood called for violence.
Violence it would have.
Lincoln had proven an impossible target. A weakling would be easier to coerce into fighting and to kill. She needed to kill.
Mark's words were lost on her. She blocked him out and attacked before the vampire had even made it within striking distance. The world faded into darkness, the pale lightning outlining her surroundings and the vampire. It shone brightly, a target that she wouldn't miss.
Her hand was in her back pocket, grasping her stake before a heartbeat had passed. She evaded the male weakling's first lunge and came around behind it. Her heart urged it to fight well, to prove a worthy adversary and not die too quickly. She needed this fight more than anything. She lost command of herself. The lust for bloodshed took control of her actions.
A back flip, a side step, and she'd plunged the stake into the vampire's shoulder. It roared and elbowed her in the face, splitting her lip. She touched the cut with her tongue, relishing the metallic tang of blood and the way it made her senses sharper. The vampire sped to a short distance away. She was hot on its heels, never letting it get beyond her reach.
Mark called to her again, a distant sound that barely registered through the haze in her mind.
The world faded from black to deepest red, as though coated by a film of blood.
She growled with effort when the vampire made its attack, a quick succession of punches that had her on the back foot. She dodged each one until she found her footing and the moment she'd been waiting for. Her stake grazed the vampire's side and then stabbed in as she passed it. It tried to grab her but she caught its arm, pulling it towards her and sneering at it.
Her hand came down, swift and accurate, ramming the stake into its chest barely inches from its heart.
Its knee slammed into her stomach and she doubled over, clutching it and fighting for breath. The second she recovered, she attacked again, not even flinching when the vampire's fist connected solidly with her jaw. Her stake found its target again and she drove forwards, taking the vampire to the ground with her.
The red haze over the world brightened, drenching everything in blood. She stared into the vampire's eyes, punching it repeatedly, hitting it with everything she had. The mist lifted as tears streaked her cheeks. She didn't stop. She couldn't. She was so lost in the violence, in seeing every vampire she'd ever killed, every one she'd ever fought.
Mark's hand on her shoulder startled her.
"Stop!"
She did. She stopped and looked down at the bloody mess she'd made of the vampire's face. What had she done?
Standing sharply, she left her stake protruding from the dead vampire's chest and turned away from it, not wanting to see it anymore and wishing it were gone already.
Mark grabbed her arm.
She yanked it free and turned on him.
There was anger in his eyes.
"Don't start! Not today.” She couldn't bring herself to look at him either.
Her eyes slid to the decomposing vampire. What was wrong with her? Disgust filled her. She'd taken pleasure in killing it, in butchering it. An intense feeling of dirtiness joined the disgust. Her hands shook as she held herself.
"Speak to me,” Mark said in a coaxing gentle voice. “Stop closing yourself off from me and shutting me out."
"I'm not.” She lied on reflex, knowing that what he'd said was true. She really didn't need this argument again right now. She turned on him again, her anger returning. “How would you know? You're never around!"
"Never around? Maybe I'd be around a little more if you stopped being such a cold bitch when I was."
Her mouth fell open. “So this is my fault? Admit it, Mark, you'd rather be in London with the damp squibs than out here in the sticks with me."
He glared at her.
He didn't deny it though.
"I knew it,” she muttered under her breath.
He tried to take hold of her hand again and she pushed him away. The hurt in his eyes made her regret her actions, but only for a moment.
"Fine ... live in your own world. One pure blood and you've gone to pieces! Lil, come on, you've got to talk about it ... you can't keep it inside."
"I'm not!” She picked her stake up off the grass and wiped it on her jeans. Her hands were still shaking. She had to get control.
"You are ... you saw what you did to that vampire. What's next?” He stepped closer to her, a worried look settling on his face. “Speak to the doc."
"I'm not crazy.” She pushed him again, needing to keep him away from her so she didn't prove him right by going insane and staking him. “Leave me alone!"
Her eyes shot wide when a black blur passed her, a breeze following in its wake, and Lincoln suddenly appeared. He'd bashed Mark's head against a gravestone before she had a chance to stop him. Mark slipped unconscious to the floor.
"Christ, you've probably killed him!” She knelt beside Mark, checking his vitals and the deep cut on the right side of his forehead. He was alive. A hint of relief filled her and then faded again. She glared up at Lincoln. “What the hell were you doing?"
He towered over her, smug and smiling. He'd thought he'd been saving her.
She kicked him in the leg and he frowned.
"Mark is my boyfriend!"
Blackness filled his eyes.
"I did not kill him,” he said, seeming oddly proud of that.
"What, do you want a medal?” She stood and stepped up to him. “You're insane."
"He looked as though he was going to hurt you."
She thought about what he would've seen and realised that it might have looked that way. She'd been shouting at Mark to leave her alone, had repeatedly flung his arm away from her. For a moment, her anger faltered. It came back the second she remembered that Lincoln had made her worry by not returning earlier.
A murmur rose from below her and she looked down to see Mark stirring. He pressed a hand to his head and grimaced.
"You okay?” she said and his head tilted back, his eyes meeting hers. He looked dazed and a trail of blood ran down from his forehead to his jaw. “Mark?"
His eyes slid to Lincoln and then back to her. She could feel Lincoln watching her.
"He's a vampire,” Mark said and rose slowly to his feet.
She stopped herself from asking him if he wanted a medal too for being so observant. A man who could have your head bouncing off a slab of solid rock before you'd even noticed was hardly going to be human.
"He's my client.” She shrugged, hoping it would calm his anger and make her appear as though she didn't care about Lincoln.
Mark's eyes narrowed on her. “Is your client in the habit of defending you?"
She rolled her eyes. “You're being ridiculous."
"I don't think I am, Lil,” he said with another swift look at Lincoln. Damn the stupid vampire for standing so close and staring at her. “I see what's happening now."
He dusted himself off and gingerly touched the cut on his head again before looking at her.
"It's over,” he said.
Before she could form a response, he was halfway to the cemetery gate. It was over. Surely she should be feeling something, anything. There was nothing. She stared at him, following his progress through the graves. Her heart said she should be upset. For some reason, she couldn't muster the tears or the emotions. Was she as cold and heartless as he'd said she was? She didn't want to be, but chasing him seemed pointless. He seemed pointless.
She looked at Lincoln.
"Perfect ... thank you. You get my friend killed, get me dumped, what's next?"
He frowned at her, silent.
She didn't even have the energy to blame him.
"It was over anyway.” She leaned against a tomb, expecting him to leave.
He didn't.
"I cannot say that I am sorry,” he said, his eyes drifting upwards to the sky. There weren't any stars tonight so what was he looking at? Was he just trying to avoid her gaze? “You can do better."
Her chest tightened. She walked back to her sister's grave, ignoring his comment and the thoughts it put into her head.
"You kill people,” she whispered to the night.
He laughed melodically, hauntingly and stood beside her. “So do you."
"You're not human,” she countered.
"You did not say human."
"You're not a person either.” The anger in her voice wasn't because of him. It was because of herself. It was what she'd done tonight. She'd butchered that vampire. Even after it had died, she'd continued to hit it, to beat it to a bloody pulp.
She'd lost Mark because of it. He'd seen that violence inside her and the lust she had for it, and he'd left her.
Something was wrong with her.
She'd hated vampires her whole life. Now she was attracted to one.
She'd always been in control, never straying into the darkness. Now she willingly surrendered to that darkness and the night's whispers.
It frightened her. She held herself, thinking about what Lincoln had said to her that night he'd described what it felt like to hunt. She had those feelings. She was a monster like him.
No. She wasn't a monster. She was just confused and angry. Those feelings pushed her over the edge, not anything else. She was a hunter, one of the elite. She took pride in her skill and strength. Tonight was just a glitch. This whole time with Lincoln had been nothing more than a glitch.
Her eyes settled on him.
"You're not a person. You're a soulless, evil, spawn of the Devil!"
He held her gaze for a split second, fire in his eyes, before he turned and walked away.
"Neither are you. I will never understand why you protect a species you are not even a part of!"
His words hung in the air, immobilising her with fear.
He glanced over his shoulder at her, a smile twisting his mouth that matched the cruelty in his gaze. “We are not so different, you and I."
It shook her to the core, leaving her staring at his retreating back.
What did he mean?
Her blood turned to ice.
Wasn't she human?
The cold drove Lilith to return home. The walk was slow, her footsteps hindered by her heavy thoughts. Lincoln's words ran around her head, taunting her and giving her no peace. She couldn't shift them and couldn't think of anything else. He had meant to spite her with them and she had seen the truth in his eyes when he'd spoken. It had been no lie to hurt her. He had told the truth to hurt her, to punish her for what she'd said about him.
She saw nothing as she walked through the mansion to her apartment, heard nothing as she passed hunter after hunter. She saw only Lincoln's dark smile and heard only his harsh words.
They weren't so different.
Had he meant that she was a vampire? It wasn't possible. She was human. She had a heartbeat, hungered for food, and was revolted by blood.
A tiny part of her whispered that the night called to her and that she felt that call in her blood. She had a gift. That gift had to come from somewhere. There had to be a reason she could stand on the boundary between darkness and light, and could sharpen her senses until she could see without her eyes.
Her hand felt heavy as she lifted it and took hold of the handle of her door. She pressed it down and opened it, fearing what she'd find on the other side. It swung open. Nothing but darkness greeted her. Lincoln wasn't here.
Stepping inside, she closed the door and walked straight to her bedroom without turning the lights on. She sat on the edge of her bed and stared into the blackness. Her mind emptied until she wasn't feeling or thinking. She was just sitting, a hollow shell, lifeless.
She didn't know how long she sat there. Eventually a light appeared in the darkness and then a silhouette stood in her bedroom doorway.
Lincoln.
That name brought no feeling with it and no comfort. It brought only questions that crowded her mind until her head felt as though it would split open.
He turned the bedside lamp on and sat next to her on the bed, close, always close. Her gaze fell to his knees, to his thigh that lightly brushed hers sending a tingling shiver through her.
She said nothing.
She didn't need to.
Instinct told her that he would be the one to break the silence and would tell her everything she needed to know. He would explain what he'd meant and why he'd said it.
Her eyes moved to his hands where they rested in his lap. There was a mark on his wrist as though he'd been bitten. She made a note of it and let her gaze continue its journey upwards, over his toned arms to his black t-shirt and finally his face. He looked distant, concerned, his eyes fixed on the floor. Did he regret the things he'd said?
He blinked and when his eyes opened again, they locked with hers. They spoke his feelings to her, the confusion and the anxiety, the fear and the hope. They reflected every emotion she was feeling.
"I met your father,” he said in a broken whisper laced with caution. His eyes searched hers, looking for a reaction to those words.
A frown flickered on her brow. She quickly regained her composure.
She didn't rush him. This was as hard for him as it was for her, only she couldn't understand why—she could only feel it in him. She held his gaze. There was a connection between them that she'd always feared—a link between her and vampires. It had always been at the back of her mind, lurking and ready to make itself known whenever she used her gift. That gift had to come from somewhere and it was too similar to a vampire's abilities to ignore that possibility.
His hand shifted, fingers flexed, opening and closing. Restraint filled his eyes, a fight for control over himself, a conflict of feeling. She could see it all. She'd never seen so much emotion in someone before. Why was he so conflicted? Was it because of her? Was he fighting feelings he didn't understand too? She hated herself for the way she felt about him, the growing attachment and the need. No doubt a vampire would hate any such connection towards a human too.
"He is a great man ... or should I say ... vampire,” he whispered the last word so quietly that she barely heard him.
Her reaction to it was a chill that froze her heart and made her whole body tense.
His fingers flexed again and he placed his hands palm down on his legs.
He wanted to touch her.
He wanted to hold her hand as he had that night she'd been dying and comfort her.
She wanted it too.
"I met him at his club, ‘One'. It is near here. That is where I went. I told him about you and your sister. He did not know."
"How did you know?” Her voice returned, weak and trembling. She pushed away from her fear and the voice inside telling her to bury her head and shut out his words to protect herself. She had a chance to find the answers to the questions that had plagued her throughout her whole life. She had to know them, even if they caused her pain.
He hesitated and then said, “The night you were taken to the infirmary after you were hurt, I broke into your superior's office and looked you up on his computer. I knew something was not right. Your blood is different to a human's."
Lincoln studied her reaction. She didn't say anything. She didn't need to. The struggle was there in her eyes. He wondered if he should stop now. He didn't want to upset her and he could sense the riot of feelings inside her.
His hand edged closer to her leg. His heart begged him to hold her and tell her that this didn't make her a monster as she believed it did.
"My father was a vampire?"
He could hear the pain in her voice as well as feel it in her heart. Everything in him screamed to comfort her. He refused. He couldn't cross that line. He wouldn't. What he'd done that night was a mistake, something she would never want and he would never be able to live with.
He nodded. “A Vehemens. Oneiric."
"Oneiric.” She looked as though she was trying hard to understand. He was a monster. He never should have told her. No, she deserved to know. He only wished he hadn't been the one to smash her whole fragile world to pieces. “And my mother?"
Hope sparked in her voice now. He smiled and reached out a little with his senses to test the connection between them. She wouldn't know it was there, but if he were close then it would make her feel comforted nonetheless.
"A hunter, like yourself,” he said.
"But vampires can't have children."
He was unsure whether to proceed now. To tell her this would only hurt her more and he didn't want that. Her eyes said she wanted to know. She needed to know. He had to tell her, regardless of the pain it would cause as he issued the final blow to her world.
"They cannot.” He moved closer to her, silently supporting her. Realisation began to dawn in her eyes. They filled with tears. He felt the horror in her, the fear, and the despair. He felt it all and wished he could take it away from her. He couldn't. All he could do was be honest with her when others had lied and deceived. “Blood was taken from him and your mother requested that it be used to genetically alter an egg after conception. They used his DNA. The report stated that the two children, yourself and your sister Eve, were human, but they must have missed something."
"Because I'm not.” There was bitterness in her voice. His heart heard different. It heard the hurt inside her.
"A part of you is,” he whispered.
"And the rest is like you.” Her anger rose again. Despair quickly defeated it. “The part that my gift comes from, it's vampire, all vampire."
"Having your father's blood does not make you evil or a monster. I have seen the alterations they make to hunters here, the so-called ‘enhancements'. You are more human than them."
She looked at him, right into his eyes, her dark browns silently begging him to make it all go away so she could pretend none of it was true.
Her eyes fell to his arm and she leaned forwards, resting her head against his shoulder.
"They never told me,” she said solemnly.
He didn't know what to do or what she wanted him to do. He sat in silence for a moment and then took his arm out from between them and placed it around her shoulders, holding her to him. Her forehead came to rest against his neck. He risked a light kiss to her hair.
"I did not know either. I truly did not."
She nodded and moved closer to him. “I know."
He held her, his heart rejoicing at the feel of her in his arms while whispered words dripped poison in his mind. This wasn't meant to be. He couldn't love a human. He couldn't break the law for her and turn his back on his family forever. He wasn't as strong as Oneiric. He shut those words out and focused on her.
She was tired, confused and hurting. He'd chosen a terrible time to tell her, to force her to deal with this on top of everything else. He was a monster.
"You've had a hard night,” he said and stood, ignoring the despair inside him that told him to go back to her and never let her go.
"Lincoln,” she whispered.
He looked at her. She stared up at him, her face rosy and streaked with tears, soft in the warm lamp light.
"Stay a little longer?” There was so much hope and fear in her voice, in her heart.
Turning the lamp off, he sat beside her and placed his arm around her. He didn't say anything because he still wasn't sure what was happening himself. He shared her confusion and her conflict. Neither of them had expected this or wanted it. It troubled them both.
Closing his eyes, he pressed a kiss to her temple and listened to the steady beat of her heart and her slow breathing. His lips traced a path down to her cheek, jaw and then her neck.
Her pulse played against his lips, quicker now, speaking words of temptation to him. He didn't act on them or the desire that told him to have a taste again. She was his to command.
Traitorous words.
With such a heavy burden on his shoulders and a sharp sword hanging above his head, he couldn't be with her. It wasn't just the law now. His heart had started to overrule his mind on that excuse.
He had brought her into this, into his world, and had shattered hers in the process, destroying everything she knew just so he could see if what the witches had told him came true.
She would save him.
What price would that cost though? She had already paid so dearly for his selfishness.
He kissed the point on her neck just below her jaw where her pulse beat hardest.
He was both surprised and pleased when she leaned into his kisses and he could sense them soothing her. She did want him. There was no denying that. What fate did a relationship between them have though? Any attempt at one was futile. He saw only pain ahead, only suffering for both of them. She would grow to hate him in time, and to eventually hate herself. He would destroy her.
There was no other choice open to him.
He had to do this, regardless of the pain it would cause him or the destiny that awaited him.
"I meant what I said,” he whispered into her ear and took hold of her hand. “He was not worthy of you."
He stood and his heart ached as he looked into her eyes in the low light coming from the living room.
"But I am not worthy either."
His fingers slipped free of hers and he turned, closing his eyes against the pain as he walked away.
This was his only choice.
Lincoln shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. The wind played against him as he walked, washing over his skin and chilling his flesh. The trees swayed in it, making a soft melody that soothed him. He stared at the floor, barely able to see it in the pitch-black park, his thoughts miles away with Lilith. Since leaving her, he'd told himself countless times that this was the right decision. It hadn't stopped his heart from aching. It was futile. She could never truly love him, no matter how much he wanted her to.
He stopped when he reached the black wrought iron gates of the park. A quick scan of the street revealed that it was quiet. The tall Georgian townhouse opposite was imposing, threatening. To a mortal it would look nothing more than another London townhouse in a row of matching ones. To a vampire, it would speak of violence and of strength, of the power of his bloodline.
He didn't hesitate. Now was a time for decisive action. He needed to know what fate had in store for him so he could attempt to evade it, to change his future and survive this pact with the Devil.
The darkness enshrouded him as he stepped back into the park, disappearing from view. He walked a few feet into the bushes and trees, and stared at the house.
It was now or never.
Fear had driven him away, forcing him to run and seek help. Now determination drove him forwards, to meet his destiny and survive it.
Closing his eyes, he breathed out slowly. The world shrank around him, closing in, and the slow burn began in the depths of his heart. He held his arms out, calling to his strength, his power, and focusing it on his hands. They tingled, his fingers aflame and turning his blood to fire as the rest of his body grew cold as ice. He brought his hands towards each other until they met in front of him. The tingling fire transferred to his marked hand, tracing the scar there. The burn in his chest became an inferno of pain. A sneer twisted his lips and he called on all his remaining strength to force his hand towards his chest.
Pain became something shallow and empty when his fingers touched the point over his heart. It was reinvented as the intense threads of excruciating fire joined together in an attempt to bind his soul to his body. He pushed on, through the agony and the dark flames, his fingers entering his chest, moving through flesh and bone but never breaking either. They touched the tangled threads and broke through to seize hold of his spirit.
He roared and pulled.
The world became a pale shimmer and then nothing.
Lincoln looked down at his body where it lay on the leaf litter in the darkness.
He raised his hand. It looked as tangible and solid as his body did. Funny how it could do that. The nausea caused by the pain of pulling his spirit free of its physical cage dissipated faster this time. He was growing used to it now. Turning, he walked straight through the iron railings and the parked car on the other side. He went through the front door of his family's safe house and stopped just inside. Two female vampires were walking towards him. Instinct told him to hide. He ignored it. It always took a few minutes to get used to the fact that no one could see him.
The women passed and he decided to follow them when he caught a snippet of their conversation. They were talking about Mikael, the lord of his bloodline, and Verona, the Chosen Daughter. Their adulation of Mikael was sickening. They wouldn't swoon over him if they knew him as he did. Mikael thought only of himself. He always had done.
Lincoln was about to break away from the women when they mentioned something that made him freeze.
They were here.
Mikael and Verona were here.
He turned on a pinpoint, fear gripping him, and scanned his surroundings. Where were they? If he had his body, he would be able to sense them. In this state, he couldn't do anything but move around. He couldn't even touch anything.
A sly smile touched his lips.
If Mikael were here, then so was the contract. His sire never let it out of his reach.
He had to find it. If he could get a look at it, he could tell Lilith what it said and they could find a way to stop anything from happening to him.
He realised what he'd thought. Lilith wasn't a part of this anymore. He couldn't get her involved again. She was safer without him. If he could see the contract, then maybe he could find a way to save himself.
Pain, hot and fierce, burned through his shoulder.
He clutched it and squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth against the tremendous stabbing sensation. A strangled scream escaped him when something punctured his other shoulder and his arms were forced apart.
No.
Someone had him.
Claws penetrated the back of his shoulders, pressing into his bones.
An intense pull to return to his body filled him. He fought it, knowing what awaited him there. It was too strong. The more he tried to push away the more powerful the sensation became. The sharp invisible claws in his shoulders drove deeper into his flesh. The pain was too much. It forced consciousness into his body and dragged his spirit back.
He opened his eyes and stared into Mikael's.
Lilith ached inside. It was probably hunger. She'd not left her room for over a day now. Her world was crashing down around her and all she wanted to do was curl up on the bed, hold her knees to her chest, and wait for it all to come thundering to the ground. Mark had left her. Daniel had lied to her. Lincoln had turned his back on her.
Everything she'd known, everyone she'd loved, was gone.
There was nothing in this world for her. Nothing.
She turned her head to one side and stared through the bedroom doorway at the kitchen beyond. It was dark again. She could feel it now, like a sixth sense. She'd felt the sunrise this morning. Shortly after that, she'd realised that Lincoln wasn't coming back.
His words last night hadn't been a simple statement that he didn't think himself good enough for her or that she wouldn't want him.
He had meant them as goodbye.
For some reason that made her want to cry.
She closed her eyes to stop the tears from falling and frowned.
What did she do now? She couldn't go to Daniel and tell him that Lincoln was gone and the case was closed. The realisation of his deception had shaken her faith in him and broken her trust. She didn't think she could even face him. If she saw him, she was likely to hit him.
He'd lied to her. All those times that she'd spoken to him about her gift and about her fears, he'd told her that there was nothing wrong with her. He'd said that she was just a hunter like everyone else. She'd always known that she wasn't the same as them. None of them were anything like her or her sister. Not even the enhanced ones.
Now she knew where their abilities had come from. She'd often wondered how the research and development department had been able to modify DNA to give people skills similar to a vampire. Now she knew the terrible truth of it. The experiment that had altered herself and Eve had paved the way to enhancing other hunters.
She was a freak.
She wished Lincoln were here. She needed someone to speak to and for some reason she found it easy to talk to him. He understood her more than anyone. It didn't even bother her anymore that he was a vampire. Somewhere along the line, her feelings towards him had altered dramatically. She wanted to see him now, enjoyed his presence and speaking to him. She could even admit that he was attractive and that there was nothing wrong with her attachment to him. Her stomach cramped and she winced, screwing her face up against the pain. Where had he gone? She didn't want to leave her apartment in case he came back.
Getting to her feet, she padded across her room and through the open door. She went to the refrigerator and opened it. There was a pack of blood on the top shelf and not much else.
Lincoln.
"Where have you gone?” she whispered at the blood.
So much had happened that her brain was reeling, still trying to catch up. She looked at her watch to see that it was getting late. She had to find him. He was in danger without her. So many people were after him and they still didn't know why. What was so important about him?
Her eyes drifted to the books on the coffee table.
"Spiritus Diabolus.” Those words brought back that horrifying image of the Devil and his puppet. She couldn't let that happen to Lincoln.
She had to find him.
Her stomach cramped again.
Holding it, she waited for it to pass but it didn't. The pain grew more intense, heating her through until she was on fire inside. Her blood burned and her bones throbbed deep in their core. Pain shattered her skull. Lincoln's name pounded in her head.
He was in danger.
She had to go to him.
Running out of the door, she didn't even think about what she was doing. There was no time to think. Lincoln was in danger and she had to help him. The pull inside her was so intense, so painful. Her senses commanded her, instinct driving her forwards as one word filled her mind. Lincoln.
The garage attendant shouted at her as she sprinted past him. She ignored him. This was an emergency. She didn't care if she didn't have authority to drive the vehicles. The only thing that mattered was saving Lincoln.
Realising she didn't have any keys and that the attendant had them, she ran back to him. He gave her a look that said it was about time she listened to him. She punched him hard enough to knock him out, stole a set of keys, and pressed the button to open the garage door. She tapped the button on the key fob and ran to the black Ford whose lights had flashed. Getting in, she started the engine and then sped out through the open door and into the dawn beyond.
The wheels lost traction on the gravel drive. She didn't slow down. She couldn't slow down. The sense of urgency inside her was growing worse and the pain was so intense. It cramped her stomach, crippled her body and immobilised her. She held on to consciousness, knowing that if she passed out now, Lincoln would be doomed. She battled through, putting her foot down when she hit the open road.
Darkness grew in her. This time she willingly gave in to it. She could feel Lincoln clearer when she did and she wasn't frightened of it any more. The darkness was a part of her. Listening to it and letting it fill her wouldn't harm her. It wouldn't take her over. She controlled it, just as Lincoln and every other vampire controlled the darkness inside them and the call of the night.
Her senses sharpened and suddenly she could tell in which direction Lincoln was. Whenever she was heading towards him, the pain grew less intense, as though it was encouraging her to find him, luring her with a promise that it would stop once she was with him.
The sun was rising in front of her, burning the sky with bright oranges and lining the scattered strips of cloud with pink. The heavens above changed from purple to blue. The world sped past. All she could feel, all she could focus on, was Lincoln and her need to get to him.
London loomed ahead of her. The morning traffic's taillights illuminated the way, leading her there. She knew he was there in the city, somewhere. This blinding pain would end once she found him, once he was safe.
Her senses led her to the docks and the pain ebbed away until it was nothing more than a dull ache inside her.
Her eyes came to settle on the nearest warehouse.
He was in there.
He was hurt.
Something was speaking to her, telling her these things. Was this because of her blood too, or because of something else?
Parking the car, she went to the boot and opened it. It was filled with the standard equipment—crossbows, stakes, swords, as well as emergency medical equipment and blankets. She grabbed a thick dark grey blanket, the crossbow and the bolts for it. Titanium tipped with a shaft of holy wood. If any vampire other than Lincoln was in there, that would get their attention. Someone was going to pay for hurting him.
She closed the boot and looked at the warehouse. The paint was peeling away from the wood and the windows were filthy. It looked as though no one came to this area much. Everywhere around her was litter and debris from the old warehouses.
A voice inside her told her to stop wasting time and to go to Lincoln now. She didn't let herself follow it. She had to give herself the best chance of stopping the people who had him. He wasn't alone. Now that she had focused on her surroundings, she could sense power and it wasn't Lincoln's.
It was far stronger.
She loaded the crossbow and aimed for the windows high above the double door to the warehouse. A squeeze of her finger and the glass smashed. She reloaded and took out the next window. She had to give them a chance to escape and this was the only way she could think of. It was necessary to put Lincoln in danger of exposure to sunlight in order for her to save him.
Once the windows were gone, she tossed the blanket onto the passenger seat with the crossbow and got into the car. She stared at the doors, her senses focused on Lincoln. He wasn't in as much pain anymore but he wasn't moving either. She couldn't sense anyone close to him. They had to be sleeping. The daylight had given her the upper hand.
Pinpointing Lincoln, she slammed her foot onto the accelerator and drove as fast as she could towards the doors. They smashed as the car hit them, sending shards of wood exploding out in front of her. The car skidded to a halt barely ten feet from Lincoln. She yanked on the handbrake even as she was getting out of the car and grabbed the blanket as her foot hit the dusty floor of the warehouse. In a heartbeat, she was kneeling beside Lincoln where he was laying on the ground.
Now that she was close, she could feel how weak he was. He was barely with her. Heavy irons shackled his wrists and ankles, and chains attached him to two thick steel pins in the ground, holding his arms apart. There was so much blood. It stained the floor and covered his skin. Through the cuts in his clothing, she could see deep wounds, ragged and surrounded by black bruises.
He snarled at her. Fear tried to grip her heart. She pushed it away and continued, slowly reaching a hand out to him. He growled again. It didn't stop her. If she could just touch him then he would know that it was her and he would calm down. He would know that he was safe now. She was here.
Blood covered his face. A thin dark line dashed across his right eye and the delicate flesh there had swollen. Her fingers brushed his forehead and then his cheek. His growling subsided and she was surprised when a low purr rumbled through him. She could feel so much pain in him. It brought tears to her eyes to see him like this, to feel all the hurt and know that in some way this was her fault. He had left because of her. He had been vulnerable when she should have done her duty and protected him.
She went to the two pins and unclipped the chains, freeing him.
Placing the blanket over him, she manoeuvred him until she could get his arm around her shoulders. She carefully lifted him to his feet and helped him across to the car. Opening the back door, she jammed it with her knee to hold it there and laid Lincoln down on the back seat. He gave another growl. She continued to ignore it. It wasn't him speaking. He was so hurt that he couldn't be conscious of what was happening to him.
Her senses sparked. She grabbed the crossbow and bolts from the passenger seat, and the holy water capsules from the glove compartment, and closed the back door as she look around the expansive room. The feeling of power was growing. Whoever had done this to Lincoln was awake and they were coming.
A door down the far end burst open and she raised her crossbow. Two of them. One male and one female. They were both strong and old, although their slim appearance hid their strength. They both had dark hair and both looked no older than her or Lincoln. The female seemed the weaker of the two. She was weaker than Lincoln.
Lilith aimed at her, reloading the crossbow after each failed attempt. She smiled ruefully when she finally hit the woman in the shoulder, sending her hissing to the ground. The male vampire roared.
The power behind it frightened Lilith.
Instinct forced her to hold her ground and continue the fight. She had to protect Lincoln.
It was so hard to keep going.
She fired a bolt at the man. He swatted it away as though it was nothing more than a fly.
He was coming faster now.
His power was overwhelming.
"I will kill you for what you have done, mortal!” There was a maniacal look in his red eyes that told her to run while she still had the chance. He had done this to Lincoln. He had tortured him to the brink of death. His hiss revealed sharp canines that made her heart beat a little faster. His gaze penetrated hers, holding it.
She fired once more.
He was getting too close and he was too fast for her to see.
She grinned. Not too fast for her to sense though.
Her eyes slipped shut and the world became outlined in silver. She raised the bow, tracked the ghost of his coming movements with her senses, and fired the bolt. It thudded into his thigh.
He roared.
She looked at him, right into his eyes, seeing the malevolent glint there.
A crossbow wasn't going to stop this vampire. She had to get the hell out of there.
She didn't waste time. Hurling one of the holy water capsules towards him, she fired another bolt. It smashed the capsule, showering the man, burning him like acid. She was in the car before he could take another step, reversing at high speed out into the daylight. She couldn't believe that she'd stayed to fight when she should've left. What the hell had she been thinking? It had been a compulsion. She'd had to fight. She'd needed revenge for Lincoln.
Stopping outside where she was safe, she stared back at the man where he stood in the shadows watching her.
She sneered.
Her foot hit the accelerator and the car sped away, dust rising into the morning air. When she was clear of the warehouses and the docks, she tilted the rear-view mirror so she could see Lincoln. Being able to see him quelled the strange feelings inside of her—the panic and the fear.
She drove as fast as she could, determined to get out of London and get Lincoln somewhere safe. Home. Her apartment. It was the only place that she could think of. He would be safe there, even with the hunters surrounding him. She wouldn't let them hurt him. She wouldn't let them near him.
The miles passed in a blur of worry and pain. She could feel Lincoln stirring, heard the chains rattling as he moved. She stopped the car on a small country road. A thick wood on either side shaded it. It was quiet here. No one would disturb them.
Stepping out of the car, she walked to the rear passenger side door and opened it. She carefully lifted Lincoln's head onto her lap as she slid in, ignoring his growls. Her fingers brushed his brow, soothing him. A frown marred her features when she saw the mark on his neck. It was an intricate glyph, scored into his flesh. She pushed the blanket off him. There were more on his arm, all different. She lifted the hem of his tattered black t-shirt. Her stomach turned at the ones there, carved deep into his flesh. What had they done to him?
She touched them. He was in so much pain. She knew what she had to do but she couldn't quite believe that she was going to do it. Rolling her shirtsleeve up, she looked at her arm. It had to be somewhere not obvious. No one must see.
Cradling Lincoln's head, she placed her forearm against his mouth. He didn't respond. Her insides ached, pleading him to take her blood to make himself strong again. He was so weak. He'd never heal if he didn't feed. She realised that he was too weak to bite her. She had to entice him, help him.
The idea of cutting herself made her stomach turn and repulsed her. He needed her blood though. She reached forwards over the seat in front of her and grabbed one of the crossbow bolts. Using the tip, she made a small incision in her forearm. For a moment, it looked as though it wasn't going to bleed and then a small drop pushed to the surface. It beaded on her skin. She brought her arm to Lincoln's mouth again and waited.
He twitched and then opened and closed his mouth several times. She moved her arm closer until she was forcing it against his lips. He frowned and wrapped his mouth around the wound, suckling weakly. This wasn't so bad. She didn't know what she'd been afraid of.
He bit her.
She screamed in agony and then sank her teeth into her lip to contain it. Her eyes closed tight, squeezing the tears out and sending them dashing down her cheeks. It hurt so much. He sucked harder. She struggled against the pain, desperate to keep it inside. She didn't want him to stop. Instinct told her that he would if he sensed her pain.
He drank deep, each pull sending excruciating pain into her veins. When she was about to have to stop him, he released her. She went to move her arm away. His fingers closed around her wrist, making her heart jump in her chest. She tried to take her arm away from him. He brought it back to his mouth and she wondered if she'd have to stop him after all.
His tongue traced the marks on her arm. There was such tenderness in his actions that the pain faded away until it felt nothing more than a hazy memory.
He pressed a kiss to the marks.
She smiled, filled with relief and glad to see he was a little better. Her eyes drifted to the marks on her arm and then the ones drawn onto him. He was still losing blood. The chains rattled as he placed his hands on his stomach. She leaned over and pulled the pins out of the bottom of the thick steel cuffs, releasing his wrists. Her fingers lightly caressed his skin. It was red raw from being rubbed by the sharp metal. He purred again. There was still so much pain inside him. She needed to get him home and safe. It would be dark soon enough and she had no doubt that the vampires would be after them.
Laying his head back down on the seat, she covered him again with the blanket and closed the door as quietly as possible. She sat back behind the wheel and pulled the car out onto the road again, heading for the compound.
The gravel crunched under the tyres. The long drive from the gates to the house felt like miles today. The sun was beating down on her, a complication that she didn't need. She drove straight towards the garage and down into it, dumping the car in the middle.
She left the engine running and pulled the rear door open. Lincoln was conscious. She whispered comforting words to him, unaware of what she was saying. It was a compulsion. She needed to tell him these things. There was so much pain in him. Her fingers made swift work of the heavy shackles on his ankles. They fell to the ground with a clang. She helped him out of the car, keeping the blanket around him. His arm went around her shoulders, his weight bearing down on her. He was still weak. She had to get him more blood.
The attendant was awake and calling for back up. She glared at him and cursed as she helped Lincoln walk.
His movements were slow and sluggish. He was so heavy. She could sense his pain and his weakness. This wasn't normal. She'd never experienced anything like this. Strangely, it didn't bother her. It felt normal. It felt right that she should be able to sense his feelings.
She ignored all the questions in her mind and focused on getting Lincoln to her apartment. They entered the hall to find hunters gathered there. Her senses told her that Daniel was coming.
She felt an incredible urge to growl when one of the young male hunters who had taunted Lincoln stepped towards her. He backed off when she glared at him and sneered, and a wary look entered his eyes. Holding Lincoln close, she tried to hurry him without hurting him further. They needed to get safe and get away from these people.
Daniel fell into step beside her.
"What the hell is happening?"
She ignored him and continued towards her apartment.
"I asked you a question!” Daniel grabbed her arm.
Lincoln roared and swiped at him. Lilith's eyes widened at anger she felt in him and the sight of his claws. She placed her hand against his chest, hoping to calm him. He was still losing blood. She could smell it. He had to conserve his strength and Daniel wasn't worth it.
She saw that Daniel had stopped a short distance away. He was talking to a group of hunters from her company. He was talking about her. She turned her back and continued walking.
Reaching her door, she held Lincoln around the waist with one arm while she opened it. She led him inside, taking him into her room and laying him down on the bed. She turned the lamp on and frowned when she saw the mark on his neck was beginning to heal and fade.
Her sense kicked in. She ran into the lounge area and grabbed her camera off the shelf. She had to document them. Instinct told her they were important.
She took a picture of the one on his neck. Lincoln flinched and growled at the flash. She turned it off, silently apologising for hurting him. She'd forgotten how sensitive his eyes were. Letting the camera dangle around her neck, she rummaged through her bedside table drawer, looking for scissors. She found them near the back, picked them up and closed the draw.
Cutting away Lincoln's t-shirt, she made sure she was careful not to touch any of his wounds. He moaned and pain stabbed her heart. She could feel his agony as though it was her own. It compelled her to help him, to ease his suffering and do all she could to make sure he healed quickly.
She snapped pictures of the remaining marks on his chest, stomach and arms. They were beginning to disappear now. By the time that she'd gone to the door of her apartment to lock it and returned, they were nothing more than indistinct scars.
Placing the camera down on the bedside table, she looked at Lincoln and then through her bedroom door at the kitchen. She didn't have healing saliva like he did. All she could do was clean his wounds. She walked across the apartment to her kitchen, grabbed a glass bowl and filled it with warm water. It sloshed side to side as she hurried back to her bedroom and Lincoln. She set it down on the table and then ran into the bathroom, taking one of the clean white handtowels off the shelf.
Instinct told her to lick the wounds. She dipped the towel into the water. It was all she could do. Whatever it was inside of her that was telling her what to do, it didn't understand. It wasn't satisfied. She didn't understand either. Her mind filled with questions that her heart ignored.
Lincoln groaned again. It ended in a growl. She squeezed the water out of the towel and looked down at him.
Her heart told her to help him and not to question this strange connection between them.
It whispered frightening words to her.
It was what she'd wanted after all.
Lincoln could feel only pain. It consumed him, tearing apart the darkness like lightning. The great yawning abyss of Hell waited below. It scared him, sent spikes of terror though him and burned the marks on his body until he felt as though the flames of Hell were already touching his skin.
The fire licked at his flesh. The darkness called to him. It beckoned.
Tiredness became exhaustion. The last of his strength ebbed away. The night's comforting arms tempted him, luring him towards the black hole below. It promised relief. It promised an end.
Soft-spoken words filled his mind, soothing, reassuring. Cool water drenched the inferno around him, on him. He clung to her sweet voice and those whispered words she sent to him.
He feared the fire-rimmed circle beneath his feet and the screams issuing from it. He knew what was waiting for him there and what awaited him back on Earth. He needed Lilith.
Warmth filled his heart and chased away the cold. His eyes fluttered opened and she slowly came into focus. She leaned over him, tending his words with gentle strokes. There were tears in her eyes, tears for him. His blood covered her. A mark was on her arm. His mark.
He must be delirious. It was a wonderful dream, one that would surely send him to his grave a happy man. Only it made him feel nothing but regret. He never should have left her. His place was by her side.
He swallowed to clear his throat, wanted to speak to her and hear her voice. He wanted to tell her that he needed her and he was sorry for everything he'd said, for all the spiteful words and half-truths. He loved her.
Her hands bathed his body, her fingertips grazing the marks, his cheeks, and his hands. There was such concern in her air and in her. He could feel it, sense it. It gave him peace and, more importantly, an anchor in this world, something he could hold onto to stop himself from falling into the darkness.
Red-rimmed dark eyes met his, filled with unshed tears whose predecessors stained her cheeks. Fatigue mixed with relief inside her. Her soft hand cupped his cheek and regret came swift when the pain subsided enough for his sense to return. He realised what was happening. It was the bond, the claim. She didn't wholly know what she was doing. It was there in her eyes, a hint of the confusion locked deep inside by her instinct to protect him at all costs. She'd hate him for sure when its grip on her loosened.
"Sleep,” she whispered and he wondered if he was wrong. There was so much love in her eyes now. “Sleep."
He did, lured into a comforting slumber by her words and the safety they made him feel.
Lilith watched him a moment, finally admitting to herself that something was different. There was a connection to him and it seemed to work both ways. She'd seen the regret in his eyes and felt his anger at himself. He'd done something that had changed her, them. She couldn't think straight. Her heart spoke to her, telling her to guard him while he was so vulnerable. Her mind told her to escape or to wake him and ask him what was wrong with her, why was she so worried about him now and what was it she was feeling. She knew that he'd have answers to those questions.
He flinched, his face contorting in pain, and her heart drove her again.
Blood.
He needed blood and she had to get it for him. Only she needed to protect him too. He was vulnerable while he was sleeping.
A knock at the door made her jump and instantly turn. Her senses reached out, trying to see who it was. She left Lincoln's side and went to the door. On the other side was Daniel.
He stepped towards her.
Her eyes widened as his foot touched the threshold of her apartment.
She sneered, grabbed him around the throat and shoved him backwards against the wall opposite. She bore her teeth at him and brought the arm holding him around, propelling him down the hall. He stumbled a few steps and stopped, holding his throat and staring at her.
She screamed at him.
He backed away, giving her a concerned look. When he was gone, she breathed hard to steady her heart. She pulled the door shut and stood sentinel outside it, her senses locked tightly on Lincoln, monitoring him. She stood there in silence, only moving when someone dared approach or tried to pass her. She growled at anyone who strayed too close.
She was trapped in her own body, a slave to her senses and instinct.
Time began to blur until she was no longer sure how long she'd been there, staring at the white wall opposite and waiting. It began to slow, stretching beyond something tangible. Seconds slipped into minutes, and minutes trickled into hours. Her eyelids grew heavy and she had to lean against the door for support. Her insides became hollow until she was an empty shell. Sleep beckoned but she forced herself to stay awake. Lincoln was still resting. He was still vulnerable. He needed her.
Daniel returned with others, the hunters from her company she'd seen him speaking to when she'd arrived back with Lincoln. He kept his distance. She stared at him, too tired to speak or even growl. She stood a little straighter though, determined to protect Lincoln with the last of her strength.
"It's been two days, Lilith,” Daniel said. That shocked her. Two days? It felt longer, yet shorter at the same time. He held a bottle of water out to her. “You need this. Take it. I can't say I understand what's gotten into you, but I won't stand here watching you suffer."
She ignored his words and continued to stare at him.
He leaned against the wall opposite.
It was a message. He wasn't going anywhere.
She didn't care. Let them watch her. Let everyone come and see the freak show.
The others were staring. They didn't concern her. Only Daniel's presence disturbed her. He was capable of trying something under the pretence that he had her best interests at heart. Even in her insanity, she'd not forgotten what he'd done. He'd betrayed her. They all had. They all wanted to hurt Lincoln and take him away from her when he was weak.
She wouldn't let them.
She couldn't let them.
She'd fight them until the last, until she had no strength left and was lying in death's arms.
They'd never have Lincoln.
She swayed on the spot. Her body was shutting down. Her legs turned to jelly, unable to support her. Her insides rumbled and begged her to take the food and water they had.
Daniel moved forwards. She used the last of her strength to growl at him.
Her legs gave way. The world drifted away for a moment. When it came back, she was kneeling on the floor held tight in someone's arms. Her head rested heavily against his shoulder and she curled up against him, tired and delirious. His embrace was so comforting and reassuring. She closed her eyes and let him take over, knowing he would look after her and ensure that she was safe.
Lincoln growled and held her closer. The command echoed clearly inside her head. He was forcing everyone to leave. He was protecting her. Tears spilled down her cheeks and she buried her head against his neck. She could feel the pain in him. He'd come to her regardless. He'd felt her weaken and he'd come to her.
He struggled to stand with her, one arm locked tight around her back and crushing her against his chest. He moved backwards and she realised she was being led into the apartment. The door closed. She was too tired to fight him. Her heart longed for his embrace, his nearness. She went with him to the bedroom and lay beside him, enclosed in his arms with her head on his chest.
"Sleep,” he whispered and she felt the command behind that word in her heart.
Her strength finally left her.
She could follow her mind and shout at him tomorrow.
For now, she would follow her heart and remain in his arms where she wanted to be.
Lilith drifted into consciousness and curled up in the blanket. It was the perfect temperature, a cocoon that she didn't want to leave. She buried her arms inside and pulled it up to her neck. It had been a long time since she'd felt so refreshed after sleep.
The apartment was silent. She couldn't sense anyone in it. Was it all some strange dream? Peeking under the duvet, she saw that she was wearing only her underwear. Maybe it really had been a dream.
A voice at the back of her head said she had to get up. She didn't want to and it was a struggle to get out of bed. The apartment was cold when compared to the warm soft bed. She huddled up and went into the bathroom to grab a quick shower.
It was when she was drying off and looking at herself in the mirror that she noticed them.
A neat set of dark bruised holes on her forearm near the inside of her elbow. She stared at them. It was real. It all came crashing back, swamping her and making her feel as though she was going to suffocate.
God.
She'd acted crazy, beyond insane, and had been unable to stop herself. Her desire to protect Lincoln had been overwhelming. It had controlled her.
Her hand covered her mouth.
She'd threatened Daniel.
In some respects, he deserved it for lying to her, but he was still her superior. She was in so much trouble.
Her eyes widened as the rest came back.
She'd hit that poor garage attendant and stolen a car, which she'd promptly smashed up attempting to save Lincoln.
Scratch the being in trouble. She was dead.
Everything she'd done, all the insanity, could be traced back to one person.
Lincoln.
She grabbed her clothes and tugged her dark blue jeans on as she headed for her boots. There was no time for underwear. She had to find Lincoln. She was going to kill him.
She dumped her wet bathrobe on the couch and pulled a cream baby-doll t-shirt on over her head. It stuck to her damp skin, making it hard to get on. She gave a growl of frustration as it fuelled her anger.
He was so dead this time.
She pushed her feet into her boots and hurried for the door, intent on finding him and fighting him. It opened and she found herself face to face with him. He was holding a tray of food—fruit, water, and all the good things her stomach was calling for. She was so hungry. She looked at the food and then into his eyes. He wasn't going to win her over that easily.
Nothing suppressed the appetite like rage.
"What did you do to me!"
He looked taken aback. Had she been wrong?
Her eyes searched his, desperate to see if she was way off the mark. He sighed and set the tray down on the kitchen counter. Oh God, she was right. A thousand things rushed to her tongue but she couldn't get any of them out. He looked disappointed, frightened almost. She stared at him, waiting for the answers that would clear her head up and make all the confusion go away.
"It happened when you were dying,” he said with resign in his voice and leaned against the cupboards.
He was keeping his distance from her. For some godforsaken reason that damn puppy dog look in his eyes and the gap between them made her want to go to him. She knew that what he'd done wasn't what had brought that look out. It was the memory of that night. It was the first time he'd mentioned it since then, and the first time he'd stated that she'd been dying. The very idea of that shook her. She had been dying and he had saved her. He'd refused to let her go, even when she'd begged.
"I was not comfortable with what I had done, so I did not tell you."
Her anger faltered. She clawed it back and stoked it a little, resolved to remain upset this time.
"What the Hell did you do to me?"
He pushed off from the cupboard and walked over to her. Her fist flew at him, determination to get some answers driving her actions. He deserved a good smack. Before she could blink, he'd caught her hand and had both of her wrists locked tight in his grip.
"I may have accidently claimed you as my mate.” He was so calm, saying that as though it was an everyday occurrence and one she could live with.
It wasn't.
Stunned didn't cover how she felt.
Betrayed, hurt, annoyed, confused, and angry did.
Other emotions joined them—a hint of affection, the tiniest trace of understanding, and a miniscule amount of happiness.
"Tell me ... how do you accidently mate with someone?” Her sarcastic tone melted away as fear joined the ranks of negative feelings. Mortified swiftly followed it. “We didn't—?"
He shook his head, looking a little horrified too. For some reason, that hurt. Wasn't she good enough for him? Didn't he want to sleep with her? He'd slept with her last night, although not in the carnal sense. She distinctly remembered a large amount of snuggling. Somewhere deep inside she giggled at that. A vampire snuggled.
The vampire spoke again, chasing away any hint of amusement.
"I sealed your wounds, tasted your blood and said, for some goddamn reason, esto perpetua."
She frowned, the hurt returning. He really hated this. She hated it too of course. He'd said those words though, had cast whatever spell it was that had formed this odd bond between them. She thought he would've had to have some desire for it to happen in order to make it work.
Esto perpetua. Latin again. She racked her brain, trying to translate it.
His thumbs brushed the inside of her wrists. It distracted her, drawing her attention to him and how close he was. Too close. Too tempting.
Her gaze flickered to his mouth.
"Let it be everlasting,” she whispered.
"It should not have been enough to create a claim between two full blood vampires, not even when you responded."
That dragged her out of her daydream about his lips.
"Responded?” Her eyebrows shot up and her eyes followed, locking with his.
He was very close and damn he did look good. Pale, sinfully handsome, with those beautiful rich brown eyes that could see right through her. She shook her head to clear it and shooed those thoughts away. It was just this stupid claim making her think those things.
He smiled. “You said ‘always'."
She yanked her hands free, couldn't believe it. She'd said that to him? She'd been delirious. The pain had been so intense and she'd been dying. There had to be some kind of clause that nullified it if one of the party was out of her mind and on the verge of death.
"But you said it shouldn't be enough ... I'm only half blood, if that!” She backed away from him.
"Unless..."
"Unless?” She'd never heard such a sinister word before. It was laden with meaning, stirring fear inside her tense body. She was scared of what he was going to say. She was frightened it was true.
He stepped towards her and she moved backwards, keeping the distance between them steady.
"Unless the feelings between the two are particularly strong. A natural bond could be created with only belief of eternal love between them."
"Oh God no!” She held her hands up, her heart thundering. “That right there is wrong. You're wrong! I don't love you!"
He smiled again, sly and knowing. “You must feel something or it would not have happened."
"No!” She continued to back away. Her senses said she was running out of space. “I feel nothing ... except intense loathing."
He slammed his hands against the wall the moment she bumped into it. They blocked her escape, pinning her into a cage where three walls were him and one was solid brick.
"I told you once not to lie to me.” His voice was low, dangerous, sending tingles arcing along her nerve endings and her stomach fluttering.
He leaned in until he was so close he was almost touching her.
"I feel something,” he said in the same deadly tone and held her gaze. She couldn't look away. The truth in his eyes held hers there. She wanted to see his feelings for her. They thrilled her. “I felt it the moment I saw you, the second you walked into your superior's office ... and you felt it too!"
She flinched away. His shout had been deafening. His anger surprised her. She'd only seen him this upset once and that was when she'd last lied to him and he'd admitted his fear of death. She'd felt in that moment how important it was to him to survive this. Was she that important to him too? Was that why he was so upset now?
She did feel something, the same as he did. There was a fundamental difference between them though. She was never going to admit to those feelings.
"Go to Hell!” She shoved him backwards and ran for the door, opening it.
"A few more days and I will!"
She stumbled down the hall, holding herself and hating him for saying those words and hating herself for being weak and crying.
She couldn't stop the tears.
It hurt so much to think that he was going to leave again and that this time he might never return.
Lincoln drained the blood bag dry as he walked. It turned his stomach and did nothing to ease the feeling inside of him. A few shots of vodka at a bar he'd passed hadn't done anything either. In fact, it had only made his anger worse.
They'd been making progress and then she'd gone and thrown it all back in his face. She had a right to be upset but it took two to make a claim. He knew that her feelings for him were as strong as his own. She was just too stubborn to admit them.
Did she think he was enjoying this? Obviously, her researchers didn't know that much about his kind after all. The Law Keepers would have his head if they discovered that he loved a mortal and didn't intend to turn her. They probably wanted his head anyway. Mikael was bound to have told them that he was conspiring against his bloodline by evading capture. In a way he was. He had refused to help his lord and had run halfway across Europe to form an allegiance with a group of vampire hunters in order to avoid capture. He also intended to kill his lord if possible. Anything to avoid his fate.
That would definitely count as conspiracy.
Even if he survived this, the Law Keepers would eventually capture him and make him stand trial for his sins.
One less sin could get him a sentence other than death, yet the thought of that didn't compel him to stop pursuing Lilith. He was willing to run forever if she'd run with him.
She wouldn't of course.
She apparently hated him.
It hadn't been hate in her eyes last night when she'd been tending to him. He'd felt her love, knew it was real and not a figment created by the claim. She felt something for him.
He looked at the cemetery that her scent had led him to. It was the same one he'd found her in with her ex-boyfriend. A pleasant character he was. He seemed the type that would enjoy beating weak vampires to a broken mess and then leaving them half dead. What the hell had she been doing with such a pathetic fool?
Still, that wasn't of concern right now. Right now, he wanted revenge. If she thought her little outburst had been nasty and spiteful as she intended it to be, then she didn't know the true meaning of those words.
He could be spiteful.
He could be a bastard if she wanted to play that game.
She wanted to hate him. He'd give her reason to.
He found her stood in front of her sister's grave. There were tears in her eyes and sparkling on her cheeks. He could sense her jumbled feelings, none of them clear enough discern what they were. Something was amiss. He reminded himself that he didn't care.
"Ironic really,” he said, staring at the name on the headstone.
No response.
"They called you Lilith, yet it's your sister Eve who is the evil one."
"Eve wasn't evil!” She flew at him and he held his hands up by his sides, letting her hit him, making her release all her anger and hurt.
She struck time after time, punching his chest, her brows knit into a scowl.
"Harder,” he whispered, coaxing. “I can take it, Lilith. I can take it all."
She hit harder, grunting with effort as tears streaked her face. He steeled himself against each punch. Each blow had a meaning, a feeling behind it. All of them spoke of pain and suffering, of confusion and anger, and of fear.
"It's not just Eve is it?” he said.
Her eyes met his. She didn't stop hitting him.
"Who are each of these punches for?"
"You.” Her tone was bitter and her fist struck his chest with each word she spoke, punctuating them, reinforcing them. “Her. Jackson. Me."
She hit him hard enough that his bones ached.
"I shouldn't feel anything for you!” She went to hit him again but he caught her fist.
He held it and gently uncurled her fingers. Her palm was bleeding. Half-moon marks showed where her nails had been digging in. Slipping his fingers under hers, he raised her hand up and kissed her palm, licking to seal the cuts.
Her eyes bore into him. The fact that she didn't take her hand away surprised him as much as what she'd said.
"It is only us who set these rules. We can change them if we wish."
She took her hand back.
It struck him hard directly over his heart.
"Who was that for?” he said.
She frowned. “Him."
"Him?"
"Mark.” There was hurt in her voice. It stirred the embers of his anger.
"Why?” He could understand the rest. Her anger at him because of what he was and what he'd done to her. Her anger at herself for how she felt about him. Her anger over Eve's and Jackson's deaths. But Mark? He didn't deserve her anger. He deserved death at his hands, not any feeling from her.
"Because he was right,” she said, resigned and solemn.
He said nothing but caught hold of her hand when she went to hit him again. Carefully holding it, he toyed with her fingers. So delicate but so strong. She was a walking paradox, a living set of contradictions.
"I did close myself off from him. I did stop talking to him and I did start talking to you. I've spoken with you in a way I've never done with anyone, not even my sister, and I think I know why. It isn't this bond between us.” Her fingers curled around his and held it. He looked at her, into her eyes, and saw that she meant every word. “It was because you didn't ask when everyone else did. You didn't push. You just stayed close and waited ... you waited for me ... you protected me. You made me feel as though it was okay for me to be weak if I needed to be ... I didn't have to be strong, because you were strong for me."
It was a small consolation that he'd done something right after all.
He'd held things from her though, and that was something he needed to change.
He had to tell her, regardless of how much it might hurt her.
She played with his fingers, staring at them to avoid his gaze, her cheeks coloured by her confession. If only she knew the lengths that he'd go to in order to protect her and see her safe. He'd do anything she asked, anything, if it would help her accept herself and accept him. She'd always be strong in his eyes, even when she was crying as she was now, or relied on his strength. Was she strong enough to hear this and understand though? Would she blame him because he was the only one around to take her pain out on?
"Lilith?” he whispered. “What if I told you I discovered something else on Daniel's computer?"
"What?” Her gaze met his and her nerves rose. He felt them in her and in the imperceptible tightening of her hand around his.
"Eve is not dead. The reason there is no body resting in the casket beneath our feet is because she is not at rest."
Her hand left his. “What do you mean?"
There were tears in her eyes again and the feelings he could sense clamouring inside her strained her voice. He was hurting her.
He reached out to her, needing to comfort her. She evaded his touch.
"Your sister was turned,” he said, hand curling into a fist to stop himself from trying to touch her again.
"No ... no!” She shook her head, spilling tears onto her cheeks. “It isn't true!"
"I am sorry."
"I hate you!” She hit him hard across the jaw, knocking his head to one side.
He closed his eyes and kept his head to the side. He deserved that one for hurting her, but someone had to tell her.
"I know,” he whispered. She didn't hate him. She hated his kind. “But you would have to hate Eve too. She is a vampire now, whether she wanted it or not."
His senses stretched out to her, monitoring her colliding feelings and her struggle. He wished she would let him comfort her and take away all the pain by holding her. She wasn't ready to do that yet. Over the past week, she'd been taking small steps in his direction. Tonight she'd taken another by admitting her feelings to him. It wouldn't do to rush her. She'd only distance herself again and every time she did that, it left him feeling bereft.
"Why?” Her voice was a broken hollow whisper.
That question wasn't for him. It was aimed at some higher power, at the god she believed in.
"Would you kill her if you met her?” he said.
She brushed the tears from her cheeks. He longed to do that for her.
There was a moment of hesitation and then she shook her head before looking at him. Her eyes searched his.
"Do you change when you die?"
He nodded. “But not everyone forgets. Some can live with a lingering trace of their past humanity and their memories."
"Do you?"
"No. I could not. I turned my back completely."
She frowned at him, still looking deep into his eyes. “Why?"
The curiosity in her voice surprised him. Either she was trying to distract herself from the reality of her sister's turning or she wanted to know more about him. At first, it had been concern for her sister leading her questions. Now it was all about him. If she wanted to know him better, he would tell her. He'd tell her anything, no matter the pain it caused him to remember.
"I had no choice, like your sister. Mikael chose me and now I know why he took my life ... to further his own somehow."
She touched his arm. An electric thrill ran through him. His senses latched onto the point where her fingers rested against his skin, savouring the contact and the meaning behind it. She wanted to comfort him.
"How much do you know about the contract?” she said.
The look in her eyes said she'd known all this time that he wasn't telling her everything. Surprisingly, there wasn't any sign of her being angry because of it.
"I know the purpose of it,” he said and sighed. “Mikael killed me. He found me in a drinking house, showed no sign of being interested in talking to me until he saw my hand and the mark. He drained me to the point of death and then gave me an option—live or die."
"And you chose to live, just as Eve would have.” Her hand slid down to his. His eyes half closed at the feeling of her willingly holding it, instigating this intimate act. “Does Oneiric know?"
Back to her sister again. Did she feel more comfortable around him now that she knew what had happened to her sister? Or was it because she was starting to accept her feelings?
He nodded. “Your father has promised to find her and keep her safe. He will raise her well."
Lilith gave a tiny smile. He could see no relief in it. She still hurt and he'd only added another reason for her to hate him.
Her stomach growled. He'd forgotten that she hadn't eaten for days. Her instinct wouldn't have allowed her to. Of course, that instinct was based on a vampire, not a human. A vampire could go weeks without feeding. A human couldn't. He had to get her something to eat. They both needed to feed.
The whole world had gone quiet and she was looking at him, waiting for something, only he didn't know what.
He flexed his fingers against hers, torn between remaining silent and speaking. He didn't want her to stop looking at him as she was now, with warmth and tranquillity, as though she loved him. He wanted this peace and calm between them to last forever. Breaking the silence would shatter it.
Would he be overstepping the mark if he told her they should return to the compound and get her some food? Would her feelings disappear again?
Her free hand pressed against her stomach. He said nothing. Instead, he held his empty hand out to one side, released hers, and waited for her to start walking before following. It was amazing how she had turned his world upside down so fast. He'd been raised to lead his family, to expect others to obey commands, and not to tolerate disrespect. She'd taught him that sometimes he needed to follow, to quietly persuade her to do as he wanted, and to respect her.
They walked in silence back through the streets towards the mansion. She kept step beside him, close enough that he could reach out and hold her hand if he wanted, but far away enough that he knew it would be a bad move. His eyes traced her pensive profile. Hers were locked on the floor, a distant look in them. She wasn't paying attention to where they were going. Her focus was wholly on her thoughts.
That surprised him.
It showed a level of trust he hadn't been expecting from her. She felt safe enough around him to trust that his senses would be alert and searching for any potential danger as they walked. Did she believe that he would protect her at all costs? Did she feel he wouldn't let anything happen to her?
It was true.
He'd defend her with his life if that's what it took. Although he feared death, for her he'd stand face to face with it and not back down. His hands curled into fists. In all the years he'd loved someone, he had never felt this way. Love had never driven him to sacrifice, or even thoughts of sacrifice. He would gladly surrender his life to protect hers.
That thought frightened him.
She was mortal. He'd watched her balancing on the knife's edge between worlds, between life and death. He'd dragged her back for his own selfish reasons, his need to keep her here with him where she belonged. Without her, this world would seem empty and grey. Without her, he'd have no reason to keep going, to escape his future.
What would happen to him when she did die?
Would he follow her to the grave?
"Lincoln?” Her soft voice pulled him out of his dark thoughts, wrapping him in light and comfort.
He glanced across at her to find her watching him.
"Is something the matter?"
Surprise claimed him again. He only had to reach out a fraction with his senses to feel the emotions behind those words. They weren't empty or said out of a need to break the heavy silence. She was worried. His quiet thoughtfulness worried her.
Or was it the emotions he'd been feeling?
Despair, anxiety, and fear.
She stepped into his path and he stopped close to her. His eyes met hers, drinking the feelings in them. They warmed him. To know that what he could feel in her was all for him made his chest tighten and ache. If it was illegal to love her, then he would face the Law Keepers and refuse to stand trial for this crime, because it no longer made sense. The only thing that made sense was his feelings and the connection between them. He loved her, and the glimmer in her eyes said she could love him too.
"Lincoln?” She moved closer, until he could feel the heat coming off her and smell the sweet allure of her blood.
His teeth itched. The voice deep inside said it could all be avoided if he made her his completely. Turn her. Eternity with her would be bliss.
Eternity had a habit of slipping through his grasp though. That voice had promised him eternity before. He'd had no more than a few years of happiness before she'd turned her back and chosen another.
A growl rumbled through him. Lilith's eyes widened.
A scream punctured the air.
Lincoln held his hand up and Lilith listened hard. Another scream, quickly followed by another. She looked around them. They were almost back at the mansion. Her heart accelerated to a thundering rhythm that commanded she run. She did. She ran straight for the compound and, terrifyingly, straight in the direction of the screams.
It was a cacophony, a blood-curdling discordant melody that chilled her to the bone.
She ran faster, instinct shouting that her home was under attack. Her friends were under attack.
Lincoln grabbed her arm and tugged her off the road. She followed him up the steep tree-covered embankment towards the gardens. He was right. If they were under attack, it would be foolish to run in a direction that was likely to be guarded and watched.
Breaking free of the bushes, she continued running blind until Lincoln's hand on her wrist stopped her. She looked at him, a frown marring her brow. He was stood perfectly still, staring past her towards the house. She turned there. Her blood ran cold.
Everywhere people were fighting.
Everywhere her friends were dying.
"Guards,” Lincoln muttered behind her.
She scoured the scene, stopped when she recognised a few of the people from her company and then froze when she saw him.
The man who'd had Lincoln was here.
She could only watch as he tore one of the female hunters apart, tossing her around as though she were a ragdoll. It turned her stomach to see so much violence and smell so much blood. The breeze carried it to her. The scent of death.
She tried to move. Lincoln held her tight, his grip vice-like and unrelenting.
"We have to go,” he said.
"No.” She shook her head and prised his fingers off her. She couldn't leave them. She had to help.
A woman caught her eye. It took her a moment before she realised it was the one she'd shot the day she'd rescued Lincoln. The woman was fighting with the same ferocity as the man, only her power was less. Even from this distance, Lilith could see that the man far outranked her in both skill and standing.
Lilith ran at her, intent on killing her this time.
Lincoln grabbed her again, this time dragging her backwards into his arms and wrapping them around her chest like steel bands.
"We have to flee,” he whispered into her ear.
A part of her wanted to do as he said. The greater part denied his order.
"I can fight,” she said and elbowed him hard to make him let her go. He only held her tighter. “I have to help them!"
"I cannot allow you to commit suicide.” There was such force in those words and the way he held her.
When she reached out a little with her senses, she could feel the emotions inside him—fear mixed with affection.
She struggled against him. It didn't matter what he felt or that he was trying to protect her. All that mattered was her friends were being killed and she had the power to help them.
"Let me go,” she said and wriggled. “I can help."
His fingers closed around her jaw and he forced her to raise her head. “Take a good look."
She did. It was a slaughter not a fight. The vampires far outnumbered the hunters outside the building's walls. They were butchering them. There was no hope.
No. She noticed a few were escaping into the woods and that the house was locking down. The shutters had already half covered the windows and the doors were being closed. Those inside would be safe, shut away behind thick panels of sheet steel.
She lowered her eyes to the battle again and found herself looking straight at the female vampire she'd shot.
"No discussion,” Lincoln said and yanked her arm. She stumbled backwards, her gaze still locked on the female. She was staring at them.
His speed increased and Lilith had to turn and run with him. It was hard with so little energy left. Her feet pounded the pavement the moment they reached the road and she kept running. Lincoln's grip on her wrist wasn't loosening. If anything, it was getting tighter.
They reached the outskirts of the city and she tried to force herself to keep going. It was impossible. She stopped and before she could say anything, Lincoln had scooped her up and thrown her over his shoulder. It dug into her stomach as he ran so she pressed her hands into his back and pushed herself up. The world jiggled and wobbled so much that it made her nauseas. She held onto Lincoln, knowing he wouldn't drop her. His grip on her thighs was sure and the position of his hands, so close to her backside, made her blush.
Calling her gift, she focused on the darkness inside her. She had to help in any way she could. Maybe she could see if anyone was following them.
The first thing she noticed was how acutely she could sense Lincoln's feelings when she was using her gift more, giving herself over to it. It was strangely reassuring to feel all the concern in him and the affection. It felt nice that he was worried about her safety.
The second thing she noticed was that they weren't alone. Whoever was following them wasn't doing it openly, but they were there.
"Lincoln?"
"What now?” he snapped.
She frowned in his direction and felt the abrupt shift in his feelings. The momentary anger disappeared, replaced with worry again. This time it felt different. She realised he'd sensed her anger at the way he'd spoken and was worried for that reason. This connection could prove handy.
"We're being followed,” she said.
"Verona,” he muttered.
Verona? She wondered if that was the woman's name.
"Is Mikael there too?” he said.
She reached out again. There was no sign of the stronger male.
"No. I think there's just the wom—” She squeaked when he suddenly dropped her to the floor.
"Stay there,” he said and shot off into the darkness.
Stay there? Like a dog? She was damned if she was going to let him fight that female vampire alone. She was doubly damned if she was going to keep letting him speak to her like that. So he was stronger than her, occupied a high rank within his bloodline and was no doubt far older. She still deserved a little respect. How did he think he was going to win her when he kept treating her as though she was inferior?
She frowned. Did she want him to win her?
Her heart said yes. Her common sense rebelled against it but was quickly vanquished. Damn the stupid vampire to Hell. She couldn't let him fight alone. She had to protect him and stop him from getting himself killed. The thought of him dying made her heart want to break.
Picking herself up, she ran, using her senses to track him.
He wasn't hard to find. The explosive combination of his and Verona's power was a sharp mark on her senses. The normally silver threads that outlined them in her mind's eye were bright white and shining. They were both giving it their all. This was a battle of life and death.
She skidded on the pavement when Lincoln roared. There was a command in it. This time it wasn't aimed at her. The woman shrank away for a handful of seconds and then regained herself. Verona. She was beautiful.
They circled one another and Lilith kept her distance, her eyes fixed on the female. She'd only seen her at a distance before. Up close, she was far more beautiful than she'd expected. Her long black hair hung in a shiny straight sheet down her back, seemingly impervious to the gentle breeze and unaffected by the fact she must have run to keep up with them. As Lincoln moved towards her, Lilith saw the woman's face. Her dark eyes rimmed with black makeup and fine features made her look like something from a period painting. The black corset top and tight trousers she wore emphasised how slim she was.
But she was strong.
Lincoln growled.
She wasn't as strong as he was though. Although their standing within their family was the same, his power far outweighed hers. From where she was standing, it looked to Lilith that Verona was already on the defensive. Why follow them alone if she didn't feel she had the strength to defeat Lincoln? Or was she just being cautious?
Maybe Verona knew a weakness he had and was biding her time.
Verona hissed, exposing sharp teeth.
Lilith stepped back and kept time with Lincoln, instinct telling her to remain behind him where she was safe. He wasn't telling her to leave. His posture was defensive too, but he wasn't protecting himself. He was protecting her.
She blinked and they clashed with each other, their movements faster than she could make out. Fists blurred as they flew at their opponent. Lilith focused on her senses, trying to sharpen them as much as possible so she could follow the fight and be ready to intervene if necessary.
Her hand reached into her back pocket and closed around her stake. She took a deep breath and held the stake tightly. She wanted to be ready in case a window of attack opened.
Lincoln moved into view, his swift punches hitting their target. Verona took them all, only managing to block a few. She didn't look to be weakening. If anything, they were both getting stronger.
There was so much fire in Lincoln's eyes.
She could feel the violence inside of him.
It was the only feeling there, burning in a dark void.
Verona growled and Lilith knew instinctively it was aimed at her. The female vampire's eyes fell on her as she evaded a kick from Lincoln. There was a sliver of a smile on Verona's lips.
Lilith's guard went up.
Verona was trying to get to her.
She was Lincoln's weak spot.
Could the female vampire sense the bond between them? Her thoughts veered off, her mind racing to imagine all possible outcomes of this fight. Would it hurt Lincoln if she died and vice versa? When he'd been injured, it had hurt like hell. It had called to her instincts even when he was over seventy miles away.
She ducked when Verona managed to pass Lincoln and took a swipe at her. Bringing her arms up, she defended herself as best she could and then started to attack. Verona was strong and no matter how much she tried, she couldn't get near her with the stake. She had to weaken her first. She hit her hard across the jaw and then kicked her in the stomach when she tried to evade another punch. The woman lunged at her, hissing and slashing with her claws. Her eyes were fiery red. Lilith flinched when one claw caught her cheek. Lincoln growled and suddenly Verona had disappeared, thrown across the road.
Lincoln backed into her, his hand pressing against her stomach.
"Keep back, Lilith,” he whispered.
She was stunned when his hand slipped towards hers and he took the stake she held.
"Lend me your strength to do this."
Before she could ask how, he was gone, lost in the fray again. The female growled and then shrieked as the stake grazed her shoulder. There was a look of pure disgust in her eyes and in Lincoln's. Lilith could tell it was aimed at himself. He was in pain from the holy wood and each glance he made at the stake made his feelings for it clearer.
He hated it.
It was hurting him both physically and mentally to use such a traitorous implement on one of this own kind.
She reached out with her senses, telling him with all her heart that he could do this, that he would win this fight and they would both be safe. He would have protected her.
Verona backed into a wall and Lincoln's hand grasped her throat. His claws penetrated her neck. Lilith wanted to look away but she couldn't, not when the woman spoke.
"Lincoln,” she said, pleading. Her expression was one of submission, of regret.
Lilith saw that the hand Lincoln held the stake in was shaking. His feelings were a mixture of anger directed at the woman and self-loathing.
She moved towards him, ready to kill Verona for him if that's what he needed.
She stopped when she saw the apology in Lincoln's eyes. So much hurt. So much hatred too.
Lincoln closed his eyes.
Verona screamed.
Lilith stopped breathing. The air felt too thick to drag into her lungs. She stared at the stake protruding from Verona's chest and latched onto Lincoln's feelings. It was a riot and it was hard to make anything out. There was so much pain. It burned fiercest of all, the only one she could feel in him clearly.
Lincoln turned away and walked a few paces before he stopped.
The woman began to disintegrate, her body sliding down the wall into a crumpled heap on the floor.
Lilith removed the stake from her chest and put it in her back pocket. She walked over to Lincoln and stood beside him, studying his profile. He still had his eyes closed. What was he trying to shut out? Was it the fact he'd used a stake to kill a vampire, or something else? There was so much pain.
She waited for him to speak. He said nothing.
Lincoln hid in the darkness of his closed eyes, struggling to overcome the turbulent waves of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He screwed his hands into fists, angry at himself for what he'd done and fearing it at the same time. Verona's death would anger Mikael and send him after him with vengeance on his mind. His heart whispered that Mikael would try to take Lilith, just as Verona had. They knew his weakness now. When she'd rescued him in London, she'd revealed to them the bond between herself and him.
Lilith was watching him. She stepped closer and her hand came to rest lightly on his shoulder. He could sense her need to comfort him. It touched him, warmed his heart a little and chased away some of the darkness, but did nothing to ease the pain that came from what he'd done. He'd killed her.
Opening his eyes, he looked at Lilith. It had been worth it to protect her. He would face the armies of Hell to defend her.
"We need to find a safe place,” he said and looked towards the horizon. “Dawn is coming."
She nodded. Only one place came to mind. He was certain that she wasn't going to like it but it was the only place they would be safe.
His thoughts slowed his footsteps. Lilith kept pace beside him, quiet and as introspective as himself. He wondered what she was thinking about. He'd expected her to ask where they were going or at least give some kind of input about where she wanted to go. He reached out to her a little more with his senses and realised what was wrong.
She was hurting. Not physically but emotionally. Her thoughts were with her friends back at the compound. Her fears were pounding down on her.
He moved closer, knowing his proximity would be of comfort to her. She glanced at him and then frowned at the floor again.
It was a short walk to their destination. When he stopped in the middle of the street, Lilith stopped too and looked at him. He stared at the club doors and the people outside. Even though dawn was approaching, people were still coming and going. All of them were drunk or high on something. He could smell it tainting their blood.
Lilith moved closer.
He glanced at her and saw she was staring at the blue neon sign above the double doors.
One.
Lincoln waited for Lilith to say something. Again, she surprised him by remaining silent.
Ushering her towards the doors, he nodded at the man stood sentinel outside them. He recognised him as the fair-haired man he'd taught some manners to last time he was here. The man gave him a wary look and then nodded, keeping his head bowed as they passed.
The thundering beat of the club assaulted his ears and he flinched away from it. His senses adjusted but not before his ears were ringing. How could a vampire bear to run a club like this or work here? It was deafening and the beat went straight through his stomach, turning it and reminding him that he needed to feed. So did Lilith.
His senses locked onto her and he realised she'd moved even closer. Her arm brushed his as they tried to move through the tightly packed crowd. He slid in front of her when he sensed her nerves and her rising tension. She wasn't happy. She was scared and she wanted to go. He used his body to protect her and keep her safe, shielding her from the people. They were a mixture of human and vampire. Predominantly human though.
He was relieved when they reached the bar and he spotted the other darker haired man he'd met before. He held his hand up and the man stopped serving drinks and came straight over. He stepped out from behind the bar.
The tension in Lilith rose again.
"Fancy seeing you again ... I mean ... sir,” the man said and tried to look around Lincoln. Lilith moved to counter his attempt to see her. Lincoln reached out behind him to see where she was and frowned when her hand slid into his. Her fingers clasped it tightly and she pressed herself against his back.
Were the vampires frightening her, or was it the possibility of seeing her father?
"The boss isn't here tonight, but I can contact him—"
"That shall not be necessary,” Lincoln said, finding it impossible to think with the music pounding his skull and all the heartbeats in the room calling to him.
None stronger than Lilith's though.
He held her hand a little tighter, showing her without words that he was here and he was going to protect her.
Her tangled emotions made it hard to distinguish how she felt. He turned slightly and looked at her. Her eyes were wide as they met his, reflecting her fear. They darted to the people crowded around her and he noticed that she skilfully singled out each vampire, bypassing looking at the humans. It was the vampires scaring her. She'd probably never been around this many, and a few of them were pure bloods.
When she looked at him again, her expression shifted, sadness fighting the fear in her eyes. She was thinking about the compound. He had to get her somewhere safe and reassure her. He knew it was hard for her to believe there was sanctuary here, in a place thriving with vampires, some of which shared his bloodline—the bloodline of those that had murdered her friends tonight.
She didn't feel safe. That's why she was clinging to him so fiercely. She knew in her heart that he'd protect her.
He kept his feelings calm and hoped they would give her an anchor and a strong sense of safety.
No one here was a match for him. No one would lay one finger on her.
"We need a place to spend the day. A private room. Away from prying eyes.” He made sure the man had heard everything, watching him closely. The man looked up at the balcony opposite the bar. “Somewhere quiet and safe. If you get what I mean."
The man nodded. He started through the crowd and Lincoln followed, keeping Lilith close behind him. The pain still lurking inside him threatened to break to the surface again. He held it back, not wanting Lilith to realise that something was wrong. He shouldn't have killed her. What had he done?
He followed the man up the steps to the balcony and stopped short of the top step when the man came to a halt.
"It's closed up here, shift it.” The man gestured down the stairs.
The people left. Only one vampire amongst them. This club was a strange affair, but perfect at the same time, at least for his kind. There were plenty of humans around getting intoxicated and wanting a good time. No easier prey in the world.
"I'll post a watch,” the man said as he led them across the balcony.
Lincoln noticed a door at the end of it.
The man opened it, revealing a small apartment with deep red walls. To the left was a double bed covered with darkest red sheets and to the right was a large couch and coffee table. Lincoln didn't want to think about the kind of sordid things that had happened in the room, he was just thankful that there was somewhere he could be alone with Lilith and look after her.
"I'll alert the others that there might be trouble. You sure you don't want me to contact Oneiric?"
Lilith tensed behind him, her fingers squeezing his.
"No, leave him be. Just keep us hidden, and, if you can, bring food ... human food and sugary drinks. No alcohol. We will be gone as soon as the sun sets,” Lincoln said.
He watched the man go, hoping that there wouldn't be trouble. His lord probably didn't know about the club and the sun would shortly be rising. Mikael wouldn't risk himself. He'd be more concerned about finding a safe place to spend the day.
He went to move but Lilith remained rooted to the spot. He turned to face her, still holding her hand as best he could. She was staring at the crowd below.
"Are you all right?” he said above the noise of the music.
"This is my father's place,” she said in a distant voice. “My mother came here."
He could sense peace in her. The thought that her mother had passed time here was comforting her. It was a soothing island in the turbulent sea of her emotions. There was such conflict in her.
Letting go of her hand, he placed his arm around her shoulders. He ushered her into the room and settled her on the large age-worn black couch. It looked comfortable when she sank into it.
"We are safe here,” he said and closed the door.
She was looking over her shoulder at him when he turned back to face her.
"How do you know that?” She frowned. “That man was a Vehemens."
"I am their Chosen Son. They will not allow anything to happen to me because of that and the fact that they share Oneiric's view that Mikael is insane."
He walked back to the couch and her eyes tracked him.
"You killed their Chosen Daughter."
Those words were like a knife in his heart. He slumped onto the couch beside her and stared at the far wall as he thought about what he'd done.
"I killed more than that,” he whispered.
He could feel her confusion. Before she could voice the question he knew was coming, the door opened and two women entered. They placed two trays laden with fast food and fizzy drinks down on the small coffee table and then left, closing the door behind them.
Both vampires.
He felt Lilith's eyes boring into him.
A glance at her revealed she was scowling in his direction. Had the presence of the females upset her? He pulled the table towards her and motioned for her to eat. She had to be starving by now but she didn't look as though she was going to do as he bid. He picked up the plate of potato wedges and placed them on her lap.
"I will force you if you leave me no other choice."
She glared at him and then began picking at the fried potatoes. He watched her eat for a while, wondering what it tasted like. His curiosity wasn't enough to distract him from the underlying thoughts running through his mind. Lilith took a large gulp of one of the glasses and then looked at him.
Her question was coming.
He beat her to it.
"Verona was my child ... I was the one who turned her.” He studied her face closely. “I loved her."
A pause and then she moved closer. He didn't feel any jealousy in her. He wasn't sure whether he was pleased about that or not. Didn't she care that he'd loved another or was her lack of jealousy because she was sure of his affection for her?
"And?” she said. “What happened?"
His gaze fell to his hands where they rested in his lap. He frowned and thought about Verona. Killing her had given him some sense of retribution although the pain it brought was raw and fierce even when he'd been prepared for it. The death of a child or a sire severed a connection between that pair. It left a temporary feeling of emptiness. He was sure it would pass soon enough. At least he hoped it would.
"She betrayed that love and fell for Mikael."
Her hand covered his, her fingers slipping in between them to brush his palm. He shifted his other hand, placing it over their joined ones. She was trembling. His thumb caressed her hand, a slow motion that he hoped soothed her.
"Are you all right?” he said, holding her gaze and trying to read in her eyes what was wrong. Her feelings were all over the place again.
"No.” She leaned forwards and cradled her head in her free hand. “It's all so confusing. Is this my pain or yours?"
"A bit of both I would imagine,” he said and swept a rogue strand of her blonde hair from her face. She half smiled. “Something else is bothering you."
"I can't hide anything from you anymore,” she said with a little laugh. He felt no amusement in her. “Talk to me. Take my mind off what's happening."
She sat up and looked right into his eyes with hers full of pain.
"I swear I can see it all. I can see them dying ... everyone I've ever known. It's so dark tonight. I don't think the sun will ever rise again."
"Come,” he whispered and put his arm around her. “Come."
She did. She curled up on the couch close to him, her head against his chest. Safe in his arms at last, where she belonged. He'd never let her go. He knew how much effort it was taking her to be this way with him, to let her guard down so completely and show him her weaker side. He was honoured she had chosen to do so with him and deep inside he knew that it wasn't just because he was the only one here for her. She was beginning to trust him and accept her feelings for him. She wanted him to comfort her.
"The sun will rise.” He rested his cheek against the top of her head, his fingers running along the silken strands of her ponytail. “I can feel the night fading. You can too if you try. The compound is safe and I am certain that most survived. We were not close enough to see."
"It's my fault, Lincoln. I should have gone to them. I'm their best fighter.” The hurt in her voice cut him to the bone, mingling in his heart with his own pain.
"No, Lilith.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “It is my fault. I brought them here. It is me they wanted."
He waited for her to fly at him as she usually did when he admitted that everything bad happening in her life was because of him.
She pulled back, leaving his chest cold and arms empty, and looked at him. She said nothing, putting everything she wanted to say into a light caress of his cheek. The feeling of her fingers resting against his skin in a touch so full of love and forgiveness stirred contentment inside him.
"Talk to me, Lincoln, please?” She moved closer, until he could feel her warmth and her fear. He listened to her heartbeat, strong and steady, unaffected by her turbulent emotions. “I don't want to think about it anymore. I don't want to think about where we are. Take it all away. Make it all go away. Please, Lincoln ... make me feel safe again."
He realised the strength it had taken for her to say those words to him, to rely on him so heavily and admit that she needed him to make her feel safe. Neither of them liked to show their weaknesses. He wrapped his arms around her. He would show her that he had his weak side too and that it was all right to sometimes lean on others for support. Together they were strong.
Her fear whispered to him. He could be the only one left for her now.
"What would you like to talk about?” he whispered.
She rubbed her cheek against his chest and he lay back against the arm of the couch.
Lilith closed her eyes and listened to the silence inside him. It was comforting for some reason, along with the feeling of his arms surrounding her. She no longer had the strength to battle her feelings. She wanted to be close to him. Her heart told her that he would protect her and always look after her. She was safe here in his embrace.
His fingers started a slow caress against her arm, running lightly up and down, adding to the safety and comfort he gave her.
"Tell me about the claim and its effects."
He tensed and then relaxed. She got the impression he hadn't been expecting her to ask about that. She was curious to know what else was in store for her. This was something she had to live with now and it wasn't going anywhere.
"Use your senses. Do not be frightened of what you feel. Reach out to me.” His voice was low and soft, a calming melody close to her ear.
She did as he said.
His hand moved, the backs of his fingers brushing across her cheek. He caught her lip with a light caress of this thumb, sending a shiver through her.
She could feel the love behind that caress. It was astounding. She could feel everything in him. The happiness, the fear and the hope. The affection and tenderness, mixing with concern.
"I will never leave you, Lilith."
Her heart leapt at that, warming until it felt as though it was on fire. She smiled, content.
"I will never hurt you either."
"You don't have to tell me that. I know,” she said.
His thumb swept along her jaw. “I do. You need to hear me say it."
She looked up and realised she was squashing him into the corner of the couch. Sitting up, she remained close to him. He sat up too, his eyebrows knitting into a frown as he looked at her. He leaned towards her and she tried to stifle the sense of anticipation that bubbled in her stomach at the thought he might kiss her.
He nuzzled her cheek and licked it. It stung and she realised she had a cut there. He licked it again, sealing it for her. Her eyes closed.
"I will never hurt you,” he whispered into her ear. “I will protect you with my life and will try to keep you safe."
Now her heart was on fire.
She cleared her throat, trembling inside and fighting to find her voice.
"I'm a hunter. I can handle myself,” she whispered in return.
"I know, but it doesn't change anything, Lilith. I will protect you until death claims us both and eternity has been ours.” He moved closer, his arms wrapping around her and holding her. She reached out to sense his feelings. There was sadness in him and it spoke to her, giving her the silent meaning behind his words and the feelings in his heart. “I will love you beyond it, until the sun no longer shines and the moon has become dust."
Her arms went around him, holding him tight as her sadness rose to meet his.
"Don't speak like that ... don't make my life a passing hour in your existence. I can't bear it.” She buried her face into his neck, no longer afraid of the feel of his cooler skin. She needed to hold onto him, to know that he was real and he was still here. Nothing would take him away from her. Nothing.
He removed her arms and gave her a hesitant smile. She held his gaze as he wiped the tears on her cheeks away with the pad of his thumb. For some reason it made him happy to do that. Was it because she was seeking his comfort and letting him be close to her? She needed him close.
His hand moved to cup her cheek.
"Your life is my existence, Lilith.” His dark eyes held hers, speaking of so much love. “When you are gone, I will exist no more. The world will fade again until each day blends with the next. I will mourn you for a dozen lifetimes or I will die with you."
A hot and fat tear rolled down her cheek, quickly followed by another. Damn him for being a sentimental fool, for showing her more love than anyone ever had and for making her feel more love than she'd ever done.
She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, her fingers brushing his when she tried to get rid of the tears on the cheek he was holding.
Something dawned on her. All this talk of death but never once had he mentioned eternal life.
"You haven't said about turning me."
There was an amused glimmer in his eyes, as though he was surprised it had taken her so long to mention it.
"I have not spoken of it because I do not believe it possible. You hate my species so much that you would never want to become one,” he said.
"You've thought about it then.” She saw in his eyes that he had. Judging by them, he'd thought about it long and hard. “Don't I get a say in it?"
He frowned, his hand falling away from her. “Would you ever?"
It was cruel to get his hopes up. She'd realised that after she'd spoken. Her heart had compelled her to say those words, to see what his reaction to them was, and to test her own reaction. The outcome was that he wanted it, and while she liked the sound of eternity with him, she wasn't sure.
"I don't know,” she said and he looked crestfallen. She remembered what he said about Verona and that she'd been his child. He'd sired a woman and fallen for her, and she'd turned her back on him. Did he fear she'd do the same? Was that why he'd decided she wouldn't want to be turned? He wanted her to remain with him. “It isn't a no."
"I would be a good sire if you wished it ... or perhaps your father."
She'd forgotten about him. It seemed like the perfect excuse to talk about something else. The subject of turning was starting to frighten her a little. She'd never considered it before and the implications were massive. Eve was a vampire, a Vehemens like their father and Lincoln. Lincoln. He was promising her eternal life with him at her side. No one had so much as promised her a mortal life with them, let alone all of eternity. It was overwhelming to say the very least.
"What is Oneiric like?” she said.
Lincoln's look turned thoughtful. “I have only met him the once. He was strong and stubborn, very much like you. A good man and one capable of raising your sister well. He has a heart in him, a will to protect those he cares for."
"He doesn't even know us."
He touched her cheek again and then her hand. He frowned at them. She looked down and saw her knuckles were red. It was probably from punching him. She'd hit him so much, so hard. She'd given it her all, unleashing everything on him. He'd taken everything she'd thrown at him. She didn't understand why, but his feelings for her had to have something to do with it.
"You're his blood, his legacy. A vampire cannot have children. I cannot imagine what he must have felt on seeing his offspring with his own eyes."
Her frown wrinkled her nose. “His own eyes?"
He held his hand up and she noticed the marks on his wrist again.
"I don't understand,” she said and ran her fingers over the puncture wounds.
"Blood cannot lie. We can see memories in it. The blood remembers. If we drink from another vampire, we see what they have seen. Unless you block the attempt."
"You showed Oneiric your memories of me."
"Every last one ... including the night I claimed you."
"Did you see memories in my blood?” She was curious about how this worked. First the bond between them and now being able to see memories in blood. She was learning more about him and his species every second.
He shook his head. “Human blood has no memory. Yours had none. Perhaps your blood is too human to retain them."
His eyes caressed her neck, his look turning distant and dreamy.
She placed her fingers under his chin and raised his head, forcing his focus back to her and away from her throat.
He grinned, revealing blunt teeth. She was relieved to see he hadn't started to change. Just as the food on the table tempted her to taste it, her blood must call to him. He hadn't eaten enough to heal his wounds. She hadn't eaten enough to abate her hunger.
Her gaze fell to his side and she tentatively reached towards him. She caught the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it towards her, slipping her fingers beneath it. He breathed in, sucking his stomach in with it. She smiled shakily and met his eyes, raising his t-shirt all the while. There was fire in his eyes again. He'd looked at her with that same smouldering passion when she'd touched him that day in her apartment. His eyes half closed and he tilted his head back. She loved his reaction to her touch. It empowered her to think that she could bring him to his knees with nothing more than a light caress.
He didn't scare her anymore. Neither did her feelings for him.
She lifted the hem of his t-shirt to reveal the long wound on his side. Her fingers traced the edges of it, careful to avoid hurting him. It was healing well now.
She reached out and tested the connection, curious to know if it could reveal everything to her. He was hungry, full of desire. Her touch seemed to stir it, fanning the flames. She liked being able to sense how he felt. It was reassuring and added a new dimension to things.
He caught her hand, his grip firm at first but rapidly loosening until his fingers were barely brushing hers.
"Stop,” he whispered and her eyes met his.
It wasn't anger or revulsion speaking. Her heart told her that she was stirring too much desire in him, to fierce a hunger. He wanted her. She wanted him too. What was wrong with that? Did it worry him? Did he fear he'd lose control in the heat of the moment? He wouldn't. He'd never hurt her.
She took hold of his hand. It had blood on it and there was a cut across the back of it. She lowered her head and pressed a kiss to the thin red line. He was watching her. His intense gaze bore into her, following her every move. She wished she could heal him as he could her.
Spotting another cut on his upper arm just below the line of his t-shirt, she moved towards him. She placed a kiss to the cut and from there moved to the one on his neck. She slowly kissed the ragged slash that darted from below his ear to his jugular. The blood was still wet. Her tongue tentatively poked out and touched the cut. It tasted like human blood—metallic and acrid. She licked the cut.
Lincoln groaned.
He tilted his head away from her and sighed.
He liked that.
She smiled against his throat and licked the cut again, no longer caring about the taste of his blood. Feeling emboldened by his reactions to her, she kissed down towards the arch of his neck and bit lightly.
He growled.
He definitely liked that.
She nipped again.
"Harder,” he whispered, quiet and convincing, seductive.
She could feel how much he wanted it.
Lost in the moment and their combined feelings inside her, she bit as hard as she could, until she feared she'd break the skin. His arm closed around her, fingertips digging into to shoulder, holding her to him.
He growled low and feral.
Pricks of pain stabbed along her arm. She pulled back and felt Lincoln's feelings shift. His jaw tensed as he steeled himself. She could sense the incredible amount of restraint it was taking to keep himself still. His hand released her. Her eyes fell to the marks she'd placed on his neck, a perfect deep red impression of her teeth.
She was still staring at them, a little dazed and stunned that she'd done that, when he leaned towards her. She jumped when he pressed a kiss to the top of her shoulder and then lifted the sleeve of her cream baby doll t-shirt and licked her arm. When he was done and had withdrawn, she moved her arm so she could see what he'd been doing and realised that when she'd bitten him, it had been his claws that had dug into her. She'd made him change.
"Sorry,” he muttered and ran his fingers through his short black hair.
She looked at him.
The marks on his neck weren't going anywhere, and neither was this strange wish inside her that she'd been able to bite him properly and mark him as hers.
Maybe he was right. Things were moving a little fast.
More questions crowded Lilith's mind, all musings on his body and the differences between them. He'd been able to keep running for far longer than her. His stamina was incredible. She blushed at the dirty thought that surfaced at the back of her mind.
"Something wrong?” Lincoln said.
She shook her head, eyes wide and mortified. He could sense her desire. She reassured herself that he couldn't read her mind though. He couldn't know her exact thoughts.
"Tell me more about the claim,” she said and brought her feet up onto the couch.
"Well ... you know we can feel one another. There are other levels to it, some of which only come from a completed mating. I am uncertain if your blood is vampiric enough for that to happen."
"A completed mating?” She hugged her knees, trying to ignore the idea of mating with Lincoln. It definitely implied sex. “What's that like?"
"I've never experienced one personally. I had never thought I would experience any of this.” He seemed sad when he said that. Wasn't this something that happened often? Didn't all vampires have a mate? “A mating can be violent and both physically and mentally demanding."
"Violent.” She echoed the word. “Do all vampires mate?"
He laughed. “No, it is rare. I only know of a few that are mated in my bloodline."
He moved closer and took hold of her hand again, his eyes locked with hers.
"A claim is eternal. It is meant for those who have found the one they wish to spend the rest of their days with and is a sign that they have forsaken all others."
"Oh,” she said. It sounded romantic—the idea that two vampires would pledge themselves to each other for all eternity. “Can't it be broken?"
His hand left hers and she sensed the barriers come up around his heart. Had she said something wrong?
"Do you wish it to be broken?” There was such pain in his voice, more than she'd ever heard before. His tone became accusing. “Do you?"
She stared at him a moment. He turned away from her. She shook her head.
"That wasn't what I ... I didn't know it was possible ... Lincoln, I wouldn't...” She grabbed his hand and silently begged him to look at her, to sense what she was feeling and know that she was telling the truth. “Lincoln ... I honestly wouldn't."
"This is not easy for me to live with, Lilith. The implications of what I have done, of my feelings for you, are greater than you could possibly realise."
"Why? Tell me then ... tell me everything I don't know, because I'll never understand until you do. I need to know about this claim and how it affects us."
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.
"The Law Keepers will see me dead because of it."
"Law Keepers?” They sounded dangerous, and judging by his feelings, they were something to fear. “Like a police force? They police you?"
He turned to face her. “Worse. Our world only has one penalty. Death. If we are found guilty of committing sin, we are sentenced to death. To get a penalty lower than this is a miracle, nigh on impossible. Last time it took Hyperion threatening war and even then his sister was exiled."
Hyperion? Was he another Vehemens or one of the other bloodlines? She'd never realised the vampires had laws. Since meeting Lincoln, it had become painfully clear how little Section Seven really knew about the pure bloodlines.
"They'll kill you for loving me?"
"I could toy with you, use you and kill you, or turn you, and that would be fine as long as the outcome is your death or you becoming one of us. To love you and show no intention of turning you ... is a sin."
"That's ridiculous!"
"That is our law ... and it is not the only one I am guilty of breaking."
She leaned back into the seat and studied his face, sensing his feelings and trying to distinguish the exact emotions their conversation was evoking. He seemed troubled, angered but fearful at the same time.
"It doesn't matter anyway does it,” she said to her knees. “I mean ... Mikael will find us eventually and I can't fight him. I've felt his strength and he's more powerful than you, Lincoln, and we both know I couldn't beat you."
His hand touched her shoulder. “With training you could learn to harness your true strength, that which your blood gives you. I doubt there is time for it though. If Mikael himself has come looking for me, then it must be soon."
"I won't let him take you,” she whispered and frowned, determination filling her. “He can't take you from me."
Tears threatened to spill onto her cheeks at the thought of Lincoln leaving her again. If Mikael caught him then it was game over. There was no way she could save him a second time. Mikael would see to that. Wherever she went, Lincoln went and vice versa. When they caught him, they'd surely kill her.
She didn't want to die.
She'd never feared death before this moment. Now that she had a reason to live, someone to live for, the thought of dying petrified her. Now she understood how Lincoln felt.
Death was a black abyss. It was an empty nothing. With vampire blood running in her veins, Hell would be awaiting her.
"I will protect you, Lincoln, just as I promised. I won't let Mikael or the Devil have you. As soon as night falls, we'll head back to the compound and start researching again."
"The compound will be watched. By the time that we reach it, Mikael's army will have returned. They will expect us to go back there. We must go somewhere else."
She didn't know anywhere else. When Lincoln had told her they needed to find somewhere safe before dawn, she hadn't known where to go. The only safe place she knew was the mansion.
Thoughts of those trapped there and the bodies that probably still lay outside it made her blood turn cold. She wrapped her arms around herself and furrowed her brows, staring across the room at the bed. She didn't see it. She saw the fight at the mansion and heard the screams of her friends.
"Tell me about you,” she said, desperate to get her mind away from the dark thoughts that seemed ready to crowd it the moment she let her guard slip.
"About me?” He sounded surprised and felt it too.
She was growing used to this connection between them. It was comforting, placing a refreshing honesty between them. He couldn't lie about his feelings to her and she couldn't hide hers from him.
"How old are you?” She turned her head so it was resting on her arms where they lay across her knees. She wanted to see him when he spoke, wanted to watch the way his expression changed, shifting his handsome features. He smiled at her. Her heart thudded against her chest.
"How old are you?” he said.
A frown creased her brow but she was willing to go along with his questioning.
"Twenty six,” she said, holding his gaze. “Four years out of training."
His smile widened. “Add three hundred and eighty seven years to that."
Her mouth dropped open.
"You're over four hundred?"
He nodded.
"Jesus!” She couldn't help herself. She'd thought he was a little over two hundred at most. His right eyebrow rose. “Sorry ... it just surprised me. You were born in the fifteen hundreds?"
He nodded again. “In the year fifteen sixty four."
She frowned. “That doesn't add up. Fifteen ninety five, surely?"
"I assure you, I remember when I was born.” His head tilted to one side so he was looking at her straight. “You are forgetting I was not turned immediately after birth."
He had a point. Her head ached as she tried to calculate his mortal age. It took her a few attempts to get it sounding right.
"Five years my senior,” she said at last and reached over to take a potato wedge from the bowl. They were cold, but it was food and her stomach had started complaining again. She could eat a horse.
"Four hundred and eighteen years your senior."
She pulled a face. “That sounds wrong. I'm sure my father wouldn't approve of that age gap."
He pushed one of the glasses of cola towards her. She picked it up and sucked thoughtfully on the straw.
"Your father approved,” he said with a knowing smile. “What father wouldn't approve of a man such as myself? Chosen Son, powerful, skilled, devoted, and most of all in love with his daughter."
She held the smile inside.
"You forgot pain in the backside.” Her face fell. “Are you older than my father?"
He nodded.
That definitely sounded wrong. She was in love with a man older than her father. She paused and rewound her last thought. In love? Not just love but in love. She whined inside. She'd fallen in love with a vampire. She looked at him. He was still smiling, evidently pleased with himself and his position within vampire society. He was handsome now, his smile no longer cruel and his eyes no longer full of violent darkness.
In her eyes, he looked like the man she'd first seen, the one he'd been before she'd realised he was a vampire, but at the same time he'd become more than that. He loved her as no other man had. She knew that without him having to say it.
"You know where I was born. Where were you born?” she said, eating another chip and watching him. There was so much she didn't know about him. She wanted to know it all now, to rush against the clock to discover who he truly was inside in case she lost him. At the same time, she wanted take it slow, wanted to keep him safe from the contract and Mikael and have all her life to find out his innermost secrets.
"In a little place not far from here,” he whispered, his eyes following his fingers as he brushed her hair from her face. “London."
She smiled this time. She'd been right when she'd picked up the underlying accent at their first meeting.
"You've spent a lot of time in Oslo, but I thought you were British."
"I have spent a lot of time in many places across Europe. Being the Chosen Son entitles me to a life of freedom and luxury."
"It also entitled you to be chased across that continent and chained up with weird markings scribed all over you.” She ignored the frown he gave her for pointing out the downside to his position. “How did they catch you?"
"I wanted a look at the contract."
"I knew it!” She scowled at him. “I knew you'd go there without me."
"I am sorry,” he said, his fingers stroking her cheek, his eyes full of affection. “I only wanted to protect you from this life."
Her head lifted. “Protect me from what life?"
"With me, like this ... forced to hide for fear of capture or death, having to fight against overwhelming odds to protect ourselves and ensure our future together.” He sighed and leaned back against the arm of the couch. “I am a monster for what I have done to you. I gave you no choice. I dragged you into this for my own selfish reasons ... only I never realised the truth of my future. They never told me that we would be together."
There wasn't anything she could say to that. He had left her in order to keep her safe. He had tried to change his fate even though someone had told him that she was in it.
"What did they tell you about me?"
She felt his hesitation.
"That you would save me."
That was a lot of pressure to come out of nowhere. The air in the room suddenly became heavy and made it hard to breathe. He wasn't just asking her to protect him. He needed her to save him. Panic loomed up from the pit of her stomach. She'd stood face to face with Mikael. How was she supposed to defeat him? Even if Lincoln had ten years to train her, she'd never be strong enough.
Mikael wasn't the only problem either. There was the Devil too. This contract was all about the Devil. In all the Sunday school lessons she'd attended, they'd always made one thing painfully clear. You couldn't kill God and you couldn't kill the Devil. They were the balance. She'd talked about it with her sister so many times. Although there was evil in this world, there was an equal amount of good. Hunters were told to maintain the balance. Their duty was to fight the forces of evil in order to stop them from taking over and destroying all the good in the world, not in order to eradicate them.
"Lincoln...” She looked at him, wishing she were strong enough to save him. She didn't have enough belief in herself to do it. In her heart, she'd already failed. “I ... how?"
Gentle fingers stroked her cheek. “I do not know, but I have faith in you, Lilith."
That wasn't helping. He was seriously placing all his eggs in one basket with this one. She screwed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the dark voices at the back of her mind that said she wouldn't be able to do it. She'd never be able to save him. She wasn't strong enough for this. It had been hard enough before when he'd only asked her to protect him. Her whole world had gone insane, turned upside down by one man.
Her eyes opened and she stared at him. He looked so concerned.
"How?” she whispered, close to tears.
She wasn't strong enough to save him.
He smiled. “Do not question it. Just know that it has been foretold. They saw my future and your place in it. What will happen will happen because I found you and we're together."
There was comfort in his words. It was small and not enough, although it did take the edge off her fear and it chased away the dark thoughts.
His thumb swept across her lower lip. That chased away all her thoughts except one.
Her eyes shifted to his mouth.
Leaning towards him, she stared at it, intent on her target. Nerves fluttered in her stomach and anticipation made her heart jig in her chest. His hand left her face, sliding into her hair as she neared him. She swallowed and then wet her lips. A glance at his eyes revealed he was watching her mouth now. She looked down at his, at his tempting lips that had begged her so many times to kiss him.
She closed her eyes the second his mouth met hers. It was soft and cool, inviting, and made her want more. His tongue slid along hers as it entered her mouth, demanding and passionate, full of fire that made her blood burn. She tilted her head and deepened the kiss, her tongue tangling with his. His fingers held her hair, keeping their mouths fused together.
It was so different to kissing a human, but so very similar at the same time.
Her tongue followed a brief flash of a thought at the back of her mind, a flicker of curiosity. The tip of it caressed his teeth.
He pulled her off him, a dark look in his eyes.
"Don't do that,” he said with so much anger that she wanted to apologise. “I am not that in control of myself. I am hungry."
She hesitated and then offered her arm. He pushed it away.
"You are too weak already. I can feed later."
Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head, angered by the thought of him touching another woman. She'd seen the desire he'd felt when he'd killed that woman in front of her. The idea of him doing that now, when they were together like this, made her want to hit him.
Lincoln's look softened from one of confusion to understanding.
"They have blood here, stored blood.” He held her cheek in his palm. “I would never dare upset you by doing what you are thinking about, but I do not want to hurt you either."
Her throat felt tight. She pushed the words out.
"Only a little."
His eyebrows rose into a look of surprise. She offered her arm again, frightened that it would hurt as much as last time, but wanting to be close to him. Letting him do this would bring them as close as they'd ever been. Last time, he'd barely been conscious and had needed her blood for survival. This time, she knew he would take pleasure from it.
His look of surprise became awe when she raised her arm towards him, holding his gaze and telling him silently that she wanted to do this for him. It no longer scared her. He would never hurt her.
Lincoln stared at her arm. Was she aware of what she was offering him by doing this? He knew those marks on her arm were his, but he barely remembered it happening. Biting her now, feeding from her even the tiniest amount, would bring him pleasure and stir desire in him until he'd want her. Was she prepared for that? Earlier she'd wanted him as much as he did her. When she'd bitten him, he'd felt that hunger in her. He'd felt all her desire mirrored in him.
He took hold of her arm and glanced furtively at her neck. He wanted to taste her there again, needed to hold her in his arms and strengthen this connection between them through blood. He wanted to tell her all the right words, not just a fragment of them.
His eyes met hers. There was nothing stopping them. It didn't matter that the bond was already between them. Sharing blood and the words would strengthen the claim.
"Lilith,” he said and she looked at him, her expression a little dazed as though she'd been lost in her thoughts and in waiting for him to bite her. “Would you ... forget it."
She frowned and touched his arm. “Tell me."
"If we ... we could do this claim properly ... if you would...” He cursed himself for stumbling so much. How hard was it to ask her to share blood with him?
"You want me to taste your blood."
Apparently, it was easy for her.
He nodded and searched her eyes, trying to find any sign of apprehension or disgust caused by his request.
She cast her eyes downwards for a few seconds and then met his again.
"How much blood?” Her face paled.
"A drop, not much more."
"From where?” She was clever. He'd always known that. It was hard to fool her sometimes.
"Anywhere you want."
Her gaze stunned him by sliding to his neck.
"Here?” He ran a finger down his throat. The thought that she wanted to bite his neck made him hard, desire surging through him as he imagined how it would feel.
She nodded and his claws extended, slicing into his skin. Her eyes widened. A drop of blood tickled his neck as it escaped the wound.
He held his hands out to her, trying to encourage her and calm her at the same time.
She moved towards him painfully slowly, her focus on his neck and her lips parted. The drop of blood slid over his collarbone.
Her tongue caught it and she licked upwards towards the cut. His eyes closed, his breath leaving him in a sigh. She pulled back a little and then wrapped her lips around the cut and gave a shallow suck.
"Only a little,” he said, closely checking her feelings to make sure that what she was doing wasn't upsetting her in any way. She felt content but there was an underlying trace of nerves.
She sucked harder.
He groaned and went limp and boneless, melting into the couch. Her tongue flicked the wound, lapping his blood. His hands slid from her shoulders to her back, holding her close. He'd never imagined she'd do this. Perhaps her feelings towards vampires were changing or perhaps it was because it was him and his blood.
A solitary kiss by her to the mark on his neck made him wish she could bite him. He wanted to feel that exquisite pain that came with a vampire's bite, needed that hard pull on his blood and connection. Maybe one day. She hadn't said no.
She wiped her thumb across her lower lip, clearing the blood off it. It stained her lips red, making her more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. Her dark eyes were fixed on him, intent and searching. He reached out and swept his fingertip lightly across her lower lip.
"Where?” she said, voice trembling the slightest amount.
He looked at her neck and then down at her arm.
He sensed her relief. Maybe one day he'd bite her there and mark her throat. His world was full of maybes these days.
He'd like to bite her there, to mark her as his for all to see. It frightened her though. He'd sensed that when he'd nicked her neck back at the compound. Small steps. If he was patient, one day she'd let him. She'd come so far in so short a time, moving in his direction, learning to accept her feelings and wanting to be with him.
His hands slid around her arm, cradling it. He brought it to his mouth at the same time as he bent towards it. It was a difficult angle.
She moved.
Her heart thundered with adrenaline and nervous excitement as she turned and sat on his lap. He rolled his eyes closed at the feeling of her backside against his thighs, her warmth seeping into his skin through his clothes. He wanted to feel her against him, skin on skin.
She was watching him, her nerves abating. He brought her arm up to his mouth and opened his eyes. It was such a delicate and sensitive area to choose. She probably hadn't realised that when she'd cut herself to feed him. The soft pale skin of her forearm was alive with nerves, veins and the tendons that controlled her hand. It would've been better to feed him from her neck.
Sliding into his vampire guise, he focused intently on her arm. His marks remained there, twin scabs. He was glad he hadn't used his bottom teeth on her in desperation to get her blood. He could've spliced through a tendon or damaged the bone. His lips grazed her skin in a soft kiss. His fangs followed it, sinking slowly through the scabs and reopening them.
She flinched and tensed.
He withdrew and looked at her, red eyes meeting her browns.
A blush touched her cheek and she looked away. Was she ashamed? She felt embarrassed. It was natural to flinch when hurt. He knew how painful being bitten could be. He also knew how to make it pleasurable.
Lowering his head again, he licked the marks, lapping at the tiny drops of blood that had seeped free. He was careful to keep the sweeps of his tongue light and slow. His patience and restraint paid off when she shifted on his lap and he sensed the change in her feelings. The feel of his tongue against her sensitive skin was arousing her.
He closed his mouth around the puncture marks and sucked gently and leisurely, not wanting to startle her, slowly building up to the crescendo. She moved again and he breathed deep, savouring the heady scent of her blood mixed with arousal. Her free hand came to rest on his shoulder and then slid across to his neck. He groaned against her arm when her fingers toyed with his hair, tickling his neck and sending shivers of desire through him.
She barely tensed when he sank his fangs into her arm and a quiet gasp was all the sound she made when he gave a slow, deep pull on her blood. It was warm, delicious and intoxicating. He swallowed it down, an urge for more rising inside him until he was drinking slow and steady, suckling the wound and fighting to hold himself back. He wanted more. He needed more.
His fingers closed around her arm, holding it to his mouth. Hers played with his hair, stroked his neck in a feather-light caress that made his blood burn. He moaned, couldn't stop himself. Her cheek came to rest against his shoulder. Her breath fanned his neck, moist and hot, rapid puffs that matched the racing beat of her heart. It spoke to him, pushed him to take more from her, to take all of her.
Releasing her arm, he sat with his lips brushing the wound with each deep breath he took. He stared at her legs below and fought hard to quash the hunger inside him and to stop himself from going too far. She was mortal, not a vampire, no matter what her blood said to him. He couldn't lose control. He would kill her if he did.
No matter how strong she thought she was, she was as fragile as a rose in his hands.
"Lincoln,” she whispered into his ear.
His eyes slipped shut at the sound of desire lacing her voice, turning it heavy with emotion and meaning. She wanted him. He would be a fool to turn her away. He needed her more than anything.
He kept his mouth hovering above her arm and his eyes closed.
"In the eyes of eternity, let it be everlasting,” he said, his voice quiet but seemingly loud in the silent room.
Her mouth brushed his neck, her body warm as it pressed against his. Her arm wrapped around him and his lips parted as he focused on the feelings she was stirring inside of him, and the feelings he could sense in her.
"In the eyes of eternity,” she breathed against his throat. “Let it be everlasting."
He growled and grabbed her upper arms, turning with her until she was beneath him.
Lilith knew what was happening and she welcomed it. No matter how much the tiny remaining fragment of doubt at the back of her mind protested, it couldn't convince her that this was wrong. It felt so right. It was right.
Lincoln had told her that her future lay with him. They had looked into his fate and seen her there. It was meant to be.
His body covered hers and his arms surrounded her. Her lips met his in a kiss that stirred flames inside her, liquid fire that flowed through her veins. This is what she wanted. Loving him didn't make her weak. It made her strong.
She'd faced her inner demons and had fought them when she should have relented. He wasn't the enemy. He was the part of her that she'd been missing all this time, waiting for in the long lonely nights when the darkness had called to her. He'd made her understand herself better, had opened her eyes and made her see what she'd become. She'd killed countless vampires for Section Seven, always driven by her hatred of them, and her fear of what her gift meant. She'd never realised what blood flowed in her veins, and that she spanned both worlds, connecting them.
Section Seven had lied to her. They'd used her as their personal killer and bred this hatred into her. They'd told her the stories and constantly reminded her of the death toll in the war against vampires. She'd believed Daniel and everything he'd said. All lies.
She pushed Lincoln back and looked into his eyes. A flicker of confusion danced in their depths. Her hand cupped his cheek and her eyebrows furrowed. It had taken a vampire to make her feel alive and understand herself. Lincoln had never lied to her about what she was. He'd accepted her, had leant his strength to her and had faith in her.
She could feel all the love in him, raw and needy, weakening him but strengthening him at the same time. They weren't alone anymore. They had each other.
Her hand slid around the back of his neck as he picked her up. Their eyes remained locked and she absorbed the feelings in his. No man had ever looked at her like that, ever understood who she was inside. Mark had never seen her as Lincoln had—weak, vulnerable, scared. Only with Lincoln had she opened up her heart.
He placed her down on the bed and leaned over her, his lips playing against her throat. Her eyes closed and she sighed as she leaned her head backwards into the pillow. This was what she wanted and she'd wanted it from the moment she'd set eyes on him.
Since then, she hadn't been able to take her eyes off him.
A smile wound its way across her lips when she realised he was breathing. The fast pants matched hers, cutting the silence. Her fingers pushed into his hair and she held his mouth against her neck, relishing the way each kiss made a spark bolt through her. She wasn't in any danger but it thrilled her all the same.
His lips found hers and chased away all sane thought. She felt it drift away and felt the rise in her desire replace it, compelling her to kiss him back. She did, her tongue tracing the gap between his lips and his teeth beyond them. He tasted metallic. Her tongue ran along his teeth and she realised they were still sharp. She probed the tip of one fang and squeaked when it suddenly changed, becoming blunt. He really didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want to lose control.
Control.
So small a word but with such importance.
Neither of them wanted to lose it.
Both of them were scared of this.
He rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She found herself straddling his hips, their groins against each other. Her heart sped, hammering against her chest as nerves threatened to consume her.
His fingers skimmed her stomach just below the hem of her cream baby doll t-shirt. She bit her lip, watching his hands catch the material and begin to raise it. Her arms went above her head, assisting him, before she'd even thought about what she was doing. He tossed her t-shirt to one side.
She swallowed and felt like covering herself when his eyes raked over her, dark with hunger.
She'd been so angry with him earlier that she'd forgone underwear. It wasn't as though she'd thought she would end up straddling him about to have sex. The voice at the back of her mind compelled her to explain that she didn't normally walk around without any bra or knickers on, but she couldn't speak. She could only stare at him while his eyes took in the sight of her.
His hunger filled her senses when she reached out a little with them.
Her stomach jigged when his hands came to rest against it and firmly pushed upwards, giving her a fleeting impression of his strength. They claimed her breasts, cool fingers moulding around the fullness of them. She couldn't take her eyes off him.
His gaze moved to meet hers.
His hands moved out to the side of her breasts and his thumbs brushed her nipples, arousing them into sensitive peaks.
She half closed her eyes and leaned her head back, arching her chest into his hands. He squeezed her breasts and thumbed her pert nipples again. Shivers danced out from their points, electrifying her nerves and making her moan.
He sat up, his hands moving to support her back. She met his gaze again but he looked away, his eyes dropping to her chest. One hand held her, splayed between her shoulder blades. His other came around, fingers caressing the three long scars down her chest. They had healed well but were still dark pink. The longer he stared at them, the more fear and worry she felt in him. Her hand came up to catch his, holding it, hoping to reassure him that she was fine now. He'd saved her that night.
When he looked into her eyes, she saw the same vulnerability in them as she had the night she'd realised he was afraid of dying. How could such a powerful man look so weak and childlike? It spoke to her heart, telling her to comfort him and reassure him with a kiss.
Her eyes closed and she leaned towards him. Her lips claimed his, playing against them in a slow sensual dance that made his feelings change. Desire replaced his fear. She'd chased away his thoughts just as he'd chased away hers.
Kissing him, she slid her hands downwards and caught the hem of his black t-shirt. She wanted to feel him again, just as she had that day in her apartment. Her fingers trailed over his stomach, exploring soft skin and hard compact muscles. He broke the kiss and leaned back, releasing her. His hands splayed out behind him for support. Her tongue swept along her lips and she focused on her hands, delighting in the slow reveal of his body as she pushed his t-shirt up. His muscles tensed and she bit her lip as a throb went through her straight to her groin. She wanted him.
When she couldn't push his t-shirt up any further, he sat up and removed it, discarding it in the direction of her top. He leaned back again, eyes full of fire and a seductive smile teasing his lips. Her gaze fell back to his body. Her fingers traced the shapes of his muscles, the hard peaks and sensitive areas. She could spend days doing this, feeling his cool skin and memorising his body.
She trailed her fingers over the scar down his side. Leaning over, she shuffled backwards and pressed kisses to it, from where it started beneath his arm on his left side, to where it ended beside his navel.
Reaching there, she continued her exploration, planting wet open-mouthed kisses around his navel and tasting his skin. Her fingers found his belt and made quick work of it. They moved to the top button of his jeans and she smiled when he flopped back onto the bed, his breath leaving him in a sigh.
She struggled to maintain a level heartbeat as she unbuttoned his jeans and began to kiss downwards. Sitting back a little when the last button gave way, she looked at his black boxers. She pulled the waistband down, revealing a nest of dark curly hair. He moaned when she pushed her fingers through it.
A warm pulse went through her crotch.
She wanted him naked, now.
Shuffling backwards, she brought both his underwear and jeans with her. She kept her eyes fixed below her so she didn't see any of him before she'd removed his boots and the rest of his clothing. She wanted to see him in all his glory.
His left foot came free of his clothes and she pushed them off the bed. Her stomach fluttered with nerves as her eyes raked back up his long legs. Her heart skipped a beat when she finally saw him laying naked in front of her, his eyes boring into hers.
Damn he was perfect.
She crawled up the length of him, her eyes lowering to his crotch. His length was hard, jutting out of the dark curls. She breathed a little faster, her heart running away with her. When she reached his erection, she glanced at him and then down at it. She ran a lone finger up it, from the root to the sensitive tip. It was hard but soft and silken. Her hand closed around the girth of it. He groaned and tensed. She sensed so much pleasure and desire in him.
She dipped her head towards him and flicked the head of his length with the tip of her tongue.
He growled now.
It wasn't a command this time. It was a show of pleasure and satisfaction.
She did it again, this time allowing her tongue to circle the head.
Before she could blink, she was on her back with him on top of her between her legs. He ground against her, his mouth fused with hers in a demanding hungry kiss. She sank into the bed, her arms either side of her head, submitting to him. He rubbed against her again and she raised her hips, wanting more than just the friction.
He moved off her and in a matter of seconds, she was naked. It didn't bother her now. She stretched out on the bed, her arms above her head, enticing him into coming to her. Her eyes followed him, watching him closely while her senses kept a tight lock on his feelings. He kissed up her legs, tickling her skin and teasing her until frustration began to coil in her stomach. She needed more.
She moaned and raised her hips again, hoping to lure him there. He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh and skimmed a hand over the hair covering her mound. She frowned when he didn't go there, instead kissing up past it and across her stomach. His knees parted hers, his body covering her once again. She ran her hands up his arms as he firmly planted them either side of her chest.
Her eyes met his.
She smiled and inclined her head to one side, lifting her hips at the same time. Her crotch brushed his length. His eyes rolled closed and his jaw tensed.
A gasp left her when he lowered his hips and ground against her. She threaded her fingers into his hair. His eyes opened.
What was he waiting for?
An invite?
She skimmed her right hand down his back to his buttocks, firm globes that made her ache inside. Everything about him oozed power and strength. Her hand brushed his hip and then came around beneath him, between them. She took hold of his hard length, caressing it until he moaned above her.
Her eyes held his.
There was such fierce hunger and darkness in them.
It didn't frighten her.
Nothing about him frightened her now.
She lured him down to her, guiding the head of his length towards her. It nudged against her and she removed her hand, cupping his backside with it instead. He inched in and she sighed up into his face when their bodies finally became one.
His lips claimed hers. Her eyes closed as she lost herself in his kiss and the feel of him filling her. He moved inside her, drawing half way out and then sliding in again, slow but hard. The fire inside her burned beyond her control, fanned by his panting breaths against her mouth and the way he thrust into her.
She felt so complete.
So did he.
Her arms wrapped around him as he leaned down on his elbows, his hands hooking over her shoulders. He moved against her, in her, each thrust taking her higher and higher, adding more and more to the intense need inside her. She wanted to burst, wanted to scream, wanted to hold him close and never let him go.
He whispered words into her ear in a rough harsh language she didn't understand but she felt every feeling behind them, every sweet tenderness and overwhelming amount of affection. She clung to him, her fingertips digging into his back as he brought her closer to the edge. Her breath became panted moans as the fire in her body made her feverish for his touch and for completion.
She uttered his name over and over, until it was a mantra falling from her lips in time with each of his thrusts into her body.
It was too much.
All the feelings she could sense, the quiet words in her ear and how close he held her was too much.
She closed her eyes, tensed and then moaned hoarsely as she climaxed.
He stayed with her, in her, moving slowly in and out, never changing his rhythm, a constant maddening pace. She peppered his cheek and neck with kisses, and then bit down on his throat as hard as she could and dug her nails into his flesh.
He roared into her ear, deafening her, and jerked hard up inside her. She wrapped her legs around him, her body throbbing in time with his. Her senses latched onto his feelings and she buried her face in his neck, holding him close and not letting him leave her.
One feeling among his stood out most and she knew he could sense the same in her.
Love.
Lilith's eyes fluttered open and Lincoln slowly came into focus. He was laying beside her in the bed, lost in a deep sleep. Her senses automatically reached out to him, searching for his feelings. He was content and peaceful. She felt that way too. Only a few days ago she would've felt panicked by the position she'd woke to find herself in. Now it felt oddly comfortable to be so close to him.
His arms were around her, holding her, but there was a gap between them. Their legs touched and tangled with each other. She looked at him, opened her eyes and really looked at him for once.
He was such a contrast to Mark.
Lincoln was the monster but he acted the man. He was proud, graceful and powerful, but didn't rely on that power to make his presence felt.
Mark was the man but acted the monster. He intimidated people and used his strength to frighten those below him. He was rough and dominating, always trying to control her.
Lincoln didn't.
The contrast between them was hard for her to swallow. All this time, she'd been with a monster. She might have still been with him if it hadn't been for the man lying next to her.
She pressed a kiss to his lips and hoped he wouldn't wake. She wasn't ready to face her feelings and she knew that she'd have to when he woke up. Her eyes scanned his face and then she leaned back to take it all in. She saw beyond the label she'd placed on him and her expectations of him as a vampire, and saw who he really was—a man, brave and scared, proud and humble, strong and weak. He was a world of contrasts, of impossibility. He felt so much for her and no matter how much it frightened her, she felt so much for him.
Her senses sharpened when he moved. His dark lashes lifted to reveal intense brown eyes, their pupils wide and filled with an awareness dampened by fatigue. It dissipated and his gaze fell to her, zeroing in on her eyes. She waited, suppressing her fear and wondering if he was going to shatter her fragile world that she'd fought so hard to rebuild.
He said nothing, just pulled her close to him and rolled onto his back so her head was resting on his chest. Relief filled her and she gave small thanks to the higher powers that he'd remained silent. He held her, one hand against the back of her head and the other resting in the small of her back. She slid her arm around him and lay there, not wanting to return to the world.
"The sun is down,” he whispered.
She curled up closer to him, screwing her face up into a look that reflected how much those words frightened her and how much she didn't want to leave his embrace. Let the world fall down around them. She just wanted to remain here with him like this.
His fingers lazily stroked her side, tickling her a little but teasing at the same time. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. She knew what he was thinking. It was time to go.
A shrill noise pierced the silence.
It made her jump and made Lincoln's arms around her tense. The ringtone continued, jarring in her ears and making her want to bury her face in Lincoln's neck and hide there. She remembered what had happened last night.
She pushed the covers off herself and left the comfort of Lincoln's embrace. The second she set foot on the dark red carpet, she realised that he was watching her and she knew why. She was naked. Maybe she should've taken the blanket with her and left him naked. He moved, his eyes burning her as they raked over her body.
Hurrying to find her phone, she cursed the heat that flushed her cheeks. She rummaged in her jeans to find her phone and frowned at the display when she pulled it out.
Daniel.
She looked at Lincoln.
He was frowning now and sitting up in bed. Clearly he'd felt the anxiety and fear that had washed through her.
She flicked the phone open.
"Hello?” she said.
"Lilith? Thank God you're alright."
She frowned. Did he really care about her? He'd hidden the truth from her after all. What kind of friend did that?
"I tried calling last night but couldn't get through. I thought something had happened to you!” There was genuine concern in his voice. She looked at the display and realised the signal was terrible. It was a miracle the call was coming through at all.
"I'm fine. We're both fine,” she said with a look at Lincoln. He left the bed and padded across the room towards her. It was a struggle to keep her eyes off his body.
"There was an attack—"
"I know,” she interjected. “We saw."
"I've heard from the compound. Everything is fine but we lost nearly two dozen hunters."
Regret filled her, bringing back all the pain she'd felt last night. “I'm sorry. I wanted to help but Lincoln wouldn't let me."
Lincoln frowned at her.
"It was the right thing to do. I managed to escape with several of the trainees when we were caught outside."
"What about the research team?” she said, staring at the floor now to avoid Lincoln's questioning eyes.
He moved past her.
"Safe. We're all heading to headquarters. Where are you? We'll pick you up en route."
"No.” She held the phone a little tighter, fear gripping her. The team would never understand if they knew about her. She needed to keep them on her side. Making them pick her up from a vampire nightclub wasn't going to do that. It wasn't just that stopping her. If they realised that vampires ran this club they'd probably come back another day to kill them all. She couldn't put the lives of those who had helped her at risk. It didn't matter that they weren't human. Not anymore. “We'll meet you there. I can get a car."
Silence.
"Daniel?” she said, voice shaking as she thought about what she was going to say. She needed to get it out into the open before she saw him again. Things had changed between them and he needed to know why. She couldn't rely on him anymore. He'd broken her trust.
"What's wrong?” he said.
She took a deep breath.
"I know my father is a vampire,” she whispered and closed her eyes against the pain it caused her heart to say these things. “I know you lied to me."
She closed the phone and held it against her chest, unsure of what to do now. The anger began to disappear when Lincoln stepped up behind her. He cleared the hair from her throat and kissed it. She stilled, letting him and telling herself that he wouldn't hurt her. He'd never bite her without permission. He inhaled and sighed against her skin. It tickled, thrilled her. She shut her eyes and savoured his closeness a moment before turning to face him.
Her eyes opened and she looked up into his.
"Where are we going?” There was worry in his gaze and she felt he might tell her to turn her back on Daniel and Section Seven. She knew in her heart that she couldn't, not until they'd discovered everything they could about the contract, and even then, she didn't know if she was strong enough to go through with it.
She took hold of his hand, her eyes still locked with his, hoping he'd understand and not try to make her do what he wanted her to. They needed the research team. She couldn't save him alone.
"London."
The journey to London passed in a silence heavy with meaning. It seemed neither of them were happy with having to go into the capital. Lincoln knew that Lilith's reason for wanting to stay away from London was Daniel. Her parting words on the phone had been a warning to her superior. She was no longer willing to play the part of an obedient hunter. She would stand on her own two feet now, following her heart and not Section Seven's orders. For him, it was the knowledge that here in this city was his bloodline's safe house, a place where his sire and lord would soon return. Mikael would know that he and Lilith would come to London. He would know where to come looking for him. His species had long documented the locations of all hunter bases within Europe.
Lilith was focused as she drove through the winding streets of the metropolis. Getting a car had been easy. A word with the men left in charge of ‘One’ was all it had taken. They had readily given the vehicle to him.
He stared out of the window, not caring where they were heading because it wasn't where he wanted to be. Going to the headquarters of Section Seven was something he never wanted to experience again. There he'd been met with more hatred than even Lilith had managed to show him. Only his money had kept him safe from harm.
Street after street passed, flashes of people and of bright window displays, a blur of human life. He longed to escape it all, to go back to the club and that little room where Lilith had been his for a while. His eyes slid across to her. He feared bringing her back to her comrades. He feared that she would change again and everything that had happened last night would be undone, leaving him with nothing more than a precious memory of how things could have been.
He sighed and looked out of the window again.
Lilith's gaze came to rest on him briefly. He sensed the concern in her and latched onto it, holding it deep in his heart and hoping that she wasn't going to turn her back on him.
The sound of the road gave way to the sound of the engine humming. Twin wrought iron gates creaked open and Lilith drove on, replacing the relative silence with the noise of gravel scrunching under the car tyres. He looked at the building looming in front of them, its dark facade promising nothing but trouble in his eyes. Few lights were on, punctuating the imposing front of the mansion and adding to the feeling of uncertainty growing inside him.
He glanced at Lilith again, wanting to tell her not to stop, to keep driving. They could get through this together. They didn't have to rely on these people. They weren't their people. They were born of stronger blood, of nobility. To ask these fiends for help was to submit to an inferior species and weaken themselves in the process.
The voice inside his heart reminded him that Lilith was a part of this world, that her blood bore this heritage as well as his own species'. He quietened his fear and told himself that nothing would happen to them here. Lilith still belonged to the hunters. Her words to Daniel had only been a warning. She hadn't broken ties with them completely. They wouldn't dare harm one of their own.
He wouldn't let them.
He was stronger than any here. Let them come with their weapons, hiding behind their belief. He would defeat them all before he allowed any to lay one hand on Lilith.
The car stopped. He stepped out before she could and moved around the car, opening the door for her. A small but nervous smile graced her lips when she stepped out and looked at him. His senses spoke of her fear. She looked up at the mansion and her eyes reflected that feeling. It would be hard for her to cross the threshold of this place, that much he knew, but he was here with her and she wouldn't be alone. It was hard for both of them.
They needed the knowledge of the research team and the books contained here.
They had to put aside their fears and know that they were stronger than any who might oppose them.
He closed the car door and stood beside her, the back of his hand brushing hers. Her fingertips caressed his palm and he was surprised when she held his hand. He went to move. She held him back. He looked over his shoulder at her, reading all her anxiety and anger in her eyes.
"I will not let them hurt you,” he whispered and stepped close to her, shielding her from the house and blocking her view. He caught her gaze and held it. “You made the right decision. We must get as much information as we can. If anything happens in this city, the hunters will know of it."
"I know,” she said in a voice strained with her feelings. “I don't know why I'm scared of them, not now ... not all of a sudden. I fear how they'll look at me, even though I know that none of them know what tainted blood flows in my veins ... what abilities sleep there."
He released her hand and looked down on her with a frown. Tainted?
Her hand caught his again and a flicker of apology entered her eyes. “I didn't mean it like that. This is all so confusing, Lincoln, can't you see that? I don't know what to think anymore."
He knew. He knew it all too well. He could see the pain it caused her to think about her past and how she came to be in this world. He could feel the hurt she felt whenever she thought about the things that had been done to her, what she was, and the way someone close had lied to her. He covered her hand with both of his, offering his support.
So much had happened to her this past week. He'd had centuries to come to terms with what had happened to him and the life he'd awoken to, and the moment he'd made peace with himself, his true purpose had been revealed. He had been turned because of the mark he bore and for the express purpose of fulfilling a contract with the Devil, and no other reason. He was nothing but a means to an end, a pawn in someone else's game. Asking her to come to terms with her true self in the space of a week, and to accept him as her mate, was asking too much.
"You haven't changed, Lilith. Not on the outside or the inside. You are still the same person I met and the same hunter they knew. The blood that lies inside you, your father's legacy, has always been there. You are no different now."
She sighed and looked down at the floor.
"But I feel different."
"Only because of the claim and your feelings. You were raised to be a good hunter, one of the best. It is understandable that you will have difficulties accepting your change of heart towards one who your upbringing dictates that you should despise. I understand. Overcoming beliefs that you'd held close to your heart and that had given you a purpose is not something easy to do. If you need time when all this is over, I can—"
Her finger against his lips silenced him. He looked down into her eyes, seeing all the pain reflected in them and sensing that it was all about him now. He'd trampled her feelings with his noble words.
"Just...” she said in a voice thick with unshed tears. They swam in her eyes. “Stay close."
She released his mouth and walked away. He stared at her back, his heart interpreting the double meaning behind those words. She wanted him to remain near him during their time at headquarters to protect her and she wanted him to stay close to her always. She didn't want him to leave her.
He didn't want to be apart from her either.
He followed her towards the house, striding to catch up with her so that by the time she'd reached the impressive columned porch, he was walking in step beside her.
She gave him one last glance before pushing the doors open and walking in.
He squinted against the brightness of the lights in the entrance hall. His eyes struggled to adjust but they did it quickly, his senses forced into sharpness by the feel of so many humans surrounding him. Lilith was close, stood inches from his side. He could feel the tension radiating off her. His eyes scanned the faces of those crowding the room, packed tight. He recognised some from Lilith's compound. The rest were new to him.
He didn't like the way they were staring.
It wasn't just at him.
They were staring at Lilith too.
He noticed her hand was on her forearm, holding it. She was hiding his marks. He went to move towards her. The crowd parted and someone came through.
Daniel.
The growl rose in his throat before he could stop it. Daniel hesitated. A low murmur set off amongst the gathered people. Lincoln scanned them quickly, assessing them all to check whether they were a danger to himself and Lilith. None were stronger than her but they did have weapons. He'd noticed several stakes amongst them and at least two carried crossbows.
"Lilith,” Daniel said and moved to greet her. Lincoln gave him a little credit for the act. It was impeccable. “We were so worried about you. You should have let us pick you up."
"There was no need,” Lilith said, her bright tone forced. It was amazing how disaffected she could appear while she was in such turmoil inside. “We're here now, aren't we?"
Daniel nodded and gestured for them to head through the crowd. Lincoln didn't like it. He caught Lilith's wrist and held it tight. She looked down at his hand and then back at Daniel.
Everyone was staring at her now.
"What's with the welcoming committee?” She stared at Daniel, her eyebrows raised into an innocent look. Lincoln felt the anger behind her words.
"The perimeter alarm was triggered and a vampire was detected. We didn't realise it was you."
Lincoln wondered if that was supposed to be comforting. They had detected a vampire and had all come down, no doubt to butcher it or at least watch someone else kill it. Would they goad the hunter on, cheering for it to murder the vampire? Would they relish the death and the blood?
He felt Lilith looking at him and blinked himself out of his dark thoughts. His gaze shifted to meet hers.
"Come, you must be tired. Quarters have been arranged for you both,” Daniel said.
"Lincoln stays with me,” she said, still looking into his eyes. “I won't risk someone getting a little trigger happy with a crossbow."
Lincoln snorted in contempt of the idea that anyone here could defeat him so easily.
"Of course. We ensured that your quarters were adjoining."
Lilith looked satisfied. Lincoln released her wrist and followed her towards the crowd. She stopped and motioned for him to pass. He realised that she was going to stay close behind him to watch his back. The idea that she wanted to protect him was touching.
When he saw who was walking towards him with a crossbow slung over his shoulder, his split-second of happiness was destroyed. He sneered at the man, straightening to his full height and narrowing his eyes.
Mark.
"If the client is here, then so must the hunter be,” Mark drawled.
Lincoln heard Lilith's heart kick into overdrive, thundering against her ribs. He slowed down until she was close behind him. She remained there a moment until her heartbeat was steady again and then stepped out.
"Mark,” she said with every ounce of anger Lincoln could feel in her.
"There she is.” Mark eyed her a little too closely, his gaze lingering too long on her body for Lincoln's liking.
He stepped forwards and the hunter's attention switched to him.
"Still defending her then?” Mark's pale blue eyes were like ice.
Lincoln growled.
"I'll take that as a yes,” he said and went to step past him. Lincoln's hand against his chest stopped him. Mark looked down at it, disgust curling his lip. Lincoln listened to his heart beating hard, whispering words of fear. He removed his hand and stepped into his path, making it clear that he wasn't going anywhere near Lilith.
"Still being a prick?” Lilith said in Mark's direction.
Lincoln looked down at her as she came up beside him, her hand covering his and holding it in a show of silent support.
"If you don't mind, we need to settle in, grab a shower, feed, that kind of thing."
Lincoln's eyebrow shot up. Did she know how that sounded? The black look in Mark's eyes and the triumph in her own told him that she did. She'd intentionally made it sound as though they were going to shower together and she was going to feed him. His insides flipped and spun at the thought of tasting her again, of drinking from her, and before he could control himself, he was looking at her neck. He growled, hungry for her blood and to be inside her again.
Her hand tightened around his.
It grounded him, calming his thoughts and chasing away his hunger.
"Lilith,” Daniel said with a frown. “Do excuse us, Mark."
Lilith passed him in silence. Lincoln held his ground and stared at the hunter. He didn't deserve Lilith's anger. He deserved death at his hands. He growled, exposing sharp teeth. Mark's eyes widened and he stepped back. Lincoln smiled, victorious. It was good to know that Mark was frightened of him. It would help keep the man in check and would make it easier to put him in his place if he stepped out of line.
He frowned when Lilith turned and walked back to them.
"Are you coming?” she said.
He looked at her and then at Mark. He noticed Lilith glance at Mark and felt the muddled feeling inside her. His frown intensified. He stared at her, studying her and trying to decipher what it was that she felt whenever she looked at Mark. There was anger there and hurt, but there were other emotions too, ones that Lincoln didn't like. Mark was human. If Lilith wanted to bolt, if she didn't feel strong enough to deal with her feelings for a vampire, then it would be Mark she'd run back to.
He didn't want that to happen.
Closing his eyes, he listened to the call of the night and the promises it made. It was still young. There was still time.
"I need to go out,” he said.
Lilith stepped around Mark and frowned at him. “Where?"
"You know where."
The fear in her eyes said that she did. He waited to see what her decision was going to be now that he'd offered her a chance to accompany him. Would she choose the danger of being with him over the safety of remaining here?
She stared deep into his eyes and stepped closer, until he could almost feel the warmth radiating off her body.
"I'm coming with you this time,” she said with such beautiful determination. “I am supposed to be protecting you after all."
He smiled down at her, pleased that she'd chosen him and the more dangerous path. He'd hoped she would. He looked at her dirty clothes and the bloodstain on her cheek where Verona had cut her. She looked tired. He couldn't drag her out straight away. He had to give her time to eat and wash. They could both use some food, a shower and a change of clothes. Besides, he'd risk Mikael returning to the safe house while he was there if it meant he could see Lilith naked again.
"We leave in half an hour."
Lincoln looked up at the townhouse. Lilith sat beside him in the driver's side of the car. His senses told him that she was as apprehensive about this as he was. He had to do it, regardless of the danger. There was a chance that the contract would be there and they needed it if they were going to learn anything about the pact.
"You're crazy,” Lilith whispered.
There was truth to those words. As he stared at the house and considered what he was going to do, crazy seemed to sum it up.
"It's dangerous."
That too.
"What exactly do you plan to do?” she said, her hand on his now, holding it. That touch demanded an answer.
"I am going to walk in through the front door.” He looked at her, letting her see in his eyes that he wasn't joking.
"You can't just walk in there!” Her voice rose an octave and her feelings rose with it. She wasn't just apprehensive anymore. She was frightened. “That's suicide. I won't let you do it."
"I will be fine. It is not suicide. Not the way I plan to do it.” He placed his other hand over her one holding his. “Mikael may not be back yet. This is my only chance to get the contract."
He glanced over at the house, his senses trying to detect whether there was anyone stronger than him in it. If Mikael had already returned, surely he would have felt it. He reminded himself that he hadn't felt it when he'd last been here and so had Mikael, but then he hadn't been looking.
"Stay here with my body,” he said.
"Your body?” Her fear became panic. “What do you mean?"
Her grip on him tightened. He focused on his power, calling it to his hand. He had to do this. It would be frightening for her to see what he was capable of, but he'd needed her here with him this time to protect his body while he was out of it. He knew that she was strong. She would do as he'd asked even if she didn't understand what was happening.
The pain inside him grew until it was an intense burning in the depths of his heart and it felt as though it was going to rip him asunder. He placed his hand against his chest, pushing through.
"Don't be scared,” he whispered and then slumped into darkness.
The world was as disorientating as ever on the other side. It took him a moment to understand what was happening and when he did, he realised that Lilith was panicking. She was patting his cheek, her words desperate and her feelings in disarray.
"Lincoln ... Lincoln ... Lincoln!” She held him close, tears staining her cheeks. He should've explained things to her. She would have understood. He was scaring her, hurting her when he'd promised not to.
Reaching out, he ghosted his fingers over her cheek, unable to touch her when he so desperately wanted to. She stilled and looked up at him, as though she could see him or at least feel him. He smiled at her, stroking her cheek and marvelling at the fact he could still feel her emotions. The claim linked their spirits. Even though his was no longer in his body, she could still sense it.
"Don't be scared,” he said.
She stared at him, right into his eyes. Could she see him or was it just her senses telling her where he was?
His fingers slipped from her cheek and he turned away, leaving the car and her behind. She would protect his body should anyone realise they were there. He had to focus on why he'd come here now and hurry.
He crossed the road and walked straight through the door into the house. It was quiet. He looked around, hoping to spot some people whose conversation he could listen in on for information. There was no one. An ominous feeling settled in his stomach but he dismissed it. There was any number of reasons why people weren't around. They were probably out hunting.
He mounted the stairs, listening hard and hoping to find someone up there. Reaching the landing, he walked along and stopped at each door. Voices. He walked through the door and into a large reception room. A group of vampires were sitting around the fire talking. Two women and three men. He moved towards them, eavesdropping all the while.
They spoke of mundane things and then a bell on the wall rang. One of the women muttered that it was time to go back to work. Clearly, they were low-ranking. Probably servants. One of the men mentioned Mikael. He was returning tonight.
Lincoln left them and hurried up to the top floor. He began searching the rooms from that floor downwards, looking for the contract or at least a clue that would tell him its whereabouts. A library was the fourth room he checked. Dark bookcases lined the walls, heavy with books and mysterious objects. On the antique desk near the window was a large tome.
On that was a piece of parchment.
He went to it and around the desk. His eyes scanned the paper. It was unmistakable. He'd found it.
He closed his eyes and focused, ignoring the voice at the back of his head that reminded him how painful it had been to do this before and told him that he was going to frighten Lilith even more. It was his only option. He couldn't touch the contract or anything without his body. The number of vampires in the house was minimal and nothing he couldn't handle. He needed his body.
The pain started deep inside him, rising to the surface and growing as it did so. It burned fierce and hot, turning the world pale as it blinded him. He held on, struggling against the tiredness that began to encroach and ignoring the whispered words inside his head telling him to give up, it was too hard. He frowned and focused harder, putting all his energy into calling his body to him.
His feet felt like lead. They turned cold and hard, anchoring him to this world. His hands followed, becoming tangible and solid once more. He screwed his face up, using all of his will and his power to command his body return. His legs became heavy, forcing him to his knees. His shoulders and arms burned and then froze. His senses dulled and his whole body ached.
He collapsed forwards, pressing his hands into the plush dark carpet and breathing hard in an effort to adjust. His fingers curled. The threads of the carpet felt soft beneath them. Sitting back, he sighed out his breath, putting an end to it. He checked himself over to make sure he was all there and then used the desk to pull himself to his feet.
His head spun.
He closed his eyes and waited for the sickness and pain to pass. It was bad enough taking his spirit out of his body. Calling his body to him made him feel as though his insides were being torn to shreds.
Pulling the book towards him, he looked at the parchment resting on one page of it and then at the opposite page. It was about the contract. It was coming with him.
He closed the book, trapping the contract between its pages, and tucked it under his arm before heading stealthily to the door and out into the hall. He listened for any sign of the vampires he'd seen earlier. They were below. Their voices drifted up to him. He looked around him and his eyes settled on a window at the top of the stairs.
Looking out of it, he saw it was a clear drop to the small garden below. The only danger was hitting the black spiked railings that surrounded it. He'd rather take his chances with those than walking through the house.
He opened the sash window and looked both ways up the street. Nothing. Over the road, he could see Lilith sitting in the car, motionless. The dull throbbing pain inside him made it impossible to sense her feelings. If her posture was anything to go by, she was shocked.
He climbed through the window and dropped the three floors to the ground, landing with ease on his feet. He stayed down a moment to make sure no one had noticed him and then ran across the road to the car and got in.
Lilith was as pale as a sheet, staring at him with wide glassy eyes.
"I found it,” he said.
No response.
He reached across and touched her cheek. It was cold. She gave him a look that said she wasn't quite sure if he was there or not.
"Are you all right?"
She blinked. “Lincoln? What's going on?"
He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips. She didn't respond at first and then her mouth moved the slightest amount against his. When he pulled back, he saw there were tears in her eyes again. Now that she was close, he could sense her. She was so confused. He really should have warned her.
"I will explain later,” he said and opened the book to reveal the parchment.
"Is that it?” she whispered and stared at it.
He nodded and touched it. The lettering flashed bright red and then faded. The ground shook. This wasn't good.
"What did you do?” she gasped, wide eyed as she looked at him.
"Nothing,” he said and touched the paper again. “I only touched it like this."
The ground vibrated again, shaking the car.
"Stop touching it!” she snatched the book. The ground shook again. He gave her a look that said ‘see’ and took it back off her.
"I told you I did not do anything.” He looked at the parchment. It looked as it had done in the library. It couldn't be coincidence that he'd touched it and the lettering had flashed. It had responded to him. The earth trembled. It seemed to have responded violently.
"Can you drive?” he said, worried about how shaken she was.
She nodded and looked past him towards the house. “I think we should get out of here."
A car had pulled up. He knew who was in that car.
He slid down into the seat and Lilith pulled the car out into the road, her speed slow enough that they would avoid attracting the attention of Mikael. Nerves were radiating off her and he could sense her tension. Mikael frightened her.
Pushing himself up in the seat, he looked back in the direction of Mikael. It wasn't just Lilith that Mikael frightened. He feared him too. He feared what would happen when everything played out as fate intended. Could Lilith really save him?
His faith wavered whenever he felt how scared she was of Mikael.
The Three had told him that Lilith would save him. His heart said that he had to believe it would happen or fate would turn against him. He had to have faith in her. His life depended on it.
He stared at the book on his lap and the parchment resting on it. Maybe if they discovered more about the contract, they would discover a way to break it. If it were broken then the Devil wouldn't be coming after him. If Mikael still pursued him then they could fight him together. Together they would be stronger than his sire.
"We need to gather the team,” Lilith said, the sweet determined tone of her voice soothing the disquiet in his mind. They could defeat Mikael.
They would defeat Mikael.
He closed the book and glanced across at her.
"I took pictures of the markings Mikael made on your body. The research team will know what they mean. Now that we have the contract, we can find out what its true purpose is."
She'd changed. The frightened girl had submitted to the iron will of the hunter. She was confident again, commanding. She knew what had to be done, just as he did.
"Then we head back and gather the team. This book mentions the contract. Maybe it will tell us how to break it."
The car skidded to a halt, sending him shooting forwards on his seat. He braced himself, one hand clutching the book while the other slammed into the plastic dashboard.
"Give me it,” she said, taking the book off him before she'd even finished her sentence.
She opened it, took out the contract and held it in both of her hands. His eyes widened when she tried to tear it in two and nothing happened. She growled with effort, her face scrunching up as she gripped the parchment harder and struggled to rip it.
She breathed hard and let the paper fall from her hands and onto the book again.
"It was worth a try,” she muttered and handed it back to him.
He stared at it. “It was, but ripping a contract up doesn't nullify it."
"It doesn't?” She looked surprised.
He smiled at her, amused by her ignorance of such matters. “It doesn't. There may be a clause or a loophole or something we can use to break it though."
"Are you a lawyer now?” She started driving again. Her sarcasm wasn't lost on him.
"No, but I have had four centuries of experience in all kinds of matters. I am sure I can understand a simple contract. If there is a loophole, which I doubt since it was created by the Devil himself, then I will find it."
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and he felt the apology in her. She hadn't meant to sound the way she had.
"You need rest,” he said, showing her that he understood she didn't mean it and reassuring her that he wasn't angry with her. “We both do. It has been a hard few days."
"We need to research.” There was an air of defeat in her voice. She didn't want to research and neither did he. He'd rather be out killing things or doing something that made him feel they were making progress. The ground trembled again, quieter this time, distant as though the tremors were subsiding. “We need to find out what's happening."
The gates to Section Seven headquarters opened in front of them and she drove up to the house. The tyres skidded on the gravel when she slammed the breaks on, narrowly avoiding hitting a group of hunters that were rushing out of the building.
She was out of the car before he could say something was wrong.
"What's happening?” she said to the nearest hunter.
The woman just ran straight past her, heading for a waiting van.
Lilith looked at him. He shrugged and then nodded towards the door when Daniel and Mark appeared.
He hurried with her to meet them.
"Highgate cemetery. All reports confirm a Class S demon. We'll send you data as soon as we have it,” Daniel said to Mark.
"I'm going with you,” Lilith said.
Mark gave her a cold look.
"What about the living dead? Gonna leave him here alone?"
She scowled at Mark. Lincoln didn't say a word. It was her choice. The surfacing confusion in her eyes said that she'd realised that it was crunch time. She looked from him to Mark and back again. He could sense the frustration in her.
He stepped backwards, distancing himself.
She stepped with him.
"We can both help,” she said to Mark.
Mark's look became even sourer. He stared at Lincoln. “I don't think so. We've been handling demons without your help for all this time ... I'm fairly certain we'll be just fine and dandy."
"Mark, don't be an idiot. A Class S—"
"Stay here. You and your vampire can babysit the kiddies,” he said, cutting her off and walking away before she could respond.
Lincoln watched Mark leave in the van and then looked at Lilith. She had her hands on her hips, her glare directed at the gates. He didn't need to be able to sense her feelings to know that she was pissed off.
"This isn't our territory, Lilith. You must remember that.” Daniel moved towards her.
She backed off. “There's a lot that I remember, Daniel. Why didn't you just tell me all those times that I came to you? Why did you have to lie?"
Daniel's gaze fell to the floor and he sighed.
Lincoln kept close tabs on Lilith's feelings, ready to step in if she needed him. She was tired and hungry. The food she'd had back at the club and tonight wasn't enough to replenish the energy she'd lost while watching over him. It wasn't helping matters. She was tense because of it and the things that had happened. It was causing her to lose her temper quicker than before.
"You lied to me,” she whispered.
Lincoln stepped forwards, coming up behind her to support her and lend her strength. A confrontation wasn't what she needed right now, but it seemed to be the time she'd chosen for it. He supposed that getting it out of her system would help her move on and sharpen her focus.
"I was trying to protect you,” Daniel said and looked at her. Lincoln could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth. He just didn't know if Lilith would see it.
"I trusted you, Daniel. I told you everything. You knew my gift scared me. You could have just told me why I had it. I know that it doesn't change who I am. I'm still me.” Her voice cracked and Lincoln placed his hand on her shoulder to comfort her. He could feel the rising hurt inside her and the tears pushing to get free. “So I have vampire DNA because of my mother's wish to bear the children of the man she loved. It doesn't mean I'm a monster or that I wouldn't have continued with being a hunter. I still believe that the balance has to be maintained, but that belief has been shaken by your lies. How am I supposed to trust an establishment that hid the truth about me and my sister from me all these years?"
"I'm sorry.” Daniel ran a hand over his face and looked up at her through his lashes. “I only wanted to keep you safe from harm. I knew that it would hurt you to realise where your abilities came from. I had no intention to keep lying to you. At first, I did it because you were young and fragile, not strong enough to understand about your true self. I couldn't stop after that, not even when Eve was turned. I raised you both ... like daughters. I wanted to protect you."
Lilith stepped back towards Lincoln. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her and silently reassuring her. Her feelings had changed abruptly. All anger was gone, replaced with sadness and regret.
"Can we talk about this?” Daniel said with hope in his voice.
She shook her head. “Not right now. I'm still so confused ... and tired. I'm so tired. It can wait. I hate to say this ... I understand why you did it, why you lied to me, but I don't think I'm ready to forgive you for it. You were wrong to continue lying to me. You should have told me regardless of how much pain it would cause me. That would have been the right thing to do."
She slipped free of Lincoln's grasp and walked into the house.
Lincoln looked at Daniel.
"She's lost to me, isn't she?” Daniel looked at him as though he held the answers now.
"Not necessarily. You hurt her. I hurt her too. I do not know which of us is worse. You for lying to protect her or me for telling her the truth to spite her."
He turned and walked towards the house, pausing at the door.
"Daniel,” he said without looking back at him. “This is not easy for me to say, not after what happened, but ... if something should happen ... to me, until she makes a decision about her father and sister, I am relying on you to keep her safe."
"I will. You have my promise."
He walked inside, his heart full of hope that fate wouldn't take him away from her.
Lincoln stared at the piece of parchment. So far he'd not let anyone near it. The research team didn't like that but he wasn't about to pander to their wants. He was in command here. It was better they did the book work and found out what they could about the history of the contract and what would happen to him. He could feel Lilith watching him. She would read her book for a while, flick a few pages, and then her eyes would come back to him.
He liked the feeling of her eyes on him, as though she couldn't help looking at him.
The words on the page swam in front of his eyes as raw hunger burned in the depths of his stomach. It was only so long that he could ignore his need for blood. Recovering from the injuries that Mikael had given him had used all of the strength he'd gained from the woman he'd drained. Lilith's blood was strong but the tiny amount he'd had wasn't enough to sustain him.
"Something wrong?” Lilith said and he realised she was beside him. He looked up into her eyes to see concern in them. She'd sensed his hunger.
"I could use something to eat,” he said as quietly as possible.
The rustling of books stopped and he felt everyone staring at him.
He looked at them each in turn. The moment his gaze fell on them, they busied themselves with their books, acting as though they'd not heard what he'd said. Wise people. Ignore the vampire with a craving for blood and he just might not eat you.
"I'll see what I can do later. Are you alright for now?” She looked hopeful.
He smiled. He wasn't about to go feral and butcher her friends. He'd promised he wouldn't harm anyone from her compound. A pleasant thought flitted across his mind. He hadn't promised not to kill anyone from this compound. Killing men wasn't his style but one wrong word from Mark and he'd drain him dry.
"I am sure I will be fine,” he said at last and she gave him a brief flash of a smile before walking off, her attention back with her book.
His eyes fell to the contract and he read it again. His Latin was a little rusty but he could understand the majority of it.
It was a contract between Mikael, named as the demonic immortal, and the Devil. On facing death, the demonic immortal proclaimed allegiance to the Devil and offered to enter into the contract with him and be bound by its terms. The Devil declared that the demonic immortal would be offered one thousand years of protection for one day on Earth.
He frowned. One day on earth in exchange for one thousand years of protection from death. For so great a sounding exchange, it must have been incredibly difficult to achieve what was necessary to get the Devil onto Earth for one day.
He'd seen the Devil. He'd looked right into his eyes. The Devil was chained to the pit of Hell, held by bonds that looked impossible to break.
Lincoln frowned. That was where he came in wasn't it.
He read on, lost in the words and trying to form an understanding of the contract.
The demonic immortal had to supply the male child marked by both the Devil and God.
He looked at the palm of his hand and the cross there.
Him.
Marked by the Devil and God.
He had to make the marked child immortal to awaken his dormant power to transcend boundaries.
Transcend boundaries? He could force his soul from his body, leaving an empty shell behind. He had managed to walk through Hell by doing so.
"A great eclipse?"
He held the contract against his chest and frowned at Lilith as she looked over his shoulder. She gave him an apologetic smile and walked off. He knew she was curious about the contract, they all were, but he wanted to be first to read and understand it. It was his life on the line after all.
His eyes scanned the parchment until he saw the eclipse mentioned. A great eclipse when the balance of power on Earth will be changeable.
The child of violence would return to the violence where he belonged. His soul will be the equivalent exchange for one thousand years of life, starting from the moment the Devil entered the child.
He was worth a thousand years of promised life. It was little wonder that Mikael had entered into it. A thousand years and all he had to do to get it was find a marked child and turn them. He would have a thousand years to fulfil the contract.
Putting the contract down, he pulled the tome he'd taken from the safe house towards him. He flicked through it to the page that it had been open on. It mentioned the Spiritus Diabolus—the Devil's Spirit. His spirit.
Reading the page, it all started to make more sense. The Devil had promised one thousand years of life to a dying man. Mikael had clearly been going to Hell and had begged for his life. The Devil had given it in exchange for another's—the marked child's. Mikael had been lord of Vehemens for over two millennia. Had he exchanged the life of someone before now? Some of the parchments that mentioned it predated the medieval period. He was the second life that Mikael had offered up to the Devil.
He stopped reading when he came across something that made his blood turn to ice. The Devil had a reason for wanting to come to Earth and only needing one day to do it. He was looking for a mate, someone to bear his child—the antichrist. That child would be born on Earth, free to roam and rule. The Devil would remain locked in Hell, but the antichrist would have the power to take over the world in his place.
The female he was looking for was of impure blood and marked with a sign. Since there was no antichrist, Lincoln presumed that last time the Devil had failed to find her. Whoever she was, she was in grave danger should he fail to keep himself safe.
He read on. The woman was marked with a sign of the eclipse.
His head shot up and he looked at Lilith. She was walking away from him, her blonde hair tied into a neat ponytail and the small black camisole top she was wearing revealing her back.
He stared at the tattoo.
A moon inside a sun.
An eclipse.
"I think we need a break,” she said and he jumped, startled by the way she'd suddenly turned to face him. She frowned at him. She'd noticed.
The four researchers left the room but Lilith's frown didn't shift.
"Is something wrong?"
He looked at the book and then at her. If he didn't tell her, he'd be as bad as Daniel. No. There was a difference between not telling her and lying to her. He didn't want to frighten her unnecessarily. He had no intention of leaving her and letting the Devil have him. She would be safe. He would make sure of it.
Besides, the Devil didn't know who she was. The chance of him finding her should he fail was slim at best.
She sat down beside him and leaned on the table, stretching out and yawning. He could feel the night wearing on. Soon the dawn would approach. They would need to sleep. Would she sleep with him or leave him alone once more?
"What happened back at the car?” she said.
He was surprised it had taken her so long to mention it.
"I have a gift. Some vampires have dormant powers that awake during the turning. For many it's the ability to alter perception or read people's minds. For me it is the ability to force my soul from my body."
"You can leave your body. I sensed you."
"I know,” he said and brushed his fingers across her cheek. She looked tired. There was sleepiness written in her eyes. “It must be the claim. It connects our souls."
"Vampires have souls?” she said and stifled another yawn.
He smiled. “Of course we do, in a manner of speaking. Not an actual soul. It's more of a spirit. Our soul has already been sent to Hell ahead of us."
"Not a soul then.” She frowned.
"A soul of sorts.” He knew it sounded confusing. He didn't have a true soul, not in the way she knew it. He had no mortal conscience to hold him back. He was going to Hell and that was where his soul awaited him. The Devil had taken it the moment he had become a vampire.
"Whatever you have ... it can be removed from your body."
He nodded. “Which is why the Devil wants me."
He held the contract up for her to see. She stared at it and then at him.
"Mikael made a bargain with the Devil. He would receive one thousand years of life if he could grant the Devil one day on Earth."
"How?"
"In me,” he said and her eyes widened until he could see white all around her dark irises.
"No..."
"Yes, Lilith. The Devil is chained to Hell. The only way he could leave was in another's body. He can force my spirit out of me and inhabit my body."
"What will happen to you?"
"Once another's spirit is in my body? I don't know. The contract states death."
She sat up and grabbed his hand. “I won't let it happen. I won't."
"I should have remained oblivious,” he said, his fingers closing around hers.
"What do you mean?"
"I told you once that I'd seen the Devil and looked into his eyes. You never asked me how."
She leaned forwards, towards him. “I'm asking now."
"I was curious and wanted to see what awaited me. I went to Hell, sent my spirit there, and came face to face with the Devil. He looked at me and I at him, right into his eyes. I saw my future there, eternal torment at his hands, burning in the fires of Hell for all my sins. The violent return to violence."
"Return to violence?"
"Dante's inferno. The seventh circle of Hell is where I belong. My sin is violence."
She opened her mouth to speak. The door opened and the four researchers entered. She hesitated and then looked at them.
Lincoln kept his eyes on her.
He didn't need to see the humans to know where they were. His senses told him everything. The woman sat down next to Lilith and the three men took their seats opposite. He looked at them. They seemed smart enough and had the look of a typical librarian—poorly dressed with little care about their appearance. He wasn't pigeonholing them, it was just the truth. Librarians seemed to be a specific type of person. They looked down at their books, murmuring amongst themselves. Had they found anything?
No one had mentioned any findings yet. Perhaps they were waiting for someone to ask. He didn't know how the humans worked. Vampire researchers were different. They still appeared bookish, but were overeager to tell anyone about what they'd discovered. He'd suffered countless meetings with them listening to their findings. What had excited them had bored him to death.
Lilith took the contract and the book from him and read them both. She looked at him when she'd finished, right into his eyes, and he wondered if the curiosity she was directing at him was because of the mention of the marked woman.
She looked away and then stood. He could sense her change in feelings as she stretched. He didn't know what to say. If he mentioned the marked woman and she hadn't been looking at him because of it, he would worry her unnecessarily. If he didn't mention it, she would presume that either he was hiding it from her or he hadn't noticed it.
His eyes followed her progress across the room. She stopped at the curtains. He frowned and reached out with his senses. The call of the night was fading. Dawn was coming.
She slipped behind the tall curtains.
A moment later, she threw them open and gave the room a startled look.
"I think you might want to see this."
He was immediately on his feet along with the rest and hurried to the window, cautious not to step into the light. Lilith's breathing was frantic, her heart beating faster than he'd ever heard it.
"What is it?” he said and looked out at the world. His question suddenly seemed redundant.
The sun wasn't there.
In its place was a glowing white ring and a pitch black sky.
"I'm guessing that means the great eclipse has started?” she said and he felt her eyes on him as he stared at the shimmering halo.
This wasn't good. He'd thought he'd have more time than this. He needed more time. They didn't know how to stop it yet or what was going to happen. Mikael had marked him. What did those marks mean? Did Mikael need to find him anymore?
He turned to face Lilith, his eyes darting between hers.
"We need to find out what's going on,” she said and grabbed his hand, dragging him back to the books. “Everyone, now, move it!"
The team rushed back and began flicking the pages again. Their speed did nothing to allay his fears. He grabbed the book he'd stolen from the safe house and took it with him as he paced the room. He couldn't sit still, not now. He'd wasted so much time. All those nights they could have been researching and he'd been too busy trying to make Lilith love him.
What point was there to love if he wasn't around to share it with her?
He read the page about the Spiritus Diabolus. There wasn't any new information on it. Something had to mention the marks.
"Marks!” he shouted across at Lilith. She jumped in her seat and turned sharply to look at him. “You took pictures of the marks Mikael drew on my body. I need to know what they mean. Now!"
She nodded and motioned for the team to get working on it. He paced back along the length of the room, feeling the need to breathe slowly in some effort to calm himself. Who knew how long the eclipse would last? If it was the same one Prophecy was involved in, then it could be days. He looked at the window, wondering where the young Caelestis female was now. The changeable balance in power mentioned in the contract was definitely because of what was happening with the prophecy. The Devil was using this eclipse to his advantage. There had to be something different about it.
"Someone look up eclipses. See if there has ever been one that has lasted longer than a few minutes.” He had a hunch about why the Devil had been unsuccessful in finding the marked woman.
There couldn't have been an eclipse of this magnitude before or he would've heard of it. It would be a historical event recorded for all to know of. Perhaps the contract was timed to coincide with an eclipse that had the potential to be the chosen one, when everything was closest to the necessary alignment of the earth, moon and sun.
The required shift in balance on Earth wouldn't happen without the great eclipse. It was specifically mentioned as the time that the balance would be changeable. Maybe during a normal eclipse the Devil couldn't successfully leave Hell, not even in an immortal vessel.
"Got something on the markings,” one of the men said.
Lilith was straight there and Lincoln was hot on her heels. He grabbed the book from the man and read the page.
"Runic markings of the Devil signify one chosen by Hell to return to Hell. The markings create a bond by which the one chosen can be discovered on Earth by the guardians."
"Guardians?” Lilith said.
"I am getting there,” he snapped and then gave Lilith an apologetic look. “The guardians of Hell can only be released once the gatekeeper has been freed of his duties."
"Is there anymore?"
He shook his head.
It didn't explain anything. Growling, Lincoln threw the book across the room. It dented the wall and dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. He stormed to the window and roared at the eclipsed sun.
Behind him, five heartbeats exploded into a discordant melody.
He clenched his fists and growled again, staring at the silver ring the whole time.
The markings were to give the guardians of Hell a bearing, a direction, in which to find him.
They were like a neon sign above his head, five miles high and flashing to catch the attention of those searching for him. Mikael had probably wanted to capture him again to ensure he got his reward from the Devil when he handed him over.
He closed his eyes when Lilith's hand came to rest on his shoulder and she moved around him. Her touch was comforting and he wanted nothing more than to bury his face in her neck and pretend this would all go away if he stayed there.
Instead, he looked at her, not hiding any of the pain inside him or the fear. He wanted her to see it. He needed her to.
She stepped close to him and caught his cheek with her palm, her touch light and tender. She lured him down towards her with it and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He knew what it meant. She loved him and she wasn't going to give up on him.
He wasn't going to give up either.
There had to be a way to stop this, not just to save himself but to protect her. The stakes had been raised. If the guardians took him to Hell, Lilith would be in danger.
He couldn't let anything happen to her.
"No sign of any eclipse like this before,” the woman said behind them, her voice trembling the slightest amount. She probably feared disturbing them.
He looked at her, showing gratitude in his eyes.
"What does it mean?” Lilith said.
"This is the one. This time the Devil will leave Hell."
"And he'll come looking for me.” There was pain in her voice. The bitter sarcasm did nothing to hide it.
"I will not let that happen.” He slid his hand into hers, holding it. Her fear abated and she raised his hand up, looking at it. “I will fight this or I will die trying."
"No."
"I must. If I cannot find a way to stop it from happening, then I must die to prevent it. I will not let him have you. I will fight to the last."
She surprised him when she moved forwards and wrapped her arms around him, hiding her face against his chest. He hesitated a moment, aware of the research team watching them, and then wrapped his arms around her, offering her all the comfort he could. He didn't want it to end in death for him, but if he failed, it was what he had to do. The Devil would kill him the moment he took over his body. It was better to die before then and stop the Devil from coming to Earth.
Lilith looked up at him, her dark lashes wet with tears. “I won't let him have you. There has to be a way to break the contract."
"Perhaps there is. There may still be time to look for it. The ancient prophecy that is causing the eclipse states that it will last several days."
"Ancient prophecy?"
"Yes, a young half blood vampire of the Caelestis bloodline is fighting a war. Many believe she will destroy us all, vampires and humans included, by bringing Hell to Earth. There are those, like myself, who believe she is destined to save us."
"The changeable balance of power is because of this war, isn't it?"
He nodded. “The Devil has probably planned this for thousands of years and now it is finally coming to pass."
Lilith turned to the team and he sensed the rise in her confidence again.
"Calculate the days between the end of the last significant total solar eclipse around one thousand years ago and the start of this one. Make sure you take into account any change in the calendar over the centuries. We need an accurate time."
"What is it?” he said.
She smiled.
"I think I might have found our loophole."
Lilith stabbed another piece of bacon with her fork.
She looked at Lincoln. He was staring at her, seemingly oblivious to the glares of the hunters surrounding him in the cafeteria. He seemed oblivious to anything but her sometimes. It was probably a good thing considering he was hungry.
In a strange way, she could sense it in him, like a thread running through his feelings, affecting them.
She'd asked Daniel if they could arrange for several blood packs to be sent to Lincoln's room. All it had taken to make him comply was her mentioning that it was either blood packs or Lincoln killed someone.
When they'd finished with the research team for the day, she'd wanted to go straight to their room but she'd been so hungry that she'd had to get some breakfast. While she'd been loading her plate with every last scrap of eggs, bacon, sausages and hash browns, one of the superiors had announced that there was going to be a meeting to discuss the eclipse.
Lincoln had made the decision for her not to attend an easy one. He'd growled at the superior who had tried to order her to go with them. Everyone had left them alone after that. They'd had the cafeteria to themselves for almost thirty minutes before the researchers and some of the younger hunters returned. Clearly they weren't high level enough to be involved in the rest of the conversation, whatever that was.
She didn't care.
All she cared about was getting this food into her stomach.
She gobbled a forkful of eggs and sausage.
A bit of egg fell from her mouth back onto her plate. Lincoln's eyebrow rose.
"I'm hungry,” she groused. His disgusted look didn't shift. “Yeah, because you never spill a drop when you feed."
He shrugged. “Touché."
The cafeteria doors opened and a group of men walked in. She recognised some as belonging to Mark's company. It had been hours since they'd gone out on the hunt and there hadn't been any news yet. The men looked pale and tired. Blood plastered their clothes. She looked at Lincoln.
He shook his head. She didn't think it looked good either.
Pushing her plate aside, she stood. She waited for Lincoln to stand and then walked across to the men. Everyone was crowding around them now. She pushed her way through the people and looked for one she recognised.
"What happened?” she said.
The man looked at the rest of the group and then back at her. “What does it look like happened?"
"We couldn't see it ... we didn't stand a chance!” A young brown haired man broke down, falling to his knees and holding himself as he rocked back and forth.
She looked at the man she'd singled out.
"We lost half the company,” he said in a grave tone. “We couldn't see what attacked us."
Her gaze shifted to Lincoln. He could become invisible. Maybe someone else could too.
"I cannot touch things,” he said in answer to her silent question.
She remembered that he'd had to call his body to him in order to steal the book. Whatever had attacked the men could become invisible and still retain the ability to touch people and hurt them.
"Aleaeries ... can they become invisible?"
Everyone was looking at her now. She ignored them. So they hadn't heard of an Aleaeries. Neither had she until recently. There were a lot of things out there that Section Seven didn't know about. Like guardians of Hell and the social structure of the pure bloodlines. The longer she knew Lincoln, the more she realised that Section Seven knew practically nothing about the pure bloods.
"No, and I do not know a demon that can,” he said.
The door opened again and Mark walked in. He looked as tired and bedraggled as the rest of the men. He pushed his way through the crowd and slung his arm around the man she'd been talking with.
"How're you holding up?” he said with concern in his eyes.
"Just fine. David needs a medic though. He's not listening to me."
Mark looked at another man. She did too. The man she'd been talking to was right. The stocky dark haired man that was quite obviously David did need a medic. His arm was bleeding badly and looked as though something had mauled it.
"Mark, what's going on?” she said and stepped towards him, conscious of Lincoln's eyes on her. She didn't want to upset him by talking to her ex-boyfriend, but she needed answers. Something had attacked these men and done a real number on them. Whatever it was, it was strong and it was dangerous. “What is this demon?"
Mark turned to face her and sighed. “I don't have a bloody clue. We can't see it, I know that much. It's damn vicious. It butchered three of my men in front of me. It made mincemeat of them, Lil. I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it."
There was hurt in his eyes and his voice. Failing his men pained him. She knew how that felt. It tore her apart inside whenever she thought about Jackson.
"Where is it now?"
"Still in Highgate. It showed no sign of leaving the grounds, not even when we retreated to outside the walls. We've cordoned off the area for now and are doing a perimeter sweep while the research team take a look at the readings."
It was staying in one locality. That was unusual behaviour for a demon. There had to be a reason it was there or why it couldn't leave.
"I tell you one thing ... whatever it is, it's strong and fast, and it's big ... and you can make it bleed."
"It bleeds?"
"Craig got it with a crossbow bolt. We only know he hit it because the bolt was floating in mid air and bleeding ... and I'm not talking this high.” He gestured six foot with his hand and then raised it until he couldn't stretch any higher. “I'm talking this high."
She swallowed and looked up at his hand. Nothing could be that tall. It would be the size of an elephant or bigger.
"So we can hurt it if we can see it, right?” she said and thought hard about what they could do.
"There's one more thing."
"Yes?” She moved closer to Mark and felt Lincoln move with her.
"We found a few victims when we arrived on the scene. Hunters from another organisation,” Mark said. “They'd been mauled. They were covered in huge puncture wounds and drained of blood. It looked like some giant werewolf had attacked—"
Lincoln grabbed her arm and Mark fell silent, staring at him.
She looked at Lincoln, wondering what was panicking him so much. His grip on her arm was too tight. It hurt. She only had to use her senses the barest amount to feel his fear.
His eyes were wide and dark as he looked down at her.
"What's wrong?” she said and put her hand over his, hoping he'd loosen his grip before he bruised her.
His hand left her and he shoved his way through the crowd.
"Lincoln!” She went after him. Mark followed close behind her. “What's wrong?"
Lincoln stopped in the doorway and she almost bumped into him. She moved around him, ducking under his outstretched arm that held the door open, and came to stand in front of him.
"What is it?” Her heart beat so fast it threatened to break through her chest. She'd never sensed him so panicked before.
He stared into the distance over her head.
"Cerberus,” he whispered.
Her blood ran cold.
Cerberus. As in, the three headed dog that guarded the gates of Hell?
Her stomach dropped.
The gatekeeper.
She blinked and realised that Lincoln was gone. Turning, she ran down the hall after him. She had to stop him. She couldn't let him go outside during the eclipse. It was too dangerous.
"Lincoln, wait!” She grabbed his arm and pulled him backwards. He growled and tried to get free. She held him tighter, unrelenting. He looked at her. “Don't! Just don't! Just listen to me a minute."
His panic subsided a little and he stopped struggling against her.
"I can't let you go out there. The eclipse has started and we don't know when it will end. What if it ends while you're out there? It'll be broad daylight."
He removed her hand from his arm in a cold manner. “The eclipse won't end until he has me, not this time."
"What do you plan to do? With Cerberus free from Hell, those guardians will be coming after you. Stay here where it's safe, where I can protect you."
"And let Cerberus kill your friends?"
His words made shards of ice cut up her stomach. It seeped into her veins, sharp and chilling. He was right. In her blind panic and need to protect him, she'd not considered that she'd be leaving people to die. It was her duty to stop demons from killing humans.
He was running again. She sprinted after him but he easily outran her. Using her senses, she tracked him down and found him in the armoury. He threw a crossbow at her the moment she entered and she barely managed to catch it. There was a clink of metal as he took down a sword and ran an appraising eye over it.
"This is insane. What do you think you can do?” She walked towards him and put the crossbow down on the side table.
"We have to stop them before they can come through. If Cerberus appeared in the cemetery then there must be a gateway there. We have to find a way to get it to return to the gateway."
"But we don't even know what we're looking for!"
He looked at her with dark eyes that sent a shiver through her. He wasn't going to listen to reason this time. He was going to listen to the call for violence inside of him. She had to try though. She at least had to attempt to make him see sense.
"What if we can't find the gate it came out of?” she said.
"We can. We have to. Can't you see it does not matter if I stay here or go out there? If the guardians are released, they will find me.” He lowered his head and looked into her eyes, his own pleading with her. She tried to understand but fear of losing him was driving her to stop him. She didn't want him to leave. She didn't want him to die.
"How?” she whispered.
He straightened and without any trace of emotion pulled his black t-shirt up to reveal his stomach and chest. The marks were back, as black as sin and stark against his pale body. Her stomach turned with nerves. Her hand came to rest on the crossbow and she picked it up.
Maybe he was right. Maybe if they killed Cerberus it would return the beast to Hell where it belonged and stop the guardians from escaping. It was better they fought this alone and away from people. If they stayed here and the guardians came for Lincoln, who knew how many people would die. She couldn't be responsible for all that death just because she was frightened of losing Lincoln.
His words rang in her head. She had to believe in fate and the foretold future. She had to have faith in herself and know that no matter what happened, she would save him.
She looked at Lincoln, cursing the tears that filled her eyes and fearing that this would be one of their last moments together.
Walking towards him, she lowered the crossbow until it dangled from her hand at her side. She tiptoed and closed her eyes, her lips brushing his in a slow kiss that made her heart feel as though it was breaking. She struggled against the sob that tried to escape her when his arm snaked around her waist and held her against him. He deepened the kiss and, in it, she felt every drop of his love.
Breaking away from him, she turned her back and wiped away her tears. She had to be strong and believe in destiny.
She took a deep breath and sighed it out.
No matter what happened today, in the end they'd be together.
She'd save him.
"Let's go."
Lincoln tossed the empty blood pack to the floor and crossed the threshold of the cold grey cemetery. Stone statues loomed above him, a testament to those buried beneath. He scanned the rows, searching for his quarry. The wind drove the spitting rain against him, making his long black coat dance around. He narrowed his eyes, his senses heightening until they were razor-sharp. He would find Cerberus. He would send the beast back to Hell.
He pressed on, barely aware of Lilith beside him. She was a faint heartbeat in his ears, just a mark on his senses. No matter how much her heartbeat demanded his attention, he couldn't give into it. He had a hunt to complete.
The light rain turned heavier, fogging his senses. He frowned and put all his effort into sharpening them beyond its affects. It was hard. The water was bouncing off all the tombs around him, creating signals that distorted as they collided with one another in his mind.
Cold drops slid over his skin and crawled along his scalp. He huffed and pushed his dark hair back, slicking it to his head and stopping the water from dripping down into his eyes. If his ability to sense creatures and movement was muddled by the rain, he would need his vision.
His eyes slid to Lilith. She was huddled into her thin black denim jacket, tugging it closed across her chest. The dark blue jeans she wore were already soaked near the bottom of her legs. Her blonde hair had turned dark with the rain, hanging in tendrils from her ponytail. She pushed water out of her eyes and squinted into the distance. He looked there, seeing no break in the clouds, and breathed deep through his nose. This storm was here to stay.
He moved his sword to his other hand and reached into his coat pocket.
Lilith looked at him when he pulled it out again and her eyes widened, surprise lacing her inner feelings. He pressed the little switch on the handle and the umbrella burst open. Raising it above his head, he looked across at Lilith and then down at the spot beside him. There was no need for her to get any wetter, at least not until they found Cerberus. Even then, he hoped she wouldn't fight. He didn't want her to get hurt. She was so fragile.
She still looked shocked when she joined him under the canopy of the black umbrella. He'd taken it from Section Seven headquarters along with the coat. It wasn't as though the previous owner would have the courage to argue with him and he needed them more. His senses had told him it would rain.
"Just because I am a vampire it does not mean I am stupid enough not to carry an umbrella. You forget I was raised in this country, and in all my years the weather has changed very little.” He grinned at her and started walking again.
The cemetery was quiet and his focus kept slipping. He could feel Lilith's eyes on him, luring him into looking at her, and her arm kept brushing his hand as they walked. He took a deep breath to catch her soft scent on the damp cool air. It made his heart warm to smell her, to feel her so close to him.
"You think they'll listen to us?” she said in a low voice as though she feared someone hearing them.
Even if Cerberus were invisible, it didn't mean it was impossible to find and it certainly didn't mean it could sneak up on them. His senses weren't that dull. Not even the rain could affect him that much. He should still be able to detect a demon or movement. The tombs and statues were stationary.
"They will listen if they know what is good for them.” He peered into the dark distance.
At the entrance to the cemetery, Section Seven had placed a large white tent that made it clear there'd been a murder in the vicinity. It seemed enough to deter the humans. It wasn't enough to deter the vampire hunters though. Lilith had been forced to argue her point, even to Mark who had insisted on accompanying them. There was nothing the hunters could do when they couldn't see the beast attacking them. They didn't have the necessary senses to find it, not like he and Lilith did. They'd arrived at the end of another failed hunt for Cerberus. The death toll was rising and Lilith had been quick to point that out.
Not even Mark had been able to argue his way out of that one.
Finally, they'd agreed to give them a short window in which to conduct a hunt. Lincoln didn't trust the hunters to keep their word. Their need to hunt Cerberus had gone beyond a duty to protect humans to a desire for vengeance and the protection of pride. Cerberus had killed many of their hunters. Those who had fought it and survived had gathered at the gates and Lincoln had sensed their anger about him going out to hunt the beast alone with Lilith. If they succeeded, it would further dent the pride of all those hunters. He would have to watch his back.
Something moved on the edge of his senses. He looked at Lilith. She seemed oblivious to it. He knew that she was calling the night and using the gift of her blood to assist her search. Perhaps it wasn't strong enough to sense past the rain to any long distance. The movement he'd felt had been far away, on the other side of the cemetery. It was possibly someone outside the walls, but they couldn't discount it. He had to go there and see with his own two eyes that it wasn't Cerberus.
He turned across Lilith, forcing her to turn with him, and walked along the path towards the movement. Whatever had caused it was still moving and it felt as though it was coming towards them.
Taking a turn in the path, he saw it. Three sets of eyes like headlamps stared out at him from the gigantic wolf-like heads. It shook them all, spraying water everywhere and turning its manes to tousled black threads.
He could see it.
It could see him.
Cold dread stole in at the corners of his heart, filling it with darkness. In Cerberus’ eyes, he could see Hell reflected, a fiery pit of pain and suffering. It whispered words of things that were to come, of endless days of torture, of pain so intense it would feel as though it was tearing his insides apart, and of wishing for death when it was an impossible elusive dream.
He stared at it, quickly assessing its size and any possible weaknesses. It was huge, even at this distance. Its teeth alone had to be the length of his hand. Fighting it was going to be difficult but not impossible. Impossible would be stopping Lilith from joining in. She wasn't strong enough to take on a demon of this size. Nothing he said right now would stop her though. He knew that well enough.
"I can see it,” he whispered, never taking his eyes off it. “Hell's welcoming committee."
It snarled and lowered all three of its heads, its pupils narrowing.
The hair on its back bristled.
"It must be because I am going to Hell."
Silence.
Lilith touched his hand, her fingers trembling against him. He turned his head and looked at her, sensing her fear for the first time. It was there in her eyes as she shrank away from the world and towards him, close. He placed his hand over hers, feeling her cold wet skin and how badly she was shaking.
"What is it?” he said, keeping his senses locked on Cerberus so it couldn't move without him noticing. It wasn't wise to turn his back on an enemy, but Lilith felt so scared. Her fear compelled him to comfort her.
"I can ... see it.” Her voice trembled as much as her body.
His fingers closed over hers and he looked at Cerberus.
She could see it?
He realised it had been his words that had frightened her. He'd said that he could see it because he was going to Hell. She believed now that she was going to Hell too. He held her hand tighter.
"It must be resonance from the claim,” he said calmly and looked down at her again. “That is all."
She gave a tiny smile that held incredible fear. His hand slipped from hers and he lowered the umbrella. He casually closed it and stowed it away in his pocket. He'd need it when he'd defeated Cerberus. The rain showed no sign of stopping.
He didn't know how he was going to do it, but he wasn't going to Hell, not today, and that meant he had to send the gatekeeper there in his place. He had to stop the guardians from leaving Hell.
The click of Lilith's crossbow caught his attention. He could sense her readiness, her desire to fight. He couldn't deny her. All he could do was protect her.
There was a moment of deepest quiet and then everything sped to a blur.
He drew the sword, sprinted at Cerberus, and was on it before it had a chance to react. The blade cut through the ear of the left head. It released an ear-splitting howl of pain and swiped at him with a paw the size of a wrecking ball. He leapt over it, rolled and turned the moment his feet hit the path. Launching himself at Cerberus’ back, he changed into his vampire guise and roared in defiance.
Lilith was still standing in the same spot. She looked dazed, as though she hadn't quite caught up with what was happening yet. Humans’ vision always took a while to adjust to the speed his kind could use.
He grabbed a fistful of Cerberus’ wet mane and pulled, pressing his knees into its back and holding on as the beast tried to throw him off. He snarled, raised the sword and drove it deep into the neck of the left head. It bucked and his grip on the handle of the sword tightened, stopping him from falling. A crossbow bolt whizzed past his head.
"Careful!” he shouted at Lilith, his look indignant.
Her face screwed up into an awkward guilty look and she reloaded the crossbow. The fact that she was keeping her distance surprised him but he knew it was only a matter of time before she joined the fight. Pulling the sword out, he ran down Cerberus’ back and leapt off. He grasped the sword in both hands, rolled in mid-air and brought the blade down in a hard fast arc. It cut straight through the tail, lopping off the last four foot of it. Cerberus turned with a low growl that rumbled through Lincoln's body in sickening waves.
He readied himself, lowering his head until he was looking up, staring into the beast's eyes. It growled again. He growled back, sneering to expose his fangs. His eyebrows knit tight, violence rising inside him as he surrendered to the call in his blood. Kill. He grinned, leaned forwards, and stood his ground. His fingers tightened around the sword. He wouldn't give in. He wouldn't give up. No matter what happened here, no matter how this fight went, he refused to be a pawn in another's game.
With a roar, he ran at Cerberus, raising his sword at the same time. He dodged the first swipe of its paw, narrowly avoided the teeth of the right head, and managed to slash across its chest. The second swipe of its paw sent him flying across the graveyard. He hit the floor hard, rolling and skidding on the wet tarmac until he hit a headstone. It shattered from the force of impact. Pain, searing and white-hot, spread across his back. His left shoulder blade grated against his ribs as he pushed himself. He gritted his teeth and shoved his shoulder with his hand, forcing it back into position. A quick shake of his head and his senses were in order again. The pain began to subside, the signals dampened by his lust for violence.
He pushed himself onto his feet and gave Cerberus a displeased look. Rolling his shoulders as he walked, he listened to the bones in his back cracking into place and huffed. He stooped, picked up his sword from the wet grass, and frowned at Cerberus. It was watching him. He realised it was ignoring Lilith.
His eyebrows rose when he realised why.
Lilith wasn't destined to go to Hell. Maybe it only attacked those that belonged to Hell, or perhaps those that attempted to kill it. So far, Lilith hadn't fired a shot at Cerberus. She'd only fired a shot at himself.
A click of a crossbow said she was about to remedy that.
"Lilith, no!” He held his hand out towards her. It was too late. The bolt flew, cutting through the heavy rain. Everything fell silent for a split second before it buried itself deep into Cerberus’ left flank.
All three of its heads turned slowly to regard Lilith. She backed off a step, her fingers flexing around the crossbow. Lincoln could sense her nerves from here. Her heart was thundering.
He ran, desperate to reach her before Cerberus did. It all moved in slow motion and he felt as though the air had turned to tar, hindering his progress. Cerberus raised a paw. His heart clenched in his chest. Lilith was fragile. If Cerberus hit her, it would break her.
"No!” He ran hard, his hand reaching out to her. Too slow. Too slow.
The paw caught Lilith. Her eyes closed and her mouth opened as it slammed into her stomach. Her limbs flew forwards, her body bending in two. Her hair covered her face. Her scream filled his ears. Her pain pounded in his veins.
She flew with arms outstretched a few feet off the ground.
He ran, harder than he'd ever done, intent on breaking her fall. He leapt over Cerberus, sprang off its back, and hit the ground running. The sword fell from his hands. He looked across at Lilith, level with her now. He turned, caught her in his arms, and slammed into a tomb.
Everything raced again.
He cradled her in his arms, his senses reaching out to check her over as his eyes scanned her body. She had her eyes closed, screwed shut by fear. He touched her cheek and she recoiled, curling into a ball.
"Lilith,” he whispered, softly stroking her cheek.
One eye opened and looked up at him.
He smiled and cleared the hair from her face. “Are you alright?"
She opened her other eye and looked around them, dazedly taking everything in. She frowned at the wet grass and then looked from the spot where Cerberus was waiting to where they were now.
Her frown turned on him.
"You caught me."
His smile widened and he brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek. Of course he'd caught her. He'd never let anything happen to her, not if it was in his power to stop it.
"Are you able to stand?” he said, his fingers still playing against her cheek. His senses said she wasn't in too much pain.
She nodded.
He helped her stand and then took her hand when she offered it, pulling him up onto his feet.
"Keep your distance,” he said and looked at her a moment longer, into her eyes, and then ran back towards Cerberus.
He slowed to a jog and then a walk as he bent to pick up his sword. He stared at Cerberus, right into the eyes of its middle head.
"Leave her out of this. She's not for you.” He tightened his grip on the sword. “It's me you want."
He sensed Lilith's heartbeat flutter and felt the warmth he'd created inside her with those words. Maybe there was something to this chivalry stuff. She seemed to respond to it. All he had to do to make her love him was use his body as a shield, take all the pain, and face impossible odds for the sake of protecting her.
A small price to pay.
Cerberus circled him. He countered the beast's movements, forcing it backwards. It wasn't getting anywhere near Lilith.
He drove it further away from her, focusing all his senses on it now, studying it to predict its movements before it made any. Its eyes narrowed on him. Thunder rolled in the distance.
His blood echoed the thunder. It called to him, demanding the violence of his kind and his submission to it. He willingly surrendered, closing his eyes as the need to kill surged through him. With Lilith away from the fight, he could lose control without fear of hurting her by mistake.
He opened his eyes, his red ones intent on their target. The smell of blood filled his senses, the acrid stench of demon blood. It would bathe the world before he was finished.
He sneered and sprang forwards, bringing the sword around at the same time. It sliced across the face of the left head, cutting through its eyes and blinding it. It growled and snapped its teeth at him. Not quick enough.
Lincoln came around, luring it into turning its back on Lilith. He needed to keep its attention away from her. He attacked again, dodging the huge teeth of the left head as it tried to bite him, and driving the sword into its throat. Using all of his might, he pulled it forward, slicing through the flesh. Blood drenched the pavement, falling in a cascade from the throat of the left head. Its eyes rolled and its head fell forwards, limp and lifeless. The other two heads lifted. Its howl punctured the sound of the rain and rang in his ears. It was a perfect opportunity to attack. He leapt and brought the sword down in a swift arc. Before it could hit its target, the middle head had snapped around and caught the sword in its teeth. It shook its head, flinging him like a ragdoll across the cemetery.
Undeterred, he got to his feet and rushed the beast again. He heard Lilith cry out his name and looked at her a moment.
Was she trying to get him killed by distracting him?
Her eyes were wide, her face drawn and pale. She was staring at the sky.
His senses sparked.
He looked up above him and dived to the side, narrowly avoiding the spear that the winged man drove into the ground. Swallowing hard, he could only watch as the man grabbed hold of the right head of Cerberus. His hands pried its mouth apart, snapped its jaw and left it dead. It moved without any sign of emotion to the middle and final head. There was a moment of realisation in Cerberus’ eyes.
Lilith ran to Lincoln's side and fell to her knees beside him on the grass. She stared at the newcomer, unable to believe her eyes and what her heart was telling her.
Cerberus slumped to the floor.
Her ability to breathe left her.
Was she dreaming?
This couldn't be real.
Her heart said that it was.
There, stood over the carcass of Cerberus, was what looked like an angel. It was taller than the average man and on its back were long silvery wings. They stretched out to their full wingspan before folding neatly against the man's back.
An angel?
She stared at it. It couldn't be real. There was an unearthly glow to its skin, pale against its dark gladiatorial armour.
Her eyes fell from its face to its hands. She frowned at them and cocked her head to one side. Blood covered them, from its elbows to the tips of its fingers. The dark liquid dripped from them. She looked closer. It was holding something in the hand furthest from her. She couldn't quite make it out in the darkness.
As it turned towards her, her stomach lurched.
It was holding a heart.
Cerberus’ heart.
The angel regarded them with distant eyes, as though it was wondering how they could see it.
She swallowed again and touched Lincoln's shoulder. “Is that an angel?"
He didn't answer. The look on his face was sheer terror.
The angel turned away from them, regarding its kill.
"I thought they'd be more with the harp playing and sandals, and less with the ripping out demons hearts."
It looked at them again.
A shimmering circle of light hovered just above its head and she opened her mouth to say something about how cliché the halo was.
The words fled her lips.
The halo began to flicker, the smooth surface spiking up and fluctuating.
It burst into flames.
It became a crown of fire.
She was still staring at it when Lincoln grabbed her and threw her to the ground with him, his body covering hers. Her eyes widened when she saw what he'd seen.
The angel had changed. Its wings were dirty grey and tattered. Its eyes were red and a black-blue forked tongue flickered from between its lips, lips that were now parted in the wickedest of grins. Scales replaced part of its skin, covering its exposed shoulders.
Its claws were penetrating the heart it held, black talons that were at least three inches long.
Sickness swept through her when its wings opened, beating the cold air towards her as it lifted off the ground.
It was eating.
It was eating Cerberus’ heart.
She couldn't look away.
Blood ran down its face as it gorged itself on the tender flesh, staring at her the whole while.
She felt as though it was eating her heart.
Her free hand clutched at her chest.
With an eerie cry that pierced her mind and made her flinch, it tossed the remains of the heart aside.
She shook her head as it advanced on her.
Lincoln shifted and was gone. She rolled onto her hands and knees and threw up, closing her eyes against the image remaining in her mind—the gleeful look the angel had been wearing as it feasted.
When her stomach was empty, she stumbled to her feet, her knees like jelly. She leaned hard against a headstone and turned with wide eyes to look for Lincoln.
Her stomach plunged.
He was fighting the angel.
She stared open-mouthed, too numb to help, too scared to move.
Her heart ached with the fear of losing him. Still she couldn't move. She could only watch in horror as they clashed. The smell of blood rose into the air, all vampire. The angel threw Lincoln aside and leered at her. She backed into the headstone, instinct telling her to flee. Her heart told her to stay, to fight by Lincoln's side. It was her destiny to save him.
She shook her head, too weak and scared to do as her heart was begging her.
Lincoln slashed at the angel's wings and it cried out. Lilith realised that it was the first time she'd seen it bleed. Every time Lincoln had run the sword across the angel's body, the wounds had instantly closed.
"The wings!” she shouted over the sound of falling rain. She skidded on the wet grass as she tried to run towards Lincoln.
He turned and looked at her. The angel sneered and shoved its claws into Lincoln's shoulder. He roared, flinging his head back and falling to his knees. The angel laughed, a low mirthless sound of victory.
The sword fell from Lincoln's hand as the angel pushed forwards, bending him over backwards.
Lilith grabbed the sword and came around behind the angel. She brought the blade down hard, grunting with effort as she hacked at the angel's right wing. It gave another shrill cry and tried to turn to attack her. Lincoln grabbed its arms and sneered as he punched it in the face. She gritted her teeth and kept hacking until she was going through bone.
She looked into Lincoln's eyes when he came up beside her. He nodded towards the other wing. She went to hit it but stopped when Lincoln grabbed hold of the wing she'd been cutting. He pushed his foot against the angel's back and dug his claws into its broken wing. It shrieked and tried to claw at him as he leaned backwards, tugging on the wing. She shook herself out of her daze and hacked at the other wing.
The angel struggled and hit her hard with its remaining wing. She fell to the floor and before she could get up again, Lincoln had torn the first wing off and was starting on the second.
She hoped this would do some good. There had to be a reason its wings were vulnerable.
Lincoln ripped the second wing off.
Bright light shot down from the sky and the force of it threw her and Lincoln across the cemetery.
She shielded her eyes with her hand and squinted. The light engulfed the angel. It twisted and turned inside the bright shaft, as though writhing in pain, and then disappeared.
The light stopped, plunging her into intense darkness. Her eyes struggled to adapt. Her senses guided her to Lincoln and she found him lying on the ground a few feet from her.
"What happened?” she said, collapsing beside him, tired and breathless.
She didn't want to consider what she'd just witnessed. It wasn't possible. Lincoln seemed to read her thoughts and say them aloud.
"God,” he said and stared at the sky. “The Devil is a fallen angel, stripped of his wings and sent to Hell. It would make sense that if you stripped an angel of its wings, it would become vulnerable."
She leaned forwards and cradled her head in her hands. God? Had she really just witnessed God's wrath? She'd thought these past few weeks couldn't get any weirder. She'd been wrong. First the Devil, and now God and demonic angels. What was next?
"Why?” she said. Lincoln looked over at her. “Why was it like that?"
"Cerberus was created to keep those in Hell, in Hell. To stop them from escaping.” He sat up and stared into the distance. She felt the rise in fear inside him. He whispered, “Guardians."
Her blood ran cold. “That was a guardian?"
"What if the Devil wasn't the only angel sent to Hell? What if God had taken measures to ensure that those in Hell stayed there? The Devil is chained to Hell for that reason. Perhaps there are angels watching over Hell as well as Earth and Heaven."
"But that angel ... why did it change?"
"The Devil is sending guardians to bring me back to violence where I belong.” He stood and picked up his sword. “What if God's guardians are now his? What if countless millennia in Hell has affected them?"
"Turned them evil,” she whispered to the floor. It made sense in an eerie and inconsiderable way. If something as pure as an angel could turn evil, it was no wonder some humans became twisted and cruel, intent on murder and other horrible things.
She got to her feet and looked at Lincoln. He was still staring into the distance.
"So we pulled its wings off and God judged it to be naughty? We killed the guardian.” She smiled and touched his arm. “You're safe."
He shook his head solemnly. “Guardians not guardian. The Devil will send his guardians for me."
She wished he'd look at her. He was beginning to freak her out with his constant staring into the black void around them. They'd defeated one. What was he worried about?
She froze.
They'd defeated one.
The guardians had made it out of Hell.
A shiver tingled over every inch of her skin.
Her head snapped up and she looked into the distance.
"Run, Lilith,” he said and touched her hand where it still held his arm. “Run."
There was such pain in his voice, such feeling. It made her heart ache to hear the resolve in it and feel all the emotions in him—fear, love, hope. Tears filled her eyes. She blinked them away.
"I'm not leaving,” she whispered and clung to his arm.
Her eyes fixed on the twin spots approaching them, silver wings beating the air.
"You have to.” He turned to look at her. She stared into his eyes, memorising the calm and affection in them.
"Don't make me leave,” she whispered and held onto him. He looked down at her arm and forced his fingers under hers, prying them off him. She tried to hold on. “Please, Lincoln. Don't do this."
He smiled and it broke her heart to feel all the love behind it.
"I have to,” he whispered and pulled her hand off him, gently lifting it to his lips. He closed his eyes and kissed it. Tears traced her cold cheeks like burning fire. He drew back and lowered her hand. She closed her eyes briefly as his hand cupped her cheek, holding it carefully as though she was going to break.
She was going to break.
She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, her lower lip trembling. He couldn't go. He couldn't leave her. She wasn't strong enough to save him and the alternative didn't bear thinking about. She wouldn't let him do this. It was suicide.
"This is my destiny. I am so tired of running,” he said.
He wiped her tears away with the pad of his thumb.
His head lowered towards hers.
"I will not let him have you. I will fight to the last."
She could almost feel the beat of the angels’ wings against her. Her fingers closed around his arms, gripping the material of his coat.
"Have faith,” he whispered. “I do."
His lips pressed against hers and her heart shattered as she kissed him.
A beat of wind against her.
"I love you, Lilith."
Her hands were empty and the sound of wings drifted into the distance.
She fell to her knees, the impact sending a jolt of pain through her. He was gone. No. She turned and pushed herself onto her feet, running after him. She couldn't do this. She wasn't strong enough to fight. She didn't know what to do.
Raising her hands, she wiped away her tears and focused on Lincoln. He was fighting the angels even as they carried him away. She reached out a hand to him, calling him back to her, begging him not to go. She had no faith in herself. She wasn't strong enough to save him.
A bright flash blinded her.
Lilith opened her eyes and stared at the wet grass. The rain splashed off the blades and rolled down them to the muddy earth. How had she ended up on the floor? She couldn't remember anything after seeing Lincoln carried away by the guardians.
Her senses slowly came back. Her hearing was first, filled with the sound of falling rain and her own ragged breathing. Touch came next. Her hands were cold where they pressed into the dirt. Her body trembled with pain from her injuries and her muddled emotions. She could smell the wet ground. Thunder growled overhead. She could taste blood in her mouth.
Her final sense kicked back in. Her gift sharpening her senses to reveal the fact she wasn't alone.
She scooted backwards, away from the three people standing over her. Her eyes were wild and wide as she looked at them. The three women looked back at her, emotionless and as still as statues. They were all wearing the same style of dark dress, but their ages and appearance varied tremendously. One was squat and round, her hair wild and silver. The second was tall and thin, her white hair drawn back into a bun, giving her a strict look. The third threw her completely. While the other two were far older than herself, the third looked younger. Her soft features were set in a smile, her silver hair wavy and allowed to flow freely. She looked no older than twenty. Her figure was slim and of average height. Lilith looked at her the longest, right into her pale blue eyes that matched the other two women's perfectly.
Her eyes flicked to the crossbow she'd left by the tomb. It was at least fifty metres to it. The kind of power these three were radiating warned her that she wouldn't make it that far before they had her.
She had to try though. She had to be ready to fight if they attacked as she feared.
A deep breath and she was on her feet and running for the crossbow. It lifted off the ground before she could reach it and floated towards her. She grabbed it and turned on the three women, breathing hard as she struggled to come to terms with what had happened.
The youngest woman smiled again, tilting her head slightly.
Lilith looked down at the crossbow and took a bolt out of the case at her waist. She loaded it, clicking the bolt into place and not caring that these witches had brought the crossbow to her. If they meant to throw her off guard, they had another thing coming. She raised it and aimed at them. She wasn't about to let anyone stand between her and getting Lincoln back.
"Who the hell are you!” She stared down the sight at them.
"It has begun,” they said in unison. “Lilith."
She didn't know who they were, but they certainly knew her. She scanned the sky, wishing that Lincoln was here with her still, and then realised something.
She couldn't feel him anymore.
Her heart turned to ice, cold with dread.
Was he gone? Was it just because they'd taken him away from Earth? He couldn't be dead. She was meant to save him. It was her destiny.
Her breath faltered and sounded harsh in her ears.
Inside her, it felt as though the cord connecting them had been cut. She felt weak and empty. Hollow. She frowned and then furrowed her eyebrows, trying desperately to understand what was happening. Her eyes met the youngest woman's again.
"It is time,” the tall woman said.
"Earlier than expected,” the short one said.
"Are you ready?” The youngest one smiled.
She looked around her, confused and wishing she knew what was happening. She had to get out of here. She had to figure out how to save Lincoln.
It dawned on her who these people were.
"It was you, wasn't it? You told Lincoln about me.” She took a step towards them. They nodded in time with each other. “I don't think I'm ready. Can you see what happens? Will I save him?"
They looked at one another and then back at her.
"His future is not certain,” the tall one said.
"Your paths are not set.” The short one looked away from her, as though she felt guilty for something.
"There is a chance you will not save him,” the youngest one said with an air of regret.
"But you said I would! You told him that I would!” She told herself not to panic. They'd said there was a chance she wouldn't save him. Surely that meant there was an equal, if not more certain, chance she would. “What changed his fate?"
They looked at one another again.
Silence.
She realised what had changed it without them having to say a word.
"It's because of what he did,” she said and touched the scars that darted across her chest. “By claiming me, he altered his fate?"
"No. The bond you created...” The tall one stepped forward.
"...Only strengthens your resolve...” The short one followed suit.
"...And your feelings for him."
She realised they always spoke as one, as though they shared a common mind. It felt as though they shared a common power too, and that magic was incredibly strong.
"Then why?” she said, trying not to think about Lincoln and where he would be now. He would fight. She had to fight too. She couldn't fail him now.
"There are those who will stand against you."
"They will try to stop you."
"But there are those who will help you too."
She looked at the youngest witch. Her serene smile seemed to quell the fear inside her.
"Bring him back,” Lilith whispered to her. “Or send me to him."
The young witch shook her head.
"We cannot,” the tallest one said.
"If you wish to fight."
"Then you must make a choice."
"A choice?” she said, a little harshly. “I can't let him go on alone!"
"It was his choice."
"His decision.” A smile touched the shortest one's lips.
"His alone."
"Why? Why leave me behind?” Her gaze fell to the floor and then she raised her head and searched their eyes.
"To protect you,” they said in unison and she knew what they were talking about.
The Devil would come looking for her if he escaped Hell. It was her destiny to be his bride and bear his child.
"You are marked."
"You are chosen."
"If Lincoln fails, he will come for you."
The thought of that scared her, chilling her blood until goose bumps chased over her skin. She wouldn't know if it was Lincoln or the Devil. Or would she? The Devil would use Lincoln's body, use hers to create himself a spawn that could walk the Earth in his stead. Would she know if the one who returned to her was the Devil wearing Lincoln's body? Would the claim still be in place if it were the Devil?
"I need to go to Lincoln. I need to go with him to Hell. I know you have the power to send me there. Please?"
The tall one looked her over. “We can tell you where to go."
"But first you must let go of your anger."
"And accept your love.” The young one smiled again.
"Only then can you fight for him,” they said together.
She frowned. The shred of sense that still stood firm against Lincoln rose in the back of mind, whispering contemptuous words to her heart. It listened to them.
"I fight for everyone,” she said, unable to admit what they had asked her to.
They frowned at her.
"It is not enough,” the tall one said.
"You cannot fight for all.” The short one gave her a dark look.
"You must fight for one,” the youngest one said.
"Fight to save your love."
"Embrace your heritage."
"It will awaken your strength."
Could she do that? Could she truly embrace the blood that flowed within her? She didn't think she was ready. It was hard enough just living with the knowledge that a part of her was vampire. To accept it was something she couldn't do right now.
"Where do I go?” she said in an effort to pretend she hadn't heard what they'd said.
"To Romania.” The tall one stepped backwards.
"A gate has been opened there and can be reopened.” The short one followed suit.
"You must seek its guardians.” The youngest one moved away from her.
"The Tenebrae,” they said in unison.
A bright flash stung her eyes and when the world came back, the three were gone.
She stared at the spot where they'd been.
Vampires guarded a gate to Hell in Romania? It was all so confusing and she didn't have the strength to even think about it or what had happened. Her legs felt suddenly weak, her arms no longer able to hold the crossbow up. Uncertainty ripped her apart. The witches had been no help. How could she embrace the darkness inside her when she'd fought her whole life against vampires? How could she save Lincoln when their future was no longer certain?
Silence rang in her head. Her brow furrowed.
They were right. She couldn't fight to save everyone. She had to fight for Lincoln, for her love. Lincoln was gone, probably fighting angels’ in Hell right this minute, facing the impossible task of defeating the Devil in order to protect her. He was fighting for her. He didn't care about the world or himself any more. He was doing this solely for her. She had to fight for him too.
She didn't know what to do though.
The witches had told her to go to Romania.
It was a start.
How was she supposed to get there?
Her head snapped around and she looked down the hill towards the white tent where the hunters were. She ran towards it, her head pounding with each step. There was no time to lose. She had to find a way to get to Lincoln and save him before he sacrificed himself. She didn't want him to die. She couldn't live without him.
She ran straight into the tent. Silence fell and everyone looked at her. She breathed hard, struggling to speak. Her eyes searched for Daniel and found him near the back of the tent with Mark and a three other elite hunters.
"Daniel,” she said and pushed through the people to get to him. He gave her a concerned look. She didn't care what a mess she looked. Her injuries were only superficial. There were more important things to attend to right now. She grabbed his arm. “I need a plane."
He raised an eyebrow. “A plane?"
"What's this about?” Mark said.
She ignored him.
"Please Daniel. I need to get to Romania. There's no time to lose."
"I can't get a plane at such short notice.” His eyes held a hardness that she didn't like.
Her heart fell. Her anger rose.
"Damn you, Daniel! I need to get to Romania ... now! Lincoln has been taken to Hell and there's a gateway in Romania that I can cross over through. Please. I need to get to him and help him. I really don't fancy bearing the child of the Devil!"
Everyone looked confused.
She sighed and threw the crossbow down. The bolt shot off, narrowly missing Mark's leg.
"I don't have time to explain,” she said and focused on Daniel. Her voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “You owe me ... you all owe me. You hid the truth from me."
He removed her hand from his arm.
"I can't help you,” he said in a cold voice. It hurt. “I can't get you a plane."
Looking into his eyes, she was surprised to see that there was a glimmer of sorrow in them. It clicked. She realised what was happening. Why would Section Seven care that a vampire had been taken to Hell? They had Lincoln's money and he was gone now. She couldn't believe it.
"Please, Daniel?” she whispered, holding his gaze and hoping he'd see all the pain inside her. “You've always been a friend to me. I can't let this happen. You can't. This is Armageddon stuff. This isn't just about vampires!"
"I'm sorry,” he said and she stepped backwards away from him. She looked at him and then at Mark. “I really can't."
His hands were tied. It was the only explanation that came to her. He had always treated her like a daughter. He wouldn't turn his back on her now, in her hour of need, unless someone had tied his hands behind his back and forced him to. The higher ups had told him to refuse her. The smile in Mark's eyes told her that much.
Suddenly this group of people no longer felt like her home. She didn't belong here, at a place that only had its best interest at heart and not humanity's.
"I'll save the world alone then,” she said and continued backing away from Daniel and Mark. “No ... I'll save the man I love."
"Where will you go?” Daniel said, stepping forwards, the look of sorrow in his eyes increasing. She continued to distance herself, shaking her head in disbelief.
She turned her back on him, severing all ties to this cold world and those belonging to it. She stepped forwards, towards a new world, one she'd never considered becoming a part of before.
She whispered, “To see my father."
Lilith kicked the door to the club open and walked inside. It was empty and silent, dark. She strode forwards, intent on finally meeting the man whose blood ran in her veins along with her mother's. Embrace her dark side? Maybe she would have to do just that in order to save Lincoln. If that's what it took to bring him back, then she was willing to give it a go.
Two men came forward out of the gloom. The lights nearest the entranced flickered and plinked as they came to life. They did nothing to lift the darkness. She stared at the men, unafraid and ready for anything they might try. As they came closer, she recognised one from when she'd last been here. He was the one Lincoln had spoken to. He hesitated a moment. Obviously, he remembered her too.
They both smiled, revealing razor-sharp teeth.
She didn't fancy her chances with them if they did try something. Would the knowledge that she fell under the protection of Lincoln, their bloodline's Chosen Son, stop them from trying to kill her?
"Oneiric!” she shouted, unwilling to wait and see what the two men had planned. She backed off, keeping a steady distance. Raising her hand to her mouth, she cupped it and hollered again. “Oneiric!"
The men grabbed her and she growled with effort as she struggled against them. Their grip on her was sure, vice-like, and painful. She stifled the panic rising inside her, not wanting to encourage them into biting her by showing her fear. She stamped down hard on one of the men's foot. It did nothing to deter them. The other one grabbed her around the throat. This wasn't good. She flailed her legs, kicking out in all directions as she started to choke. Maybe she shouldn't have come here. There was no help here.
"Unhand her!” A deep voice echoed from the back of the club.
The two men instantly released her and she rubbed her throat, gasping at air.
She looked up to see a man standing just in shadow so his body was visible but his face was obscured. Was it her father? She moved towards him, hesitant and wary. He turned his head away from her and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. His features were rough, strong. She didn't resemble him at all, except for his eyes. She looked into their dark depths and felt a connection.
"Father?” She risked it.
He stared at her, pensive, eyes searching her face.
"Lilith?” he croaked and then cleared his throat. She knew how he felt. It was strange seeing him too. It felt impossible.
She nodded.
He went to step forward and then stopped himself. She wondered why he was keeping his distance. Didn't he want her here? Didn't he want to see her? Lincoln had told her that her father would take care of Eve and raise her well. Was he only interested in Eve? Was it because she was human that he didn't want to come to her?
That thought hurt.
"I did not know,” he said in a strained voice.
"I know,” she said and ventured a step towards him. He didn't move. “I didn't know either."
She felt odd, uncertain, as though she was making a terrible mistake.
"I don't have much time. I need your help. You met a man—"
"Lincoln.” He cut her off. “Charming boy. Sensible. Good standing within the family."
She could hear in his tone how impressed he was, as though he was proud to have Lincoln love her. Maybe this wasn't such a lost cause after all. Maybe there was another reason he was keeping his distance.
"He's in danger,” she said and waited to see what his reaction would be.
"I see."
"I have to help him."
He scrutinised her from the shadows.
"You love him?” he said in a curious voice.
It wasn't time for that kind of question and she hadn't been expecting it. She blushed and struggled to find her voice.
"I do,” she whispered. “He's my mate."
Oneiric smiled, charming and handsome now. She wondered if all male vampires had the ability to disarm a girl with a single smile.
"He is a worthy man. What trouble is he in?"
"Bear with me, because every time I say this it sounds crazier.” She cleared her throat and tried to figure out where to begin. In the car on her way here, she'd rehearsed it countless times, and every time it had changed. “He's gone to fight the Devil because the Devil has a contract with his sire, Mikael, that states that Lincoln will be a vessel for him to walk the Earth for one day. In exchange for that one day, Mikael is protected from death for a thousand years. The Devil will use the one day return to me in Lincoln's body and try to impregnate me with the antichrist."
She held his gaze. He didn't seem too shocked. Taking it as a good sign, she continued.
"I need to find the Tenebrae in Romania."
He frowned now. “Tenebrae? They live in a castle in the middle of nowhere. I will write down directions for you in English and Romanian."
She was too stunned to follow him at first when he turned his back on her and walked away. In a way, she was a little insulted that he'd presumed she couldn't speak Romanian to find her way there. She couldn't, but he could've asked.
She followed him to the back of the club and into a small dimly lit office. It was brighter in here than in the club, but was still gloomy. She bent her head to one side and watched him writing in Romanian. Effortless. How many languages did he know? She wondered how many Lincoln knew and blushed when she remembered him whispering things to her in a foreign tongue while they'd made love.
Oneiric glanced up at her and she looked at him. Her eyes fell to the scars on his face. The side of it looked as though it had been badly burned. The distorted flesh continued down to his neck into his black shirt.
"What happened?” she said.
He touched his cheek and frowned, leaning back in his chair.
"Your mother, the beautiful headstrong Clare Martin, and I had a crazy time too.” He smiled but there was sadness in it. “I tried to protect her, was willing to die for her, I almost did."
"Are all you male Vehemens so romantic in a stupid way?"
His smile became a grin. “It's a vampire thing."
"I suppose it's a bigger sacrifice to die to protect your love when you're immortal, but what about us Martin girls? How are we supposed to go on without you?” It seemed strange to use that newly discovered last name. Her mother had been Clare Martin, vampire hunter. She was Lilith Martin.
He sighed and she joined him in one. It was romantic to sacrifice yourself to save the one you love. It was stupid too. She didn't know how she'd go on without Lincoln if he chose to go down that path.
"Have you seen her since?” she said, hoping to distract herself from the dark thoughts at the back of her mind.
He frowned. “No ... looking like this..."
"Nonsense. I'm sure she'd like to know that you're alive. I've never met her but I know she must be very lonely and she must love you so much. She wanted to have your children and she did, but everything about you was taken from her. They kept us from her."
His expression turned sorrowful. “You look like her. Does Eve too?"
She nodded. “But we both have your eyes and your abilities. Only Eve—"
"I know,” he interjected. “I have men searching for her. They will find her."
"Once we find Eve, I'm going to find our mother. If you find her first, let me know.” She knew from the look in his eyes that he was going to try to find her mother too.
He nodded.
She thought about what she was going to ask and hesitated. What if he said no too? Could she bear to be rejected by everyone?
"Can I ask another favour?” she said, her fingers toying with each other.
"Anything.” There was such honesty in his voice.
He wouldn't turn his back on her.
He'd only just met her but she knew that he wouldn't. Vampires were different to humans. They had a strange sense of loyalty that wasn't broken as easily.
"I need to get a flight."
"To Romania?"
She nodded.
He leaned right back and looked at her, his dark eyes studying her pensively.
"How will Lincoln stop this?"
She didn't know.
"How will you stop it?” he said, leaning forwards and resting his elbows on the desk.
She didn't know that either. All the thinking she'd done in the car had produced no answers to that question.
Grasping at straws, she looked him in the eye and held her head high.
"I'll kill the Devil!"
He laughed, leaning back and throwing all his heart into it. It wasn't very kind. If he thought it was a stupid idea, he could've just said.
"You won't,” he said, still amused. “That's like saying you'll kill God."
She realised that he was right. You couldn't kill God, which meant you couldn't kill the Devil. If she couldn't kill the Devil, then what was she supposed to do? She had to break the contract before Lincoln got himself killed or inhabited by the Devil. How?
A smile touched her lips.
Oneiric raised a curious eyebrow.
One thousand years to the day.
"I'll need that flight,” she said, “but not just yet."
Lilith stood in the middle of the silent road and stared up at the townhouse. It would have been innocent looking had she not known what creatures lived in it. She was relying on the lord of those creatures to be home tonight.
The whole of London seemed quiet. The roads were empty and she'd barely seen more than a handful of people out on the streets. Fear of the eclipse was keeping them inside. She was sure that by now the scientists would have soothed everyone's minds with a theory or two. They'd probably told the population that due to some miracle of alignment, the earth and moon were moving in perfect time with each other, keeping the sun blocked temporarily.
It's the lie she would've used.
Her sense of apprehension slowly rose inside her again and she told herself the same thing she had during the journey here.
They'd calculated the time between the end of the last eclipse and the beginning of this one. It was one thousand years to the day. The Devil's protection of Mikael didn't start until the end of the eclipse and Lincoln's death. That had to mean that right now, Mikael was vulnerable.
Her fingers toyed with the hilt of the sword she was holding point down at her side. Oneiric had kindly given it to her. He'd also insisted on accompanying her in case she needed further assistance. She knew what that meant. He wasn't willing to let her go alone in case she was hurt or killed. She was thankful for his support and protection, but in a way, it felt strange. Those she has believed would assist her, had turned their backs. Those she had never dreamed of asking for help, were willing to fight beside her.
Those witches had said something similar. There were those who would stand in her path and also those who would help. She hadn't expected it to mean this. Humans had shunned her. Vampires had accepted her.
It all added up to make one serious ache in her head.
Walking up the steps to the townhouse, she steadied her heartbeat and put on a brave face. She had to do this. It was the only way to save Lincoln and she wasn't about to let him die because the path to rescuing him was a treacherous one.
She knocked on the door, keeping the sword down at her side, unthreatening but visible so whoever answered would see it and know she meant business.
A tall man answered. He looked at her a moment and then growled. She didn't flinch, not even when he leaned forwards so his face was only inches from hers.
"I have Lincoln,” she said, calling all the anger she had left and thinking about the trouble Lincoln was in because of Mikael. The vampire would be able to sense her feelings. If he could sense anger, maybe it would convince him that what she was about to say was true. “I've heard there's a nice reward for handing him over."
The man's eyes narrowed and he looked her over. She smiled and leaned against her sword, driving the tip of it into the porch step. Confidence and swagger. That's what she needed.
"I'm willing to trade him in for the money and my own safety. How about it? Why don't you get Mikael down here and we can chat business?"
The man looked wary. “That's Lord Mikael to you."
"Whatever,” she said, disinterested as she picked at her nails.
He growled and walked away, leaving the door open. She waited until he was out of sight and released her breath in a trembling sigh. She didn't know how long she'd be able to keep up the act. It had been difficult enough in the car with Oneiric. He'd caught her crying once or twice. Thankfully, he'd had the tact not to mention it and to pretend he hadn't seen. Right now thoughts of Lincoln were weighing heavy on her heart. Fear was trying to take over, whispering poisonous words in her mind about Lincoln. She wouldn't listen to them. He wasn't dead because the eclipse was still happening.
She looked up at the black velvet sky, at the shining diamond-white ring there. It was her beacon of hope now. It no longer scared her, just as Lincoln no longer did. She was in love with him and she was willing to embrace the blood in her veins and the strength it brought if it meant that she could save him.
"A female hunter?” A deep voice made a shiver bolt down her spine.
She gathered herself and then turned slowly to look at Mikael, revealing who she was.
His dark eyes narrowed and she sensed the rise in power inside him. It triggered her senses, telling her to flee. She wouldn't run away. She'd never give up.
"You,” he said in a venomous tone.
She looked from him to the two guards flanking him. They were strong, though not as strong as Lincoln. Perhaps she had a chance against them. She had her doubts about her chances against Mikael though. Even if it ended with her death, she was going to fight him.
Her eyes locked with his.
"If you want Lincoln, then meet me at midnight in Highgate Cemetery,” she said and then turned away and walked down the steps.
She could feel his eyes on her, watching her. He could study her all he liked. He'd never figure out where she got her confidence from or that she wasn't wholly human. That was the advantage she was relying on. He had to believe that she was a human, a vampire hunter whose strength was far below his own. Only then would she be able to catch him off guard.
Getting into the back of the car, she told the driver to go on to the next place. When they were away from the townhouse, she looked across at Oneiric.
"Did it go well?” he said, eyes searching hers.
She nodded. “I think he bought it. He hasn't a clue. He just thinks I'm some pathetic human greedy enough for money to trade in a worthless vampire."
He leaned back into the black leather seat. She'd never been in such a big car, or one so expensive. From the look of the club, she never would have guessed that her father could afford such a luxury item as the black Bentley she was now sitting in. Then again, he'd lived for centuries. Accumulating money was probably easy when you had eternity to do it in.
"Why can't vampires sense what I am?” she said.
She'd been curious about it the moment that Lincoln had told her what she was. He'd said that it was only after she'd nearly died and he'd claimed her that he'd realised she was different. It was only her ability to share a bond with him that had triggered his suspicion about her lineage.
"It is the human element. There is more human to you than vampire. When I was with your mother, a group of weakling vampires attempted to create a new race, ones stronger than themselves, and a method of mass-turning."
"Mass-turning?” She didn't like the sound of that.
He nodded. “A scientist that worked for Section Seven discovered that vampires carry two extra strands of DNA. All of his experiments failed. It was Steinbeck that eventually succeeded and it was your mother who was the first."
"My mother?” That shook her. All this time she'd thought it had been her genetic alteration that had led to others being enhanced. She'd never even considered that this could have all started before she was born.
"Steinbeck played god with her, regardless of the risk. She has heightened strength, healing abilities and senses similar to those of a weakling."
"Like I do,” she whispered and frowned, still trying to come to terms with this new information. They'd experimented on her mother using vampire DNA. Did Lincoln know this? He couldn't. He would have told her if he did. “What do the two other strands of DNA do?"
"One controls the abilities and the other the immortality."
"I'm growing older so I guess I only have the one extra strand."
"It could be that you have neither and your human DNA has only been enhanced by my blood."
She frowned. This was too confusing to think about right now.
"I think I'll just tell myself that I've simply inherited your abilities and your eyes.” She managed a smile and then stared out of the window. The journey seemed to be taking forever. Trepidation made her heart flutter.
"I will accompany you this time, as will one of my men.” There was a look in his eyes, dark and deadly, that told her not to refuse him.
She wouldn't dare. It wasn't just his look making her accept his offer, it was fear of where she was going. If he was at her side, she was sure she'd feel safer.
A glance at her watch revealed that it was two hours until midnight. Would Mikael show up? He must have been able to smell Lincoln on her and she'd rescued him from Mikael before. Her stomach jigged and flipped when she thought about how long these two hours were going to feel. Maybe she should have said eleven, but midnight sounded so much more dramatic.
The car stopped.
She looked out of the window at the massive house and floodlit drive, and took a deep breath.
Oneiric rapped his knuckles against the dark glass separating them from the two men in the front of the car. She heard a door open.
"Are you ready?” Oneiric said.
She clutched her sword and nodded. She could do this. No one would dare hurt her, not with two vampires flanking her, one of them her father.
The door nearest her opened. She stepped out and gave a small smile to the man holding it for her. He was huge. He hadn't looked this big the time she'd met him with Lincoln or when she'd fought with him earlier tonight. The bright light seemed to make him look bigger.
There was a commotion and the front doors of the mansion burst open.
Oneiric stepped out behind her. The man closed the door.
She took another deep breath.
Between her and the mansion stood ten of the best hunters in Section Seven. Mark was there. He gave her a disgusted look that spoke volumes. Everyone had been informed of her mixed blood.
She felt her courage sway. Oneiric's hand on her shoulder brought it back again. Gripping her sword, she walked towards them with Oneiric and the other burly vampire staying close to her. The hunters all drew their stakes as she came within a few feet.
"What do you want?” Mark said.
He was standing in the middle of the line, directly in front of the door.
She didn't have the patience for his questioning.
She called her strength and brought her arm up, hitting him under the jaw with the heel of her hand and sending him flying backwards.
"I've come to get my stuff,” she said with a sweet smile as he hit the wall and slumped to the floor.
There was a hesitant murmur amongst the group. With Mark unconscious, they didn't seem to know what to do.
"Let her pass.” Daniel appeared in the doorway.
She looked at him, not hiding her anger and disappointment.
"I'm sure you know my father,” she said, her tone snide, and walked towards Daniel. “If anyone tries anything, I won't hesitate."
In a split second, her sword was against Daniel's throat.
"I only want what's mine."
She walked past him, trailing the flat of the blade over his shoulder.
"Lilith—” Daniel started.
"Don't!” She kept her back to him. “You chose your side. If this world goes to Hell, you can be proud that you stood by and let it happen."
She walked on, her heart heavy and thoughts pressing down on her. It hurt to think about what he'd done. She'd trusted him and believed in their friendship. He'd been like a father to her. Her senses reached out to her real father where he walked behind her. Everything was so confusing.
Her room was exactly as they'd left it—small, dark and sparsely furnished. She wished it were her apartment back at the complex. Most of her belongings were there. Section Seven had locked the compound down and evacuated everyone. There was no way she could get into it to get her things. She'd have to make do with what she could scrape together from the weapons Daniel had left in her room with a change of clothes.
She looked at the weapons she'd left on the bed when she and Lincoln had last been here. A crossbow, poisoned bolts and holy wood bolts. Small glass balls filled with holy water were beside them. She doubted the crossbow would be a quick enough weapon. Mikael had been faster than it before. Perhaps it would help her deal with whatever minions he brought with him.
She'd have to dispose of them first and then take on Mikael. She couldn't have them distracting her during that fight. It would take every ounce of her strength and all her concentration for her to give him a scratch let alone kill him.
"Is this all?” Oneiric said, his hand hovering over the crossbow bolts on the bed. Clearly he knew what they were made of and wasn't going to dare touch them.
"This, a stake and the sword you gave me. That's all I have. It's about all I can carry anyway.” She tried to sound positive about her prospects. If she survived the fight against Mikael it would be a miracle. It would be a miracle if he didn't kill her within the first five seconds.
She was beginning to wish that Lincoln had had those ten years to train her, or had even given her a little training. Fighting the scout hadn't been too difficult, but Lincoln had been at her throat before she'd even seen him move. Mikael's power far exceeded Lincoln's.
"Lilith?"
She looked at her father. He placed a hand on her shoulder and his dark eyes met hers.
"Trust your instincts and use the abilities you have to your advantage."
"Next you'll be telling me to have faith and believe in the future those witches predicted ... and then you'll sound just like Lincoln,” she said, her voice getting quieter until Lincoln's name came out as a whisper. Her heart ached. Inside her was barren and empty without the connection to him. She'd grown so used to it so quickly. It gave her a sense of comfort and security to be able to feel everything he did and know he was nearby without having to look.
Oneiric squeezed her shoulder.
"Mikael suffers from over-confidence. Use it against him. He will think you a weak human and will rather watch his men dispose of you. It will give you an opportunity to get them out of the way, leaving you a better chance of killing him."
She hoped he was right.
What little faith she did have in herself was quickly ebbing away.
She picked up the straps on the two quivers of bolts and slung them over her shoulder. She tucked a stake into the back pocket of her jeans and then grabbed the crossbow and her sword.
The walk back through the mansion passed in silence and she didn't look back as she got into the car. Removing her shirt, she placed it down on the seat with her sword. She took the two quivers of bolts and loaded up her crossbow with the non-toxic ones. She would save the poisoned bolts for use on Mikael. If she could slow him down, she'd stand a chance.
The car was silent as they made their way to the cemetery. She wasn't in the mood for talking and was thankful that Oneiric didn't seem interested in giving her any last minute pep talks. He seemed as confident in her abilities as Lincoln did, only he'd never seen her fight.
They stopped moving. She glanced out of the window at the cemetery and then at Oneiric.
His blood ran in her veins and she could sense how strong he was. Perhaps she was strong too and that's why he was so confident she would win. Her heart said that Lincoln believed she was strong enough. It was only her fear of surrendering to the darkness inside her that was holding her back.
Her hand fell to her sword. Her fingers slowly closed around the hilt.
She narrowed her eyes on Oneiric, her courage rising as she thought about the upcoming fight. She would win this. She would save Lincoln.
It was going to be hard and she wouldn't come through it unscathed but it would be a small price to pay.
Her eyes lowered to the crossbow and then slid back to Oneiric. The witches had told her to embrace her heritage and awaken her strength, and that some would be willing to help her. Oneiric had already helped her so much. If embracing the darkness inside her would bring out the strength she needed to defeat Mikael, she could do it. She would do anything to save Lincoln and survive this.
"Time to play."
Lincoln's entire body creaked as he hit the wall. He slumped to the ground and then rolled forwards to avoid the loose stones that fell down. Pushing himself up onto his feet, he gave himself a moment to recover and then ran at the angel he'd been fighting. So far, he'd killed three. Every time he killed one, another one arrived to fight him. Every time he killed one, he was left feeling weaker. The fight was taking its toll. It wouldn't be long before he wouldn't be able to continue.
He roared and brought the sword down in a fast arc, slicing into the angel's wing. It hissed at him and swiped with its claws. Evading them, he came around behind it and drove his sword through the joint of its wing, dragging the blade up to cut through it. The wing fell to the floor, lying not far from the other one he'd hacked off it.
The angel fell to the ground, lifeless. Down here, a bright light didn't take them away. It seemed that God could only punish angels killed on Earth.
He breathed hard and leaned forwards, pressing one hand into his knee and gripping his sword with the other. The creatures moved on the edge of his senses. So far, none had dared to come near him. He couldn't call them human, not anymore. Whatever they had been, they were now twisted dark wraiths, deformed creatures so bent and distorted by their captivity in Hell that they were no longer recognisable as their former species.
Standing, he looked over his shoulder at the twin black towers rising up into the darkness until they disappeared. The high crumbling black walls stretched out either side of the towers into eternity. He couldn't see the ends of them, even though they curved as though they'd form a circle. The seventh circle. Violence. The guardians had brought him straight here, bypassing the other circles. His first image of Hell this time had been terrifying. The black gates of Dis had greeted him.
The two angels had taken him through to the other side and it was then he'd seen the occupants of this circle. He wasn't going to spend eternity like this, becoming a twisted creature.
He'd killed five angels, including the one in the cemetery. How many more would stand between him and his destiny? He couldn't go on fighting forever. Eventually he would fall and the Devil would have him then.
No. He had to get back to Lilith.
His thoughts turned to her and he wondered what she was doing. Had she found a way to break the contract? He was counting on her now.
The beating of wings brought him back to his current situation. He looked down at himself, at the wounds that littered his body and the blood that drenched his clothes. Every time he moved, he lost more blood. Soon he wouldn't be able to keep going. He'd never felt so tired. His fingers tightened against the hilt of the sword. He couldn't stop now. He wouldn't give up.
He had to fight to give Lilith time.
Grasping the sword in both hands, he looked at the angel. It had landed beside the red river of Phlegethon. The moment it started towards him, he ran at it, sword raised high. He brought it down at the last second to slash across its stomach. The angel turned on a pinpoint and regarded him coolly. He launched himself at it, surrendering to the darkness inside him and calling on every remaining ounce of his strength. He had to keep fighting, for Lilith.
The angel grabbed him around the throat, its claws penetrating his flesh. He struggled against it, kicking it in the kneecaps. It dropped him and punched him hard across the jaw. He landed on one knee, and then fell forwards, pressing his left hand into the dirt. His vampire guise receded. He was too weak to bring it back.
It took a few attempts to get up onto his feet. When he did, the world wavered and distorted. He closed his eyes and dragged in a deep breath. Blood spilled down his neck to his chest, soaking his clothes. His sword was too heavy to lift. It took both of his hands to raise it shakily. He faced the angel.
It was time.
This fight was to the death.
He wouldn't let the Devil have him. He would protect Lilith the only way he could. He only wished he could see her face one last time and hear her voice, and that he could feel her lips on his and have her say that she loved him. Then he could face death without remorse.
His eyes opened and he looked up at the darkness above. He couldn't feel her anymore. The bond between them didn't stretch far enough. He wanted to sense her one last time, wanted to tell her that he loved her and he was doing this for her. For her, he could die and face eternity in Hell. Only for her.
His gaze met the angel's.
He took one last breath and ran at it.
Lilith stood her ground, her eyes locked with Mikael's. The sour look on his face told her that he was disappointed and angry. He'd realised that she didn't have Lincoln. The two men flanking him were the same ones he'd been with at the mansion. She'd expected more.
Silence wrapped around them. Only the soft sway of the trees in the cemetery around her punctuated it, as quiet as a whisper.
It wouldn't be long now.
Soon Mikael would grow tired and order his men to attack.
He tugged the sleeves of his long black jacket down, impatience in his actions. The light breeze shifted the hem of it, the material brushing his knees. He looked like a lord, dressed with finesse, right down to his highly polished knee-high boots. His air matched his appearance—aloof and confident. Her father was right—Mikael's weakness was his over-confidence. She had to use it against him.
His fingers preened the longer tendrils of his dark hair back, revealing his youthful features. She reminded herself about how old he really was and how strong. She couldn't get complacent and couldn't let her guard down for a second if she was to survive.
Her fingers flexed against hilt of the sword she held by her side. She brushed the strands of hair from her face, smoothing them back into her ponytail, doing her best to look relaxed. If he wasn't going to look nervous, then neither was she. She couldn't let him sense her fear. She had to keep it locked inside and radiate confidence, at least for now.
"We had a deal, mortal."
She smiled and shrugged. “I guess he must have got away on my way here. You should've known a little girl like me would be no match for such a big bad vampire."
He frowned when she pouted.
Maybe it was too much.
Reining in her sarcasm and attempts to irritate him, she frowned back at him.
"So, are we going to fight? Because I'm on a pretty tight schedule,” she said and removed her black shirt, placing it carefully over a headstone. She couldn't afford to get it dirty or ripped. She didn't have any clothes to change into and she would need something to hide her wounds when she got on the plane to Romania.
Her hands skimmed over her black camisole top, tugging it down at the hem so it fitted snugly over the belt of her dark blue jeans.
"Shall we dance?” Her look was hopeful.
He laughed, deep and booming, filling the cemetery with its mocking sound.
There was a sound like a fly buzzing past and then another.
The two vampires either side of Mikael fell to the ground, clutching their chests. They fell to the floor and she saw the arrows protruding from their backs. She'd never considered puncturing a vampire's heart from behind.
Another fly buzzed and Mikael turned on a pinpoint so his back was to her and he was facing his invisible attacker. The bolt hit him in his right arm. He roared and flung his head back as he tugged on the arrow, pulling it free of his flesh. His glare spoke volumes when he turned to face her and snapped the bolt. He growled.
She hadn't realised her father was such a good shot.
She also hadn't expected him to be able to get close enough without Mikael or the other vampires noticing his presence. Maybe they'd foolishly had their senses fixed on her and had ignored the possibility of her having anyone else nearby.
"No heartbeat,” Mikael muttered and stalked towards her. He paused and clutched his arm, his eyes darkening and then melting to red. “It's not Lincoln. What filthy vampire..."
He closed his eyes and swallowed.
She smiled.
By now, the poison would be in his blood. He'd be burning up. She was glad her father was a good shot. Since Mikael had been between them, he'd been firing directly at her. If Mikael had moved, she wouldn't have been able to dodge the bolt. The poison coating the tip was lethal to a human. To a vampire, it would give anything from a fever and weakness to a slow death depending on their strength and age. Mikael was old. It wouldn't kill him.
"You'll ... pay ... insolent ... weakling.” He squeezed his arm. Blood dripped from his hand.
She gripped her sword and launched herself at him. She couldn't let him squeeze out any of the poison. It was her only chance. If it was weakening him, she might just live to tell the tale and save Lincoln.
She turned, came around behind Mikael and slashed across his back, eliciting another roar from him. He turned fast and his fist flew at her. She wasn't quick enough to dodge it. It hit her hard across the jaw and sent her to the ground. Her mind spun and ached. She rolled away, trying to get some distance.
What had she been thinking? She had to use his confidence against him as Oneiric had said. Why had she tried to attack him without calling to her blood for strength?
She ran a short distance away, hoping she'd appear scared. Her heartbeat was too level. She had to get it up in order to convince Mikael that she was just a weak human. It was no longer time to look confident. Now she had to pretend she feared him and regretted her deception.
The night called to her, promising violence and blood. She listened to it, opened her heart to its words. Thoughts of Lincoln fighting for his life in the depths of Hell crowded her mind. Her heart raced at the idea of losing him. She didn't want to lose him. No matter how crazy things had been since she'd met him, she couldn't imagine her world without him anymore. She didn't want to. She couldn't go on if he wasn't at her side.
It didn't matter what the witches had told her. She was fighting for him now, and him alone. This world didn't matter, not while Lincoln was in such danger.
He was her mate, her love. She wouldn't give in. Her heart thundered in response to the night and her thoughts. She closed her mind to her fear and focused on her strength and what she had to do. She had to save Lincoln.
The darkness crept in, making her cold and turning the edges of her soul black. It didn't frighten her anymore. So much didn't. Lincoln had made all that fear go away. He'd taught her that the darkness couldn't take her over. It was a part of her. It didn't control her. She controlled it. Her blood held a power, something she'd relied on so many times but had never embraced.
In her mind, she reached out to it, until the world became outlined in silver and her senses were so sharp they hurt. She didn't stop, didn't fear the next step. She continued to call to it, to let it fill her, and didn't deny it when it entered her heart. This was who she really was. This was her.
Incredible strength surged through her. She opened her eyes and looked at her hands, feeling it. Tiny night creatures were suddenly as loud as elephants. The smell of flowers filled her nostrils even though there were none nearby. She could see everything in infinite detail. It was amazing.
She looked at Mikael.
He was still holding his arm.
"Giving up?” he said with a sly grin, revealing sharp teeth.
"Never,” she said and raised her sword. “We're only just getting started."
He drew his sword. “Oh no ... I am afraid this will all be over very quickly."
"You're bleeding,” she said with a nod towards his arm. “You know what that means don't you?"
He didn't take his eyes off her. There was a momentary change in his expression and she knew he'd realised what she was saying.
"Lincoln is alive. It's been one thousand years ... two days ago. If you can bleed ... you can die. You didn't bleed when I shot you before."
He snarled.
"Want to reassess? Maybe this won't be quick ... maybe it will, if I'm merciful."
His laughter mocked her.
She moved her other hand to her sword and held it in both, pointing it at him.
"A weakling, a human ... you dare believe I will fall by your hand?"
"Want me to prove it?” she said and focused hard. She wanted to be right there next to him before he could sense she'd moved. She saw the path outlined in silver thread. She just needed the speed. Did she have the speed?
Her foot hit the ground and she pushed off. Before she could draw breath, she'd closed the ten-metre gap between them and her sword had plunged through his side.
He stared ahead for a second, at the place she'd been, and then looked down at her. She drew her sword out, her instincts telling her that he was going to attack. She wasn't fast enough to fully evade him. His sword cut across her upper arm as she brought hers up to block it. She knocked it away from her and leapt backwards to a safer distance.
Mikael's lip curled as he looked down at his side and then at her. There was such darkness in his eyes, violence that spoke to her. It was the same look that Lincoln had when he was about to get dangerous. He'd looked like that when he'd fought Verona and the guard. Vicious and deadly.
He sniffed.
She ran her fingers along the cut and held them up. Blood. Busted. Lincoln had known she was different from the smell of her blood.
"I see,” Mikael said in a low voice. His eyes skimmed over her, assessing her.
She didn't like it. Running at him, she gritted her teeth and growled. This was his fault. He deserved to die for the things he'd done to her mate. She wanted to see Lincoln again, safe and well, and feel his arms around her. She wanted him back. Their swords clashed and she gave no quarter. She drove forwards, ignoring every cut that stung her flesh. She had to keep going. Only Mikael's death would save Lincoln. She slashed wildly and struck him hard across his poisoned arm.
He roared and backhanded her, sending her sailing through the air. She landed heavily and hit a headstone. Shaking her head to clear it, she focused again and ran at him. She wasn't going to back down. He'd have to kill her to make her stop.
He had moved before she'd reached him and her senses screamed when she realised he was behind her. She threw herself forwards, rolling and turning so she was facing him again. Her sword blocked his and she shoved forwards to push it away. He snarled and kicked her legs out. Her knees buckled and hit the grass hard. It jarred her spine. She raised the sword above her head, using it to protect herself as he struck again.
Her head ached, the pain in it only eclipsed by that in her body. Every cut he made stung and burned. Blood trickled down her arms. She took a deep breath and struggled to regain her focus. The moment he raised his sword to strike again, she sprinted past him and came around behind. She had to weaken him further. He was still faster than her.
Another sound like a fly buzzed past her ear.
Mikael roared again.
She looked over her shoulder in the direction the bolt had come from. She'd thought that Oneiric had left her. Was he watching? If she got into trouble, would he save her? She'd told him that this was her fight and she only needed a little help to even the odds. She had to do this herself, regardless of the outcome. At the time, he'd nodded but hadn't promised anything. Would he step in if it looked as though she was going to die? Would he protect her?
A tear slid down her cheek and she dashed it away. She was growing tired. The blood on her hands made it difficult to grip her sword. She wiped her palms on her jeans. She would need new clothes after all. She'd never get through customs with all this blood on her.
Mikael snapped the bolt, chasing her thoughts away.
She readied herself. In the blink of an eye, he was on her, driving her backwards with each strike of his sword. It was hard to block them, impossible to defend herself against all. The blade scraped along her ribs below her right arm. She cried out and then bit her lip to stifle it when Mikael looked at her.
"Brave but foolish. You should have known you were no match for me."
He grinned maniacally and thrust his sword forwards. It stabbed her in the shoulder, forcing it backwards and knocking her off balance. She brought her sword down as hard as she could, slicing into the muscle above his collarbone. He leapt backwards, hissing at her.
She had to kill him. It was Lincoln's only hope. Her vision wavered and she drove the point of her sword into the floor, using it as a support. She touched her shoulder and her hand came away drenched in blood. She had to kill him before she passed out.
She ran at him. He easily evaded her. He was getting quicker. She frowned and her heart skipped a beat. No, she was getting slower. Her senses were receding little by little. The damage to her body was too great, the pain too much. It was forcing her strength and abilities to recede so she could focus her energies on healing.
The call of the night drifted into the distance. She willed herself to focus on it, to keep going. All she needed was a little more strength and time. It didn't matter what happened to her now. This time she was facing death. In her heart, she had known that from the start, from the moment she'd first seen Mikael. If her sacrifice could save Lincoln, it was worth it.
Pulling her sword out of the ground, she closed her eyes, focusing everything on this one final push. If she didn't defeat Mikael this time, it was over. It had to be this time. It didn't matter if Mikael killed her too, as long as he died and the contract was broken. Saving Lincoln was everything. Even if she couldn't save herself.
She thought about him and tears rose into her eyes. She was so tired. She could almost feel his arms around her, holding her as she slipped away. Whispered words floated through her mind, comforting her in her final moments. Lincoln had saved her once. It was time to repay him.
She wanted to embrace him one last time, never wanted to let him go. The agony inside her was too much. Her breaths shortened.
Mikael shifted. Bright silver lines burst against the darkness of her closed eyes. Her heart rallied. She would kill him and she would save Lincoln. She would survive this and see him again. She would find him, even if it meant she had to go through Hell itself.
The silver form of Mikael moved towards her, a ghost of his future movements. She grabbed her sword and swung it, screaming with effort and using every last shred of her strength. The sword arced across her eyes, a silver shimmer heading straight for the spot Mikael would strike from.
It didn't stop when it made contact. She leaned her weight into the blow, forcing the sword through and falling forwards when it came free on the other side. She collapsed to her knees and breathed hard, too weak to even open her eyes and see if she had been successful. The sword fell from her hand. She pressed her other one into the damp grass and then turned her head towards Mikael.
Her eyes slowly opened.
He was lying on the floor.
His head lay a few feet away.
It was facing her. She tried to push herself onto her feet but failed. The air around her shifted and then a strong hand was on her arm, hauling her onto her feet.
She didn't look at Oneiric. He held onto her arm, steadying her, and she was thankful for his support and the help he'd given her. She had one last favour to ask of him.
"Will you heal my wounds for me?” she whispered.
His fingers tensed against her arm and then loosened again. “I will."
"If he'd been close to killing me, would you have stopped him?” She looked at him now, right into his dark eyes.
He nodded, silent.
She smiled gratefully and then looked past him. The sky was lightening. Her instincts screamed that the day was coming. She grabbed Oneiric's arm to run with him but he pulled free and scooped her up into his arms, gently cradling her against his broad body. Her eyes closed and she rested her heavy head against his chest. She was so tired. He hurried to the car with her and helped her in before quickly getting in and closing the door.
"I won ... or did I?” she said. For a moment, she'd been confident that her defeat of Mikael had freed Lincoln and that was why the moon had lost its sway over the sun. Then she'd remembered that it could also mean that the Devil had finally taken control of Lincoln's body.
Either way, she needed to get to him and she needed to get to him now.
"Drive,” Oneiric said as he tapped the window between them and the two vampires in the front of the car.
"Won't they die when the sun comes out?” she said with wide eyes. “Won't you die?"
He shook his head. “The glass in this car is special. Our species is very adaptive. We've been using technology to our advantage for many years."
She didn't ask any more. As long as they would be safe, it didn't matter how it was possible. She had to focus on healing herself enough to enter Hell and rescue Lincoln. Killing Mikael sounded easy in comparison to that. In her current state, she'd last barely a few seconds against one of the evil angels.
Oneiric looked her over. There was concern in his expression. She poked the wound on her shoulder. The bleeding was slowing but showed no sign of stopping. Oneiric reached under his seat and pulled out a medical kit.
"I need to get to Romania. They'll stop me at check in looking like this.” She frowned at the array of cuts on her body and all the blood. She'd never get to Romania. Oneiric removed crepe bandages from the kit and looked at her.
"Check in?” he said with a knowing smile. “You didn't think I'd put you on a public plane? My own flesh and blood?"
She turned her frown on him.
"How am I getting to Romania?"
He moved to sit next to her, inspecting her cuts. He cleaned the first one on her shoulder, licking it to seal the wound, and then paused to look at her. She gave him a curious look, wanting to know what he'd planned for her travel arrangements.
"Tell me,” she said.
His smile widened and he cleaned the next cut.
"You'll see."
Lilith stepped off the small private jet and onto the broken tarmac. The journey had been bumpy at best, hair-raising at worst. There'd been so much turbulence that she'd felt sick for almost every minute of it. The jet had been a plaything for the wind and the weather. The elements had tossed it around all over the place. If this was what flying by private jet was normally like, she was never getting on one again. She'd stick with the hefty jumbos.
A car pulled up, sleek and black. She hadn't expected Romania to have cars like it. In her mind, she'd pictured beaten up vehicles that were practically prehistoric and carts pulled by old horses. She glanced around at the bright airport. It had seen better days and the runway was patchy, but it was Romania and it was one step closer to Lincoln.
The sun was beating down. It was nice to see it again. She only hoped that it heralded Lincoln's freedom and not his new status of the Devil's puppet. There was a chance she was going to Hell to rush into the Devil's arms, but it was a chance that she had to take. She couldn't leave Lincoln down there to die, not while there was hope in her heart that he was alive.
She walked towards the car and tugged on her black shirt's sleeves. The bandages felt tight beneath them, restricting her movements slightly. Her father had done a good job of fixing her up. She only hoped she'd regained enough strength to fight if she needed to.
A man stepped out of the car. No, not a man. She looked closer. He was a werewolf just as her pilot had been. She'd never met one before today.
Her grip on her sword tightened and she gave the man a grateful smile when he opened the back door of the car for her. She slid in and slumped into the soft leather seat. Her eyes slipped shut. She hadn't had a wink of sleep on the plane and she was so tired. It hurt every time she moved. She kept still, hoping the pain would drift away and let her catch a few minutes sleep. Not even her worry about Lincoln could keep her awake now. Her body demanded rest and it was going to get it.
When she opened her eyes again, the door was opening and the man was standing outside it. She frowned and it took a few moments for her to remember where she was and what she was doing. The man bent over and looked in at her, evidently wondering if she was going to get out.
She mumbled in his direction and grabbed her sword.
Dragging it out of the car with her, she blinked as the bright sun blinded her and stretched. How long had they been driving? She'd slept for the whole journey but her mind had been troubled, giving her nightmares of Lincoln in Hell.
She pushed them away, telling herself that he would be fine when she found him.
Her eyes swept her surroundings. Great mountains loomed above her, taller than any she'd seen. She heard a murmur of voices and realised that they weren't alone. Turning, she saw the castle. One of the turrets was nothing but a ruin. The grounds around her were strewn with bodies. What had she walked into?
A group of men turned to look at her. They sniffed and then growled, exposing canines.
She looked at the sun and then jumped when the man next to her growled back at them. The group slunk off, casting angry looks in their direction as they did so.
She was confused. They weren't vampires because of the sun. They had to be werewolves too.
"I thought this was the Tenebrae castle?” she said to her companion.
He nodded.
A battle between vampires and werewolves? Had the Tenebrae been attacked recently?
She started towards the castle. Everywhere she looked, there were bodies. She glanced at those she passed. A lot of them looked human and didn't display any demon attributes. She watched another group of people, presumably werewolves too, moving the bodies around. Some they would toss to one side into a heap and others they moved with more respect, laying them out side by side on the grass in front of the castle.
The woods around the castle were dark. She could see bodies in there too. Some of the trees were broken. What had happened here? It was a massacre.
She reached the door to the castle and didn't know whether to knock or not. The door was hanging off its hinges. If she knocked, it would probably fall. She walked in, each step slow and hesitant. The last thing she needed to do was anger whoever was supposed to help her here. Was there really a gateway to Hell in this place?
Her eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the castle and she frowned at the number of dead bodies. There were even more in here than there were outside. She recognised an Aleaeries among them. There were other demons, massive and dangerous looking, that she didn't.
There was debris everywhere. She stepped over the blocks of stone and the bodies, trying to make her way forwards. When she reached a large room, she stopped to take in the scene.
More bodies were here, but there were people too, sorting through them just like the ones outside. These were vampires though. Her senses were telling her that loud and clear.
Someone grabbed her arm and yanked her to one side. She didn't resist them. Whoever they were, they were old and powerful.
"I need to see your lord. I was told by three witches that I'd find a gate here."
"A gate?” The man said, pushing long dirty blond strands of hair from his face.
"Yes, a gate to Hell."
He raised an eyebrow and regarded her with a dark look. “And you want to see the lord of Tenebrae?"
She nodded. His grip on her arm tightened. He dragged her along behind him as he walked. At least he wasn't killing her, yet.
"This place is a mess,” she muttered, stumbling as she tried to keep up with him.
He stopped, turned and growled at her. His eyes were as black as midnight. A Tenebrae.
"Give me a reason not to kill you,” he whispered close to her face.
She swallowed. She hadn't expected her comment to anger him this much. If she had known he would react so badly, she would've kept her mouth shut.
His claws dug into her arm and his eyes flickered to her neck. She realised that not all pure blood vampires were as restrained as Lincoln.
He smiled, revealing sharp teeth.
Her heart skipped a beat.
"Venturi.” A soft female voice reached her ears. The man holding her tensed and his eyes melted from black to an intense blue. He looked over his shoulder and shifted to the side.
She saw the owner of the voice. It was a young woman with dark red hair and milk white skin. The woman walked towards them and gave the man a reprimanding look. He released her arm. Lilith wondered if she'd been wrong about the Tenebrae and their master was a woman not a man.
The woman sighed and rolled her shoulders. She looked weary. Her hand touched the man's arm and his expression softened to reveal tender concern.
"She has come for the portal,” the woman said with a serene smile.
Lilith could sense great power in her. It didn't seem to come from her age. It was a different kind of power, similar to that of the three witches.
"Someone she loves is beyond it."
Her eyes widened. Could the woman read minds or had someone told her?
"Can you open the gate to Hell?” she said, stepping forwards and ignoring the way the man turned sharply to face her. She wasn't about to attack him and she got the impression that the woman wouldn't let him attack her anyway.
"I can try,” the woman said. She raised her hand and stared at her palm.
Lilith turned when she heard the sharp click of heels on the stone floor. Another man was approaching, this one taller than the first. He had dark hair and noble features. His green eyes bore into her, assessing her with a quick scan. He was strong too.
He growled and his eyes switched for a second, revealing lapis blue. An Aurorea? What was an Aurorea doing with these Tenebrae?
The man's hand caught the woman's arm and the other man backed off a step. She could sense tension between the three. When she looked at the woman again, she was looking up into the Aurorea's eyes, a smile tilting her lips.
"What is a human doing here?” he said in a dark tone.
Obviously, he didn't like her kind. She wondered if she should mention that she wasn't wholly human. The woman continued to smile into the Aurorea's eyes and raised a hand towards him. Her fingers stroked his cheek and then a set of bite marks on his neck.
Was there something happening between them? Between an Aurorea and a Tenebrae?
"She wants me to open the gate.” The woman lowered her hand. “I have said I would, if Venturi will let me. This is his home after all. It's not my place to overrule any decision he might make."
Lilith looked at the blond man again. He was definitely a Tenebrae. From the way the woman had spoken, she got the impression that the woman wasn't.
"You are not strong enough,” the Aurorea said. The concern in his voice was touching. It reminded Lilith of Lincoln and brought tears to her eyes.
"I do not think it wise,” the man named Venturi said.
She looked at the woman. The woman stepped forward and it clicked in Lilith's mind who she was.
"You're the girl Lincoln told me about, the one mixed up in a prophecy."
The woman nodded. “It's over now. I am Lady Prophecy of Caelestis. These two men who are trying to deny your request but are going to find my powers of persuasion irresistible are Lord Venturi of Tenebrae and Lord Valentine of Aurorea. We were expecting Law Keepers, not a human girl."
"Will you let me through the gate? I have to get to Lincoln."
Prophecy nodded again. “I'll do my best."
"I said you are not strong enough,” Valentine said and grabbed her arm.
Prophecy looked up at him.
"Then lend me your strength, my love,” she said and then turned to face Venturi. “And lend me yours too."
The men looked at each other, their frowns telling Lilith that they although they weren't going to deny Prophecy's request, they weren't happy with both sharing their strength with her. Were they jealous of one another? It was amusing to see two vampires at odds like this. She'd expected them to be less human. It even managed to take her mind off Lincoln for a split second.
Her thoughts returned to him and her heart ached. She had to see if he'd survived. Either she was going to find him with his spirit intact, or she was about to walk right up to the Devil and announce the fact that she was his intended bride.
She followed Prophecy through the room to a raised platform. The men took hold of Prophecy's left hand and Lilith moved to one side to get a better view. She'd never seen someone perform magic before. She wondered if it would be as fantastical as it was in the movies.
Prophecy raised her right hand and tilted it so her palm was facing outwards towards the wall. Her eyes closed and she frowned. Her jaw tensed and she leaned forwards as though whatever she was doing, it was taking considerable effort.
A flicker of purple light emanated from her palm. It grew into a series of threads that wound around her fingers. Lilith stepped closer, fascinated. The purple light gathered into a disc in front of Prophecy's palm, flat to it around an inch away. Symbols glowed on its surface, chased by intricate lines.
In a blinding flash, the disc had shot forwards, growing to immense size, and a shimmering purple portal had appeared where the wall had once been.
"Hurry,” Prophecy whispered. “I must close it again before any come through. We will wait a day and then reopen it for you to return."
Lilith looked at her. Written across her face was the tremendous effort it was taking to use the magic. The two men holding her hand looked paler than before. Lilith ran towards the portal, gripping her sword tightly. She didn't know what would be on the other side. It didn't matter. She had to get to Lincoln.
"Give my regards to Lincoln,” Prophecy said just as Lilith leapt into the wavering purple disc.
All sound disappeared. Darkness closed in around her. It was hard to breathe. She held onto her sword, clutching it close to her chest as she spiralled through the vast empty nothing. A light appeared in the distance and places began to zoom by. Where was she going? Far ahead of her, the sky glowed fiery orange. Was that her destination?
She zoomed through place after place, the scenery constantly changing. She couldn't make any of it out. It was nothing but a blur.
She shrieked when she fell out of the sky and landed harshly on rocky ground.
A stifling heat surrounded her. Her throat was parched, her mouth so dry that she couldn't even wet her cracked lips. Her eyes felt as though they had a million tiny grains of sand in them, making them sore and painful.
An acrid stench filled her nostrils and she coughed, trying to expel it from her lungs while attempting to get her bearings at the same time. Looking at her surroundings, she found herself staring at a gatehouse. Its two towers were crumbling in ruin, the stones charred and black as midnight. Her eyes followed it up to the incredible height at which the towers stopped. Each of them was a tall as a skyscraper, their dark stones punctuated by windows of glowing orange light.
She watched as each of these lights flickered, a shadow obscuring them as something descended.
Hurriedly looking around her, she found that there was nowhere for her to run to. A vast plain of volcanic rock stretched out behind her. A path wound in amongst the patches of unstable cracked ground. It was seeping lava. Gasses escaped small holes in the field, breaking the silence as they hissed.
In the distance, she could only see blackness. The field and the path disappeared into the gloom of the cavern and made her wonder just what lay back there.
Was it any safer than what lay ahead?
She felt a presence behind her.
Turning slowly, she kept her eyes fixed on the floor. They widened when they stopped on three pairs of brown boots.
She knew what she'd see if she raised her eyes and she wasn't sure if she really wanted to go through with it. She wanted to close her eyes and pretend they weren't there, hoping they would go away if she couldn't see them. She couldn't survive another fight, and definitely not another fight with an angel. She was still too weak.
Gradually raising her head, she offered a nervous smile to them as they stared at her.
They were as tall as the first one she'd met, if not taller. The one in the middle stood prouder than the others, its back straight and a spear held tightly in its hand. Their wings were white, their armour gleaming in the firelight. They were beautiful. Were they evil like the other one she'd met?
She didn't know what she was supposed to do.
If she spoke, would they speak back?
"Hi,” she said with a wide, high beam smile that seemed to catch them off guard because they looked at one another with a very curious expression on all their faces. “I don't suppose you've seen a vampire around here? About so high, dark hair, good looking?"
Her smile didn't hold. It wavered on her lips as her nerves took over.
The angel in the middle stood to one side and held his arm out, pointing towards a gate between the two towers.
"Through there, huh?” she said and then swallowed hard. Something told her she'd be no safer through that gate than she was out here with the angels.
She ventured forth, holding her sword so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She didn't need to see to know the three angels were following her. She could sense them behind her. Reaching the gate, she stopped and took a deep breath. It burned her lungs and she coughed. What was on the other side of this wall? Did she really want to go through there?
Her heart said that she did. Lincoln was on the other side. She reached out with her senses, hoping to feel the connection but fearing she'd feel nothing. The barest threads of feelings came back to her. Was that a good thing? She'd sensed his spirit when he'd been out of his body. What if that was all she was sensing now? Her fear pounded down on her, making it impossible to move.
The angel that had pointed the way moved past her and pushed the solid black gate. It swung open. Her eyes widened at the scene in front of her. There was a long slope down towards a red river that smelt of blood. The ground was stained crimson and littered with grey feathers. She stepped forwards and saw the bodies of angels lining the slope. Standing over the bodies were angels like the three who had greeted her.
She turned to the one beside her.
"Oh God, you're good ones aren't you?"
He raised an eyebrow and she realised it was probably due to her blasphemy. She gave him an apologetic smile.
"Are you good?"
He nodded and pointed again.
She looked back towards the river and saw the crumpled heap on the floor.
Lincoln.
Her heart almost stopped.
Before she could even think about the possible dangers, she was running to him. She fell to her knees beside him and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him onto his back. His eyes remained closed. She bit her lip and hot tears spilled in quick succession down her cheeks when she realised she could sense him. He was still in his body. The Devil had failed.
She leaned over and covered his body with hers, holding him as best she could. Her sobs came thick and fast, stealing her breath away. She clung to him, relief blossoming inside her. He moved and she frowned. Pain rocked her to her core, making her cry out in anguish. She screwed her eyes shut and fought against it. It wasn't her pain. It was Lincoln's.
Sitting up, she looked him over and realised that he was severely injured. Her hands fluttered over every wound she could see. There were so many, most of them deep and caked with blood. Now that she was aware of his injuries, she could sense how weak he was. She touched his cheek. He was freezing.
Gathering his limp form into her arms, she cried against his neck. Despair filled her and she didn't have the strength to fight it. She pressed a kiss to his dirty neck and then stopped dead when she realised what she had to do. He needed blood. It didn't matter how weak she was. She had to feed him.
Shifting him into a sitting position, she held onto him and made sure her throat was clear. She looked at him, sensing he was still in there and that he needed her. She had to do this.
A distant roar made her instinctively shrink as much as possible. The ground beneath her trembled, sending a shiver through her. A deep booming voice, too loud in her ears for her to understand, filled the world.
She knew who owned that voice. She didn't care. The contract was broken. Lincoln belonged to no one but her.
She raised her arm up, forcing him close to her, and positioned his mouth at her neck. Her heart thundered, threatening to burst through her chest. She could do this.
"Drink, Lincoln,” she whispered to him.
She would give all of herself if it meant he came back to her, every last drop of her blood.
He moved in her arms and his lips brushed her neck. She took hold of his hand and brought it up to her mouth. Her hands trembled as she held his, staring at the blood on it and feeling him suck her neck, a precursor to his bite. She had to be sure that she'd come back from this. If he went too far and killed her, she had to make sure that she'd become his child. The thought no longer frightened her. To have eternity with him was worth any price.
She screamed as his teeth punctured her flesh, digging deep. He growled and she felt the hunger stir inside him. Her fingers tightened around his wrist and she brought it to her lips, knowing she didn't have much time. She closed her mouth over the wound on his arm and sucked hard, swallowing down all the blood she could and resisting her desire to throw it up.
Lincoln's arms closed around her like steel bands and he pushed her onto her back, his body pressing hard into hers. His arm fell away from her mouth and she closed her eyes, her desire to be sick quickly chased away by the intensity of his kiss.
She could feel the hunger behind it and the desire. There was love too and a hint of recognition of who she was. She held him close, keeping her feelings calm so he would continue. He bit deeper.
She leaned her head back and moaned at the canopy of black above them. It didn't compare to being bitten on the arm. Her nipples hardened and her groin throbbed. She bit her lower lip and wriggled against him, rubbing her thighs together as sweet arousal filled her. She wanted more. Her fingers dug into his hair, holding him against her neck. He growled and it rumbled through her, sending a shockwave along her nerve endings.
The world wavered above her and she closed her eyes. Lincoln drank deeper, drawing the blood from her and igniting liquid fire in her veins in its place. She held onto him, knowing what was happening as her heart faltered but unwilling to stop him. He needed more in order to survive. If he didn't, she knew he would've stopped by now.
A sense of calm filled her, a tranquil peace that made her feel as though she was floating on the night.
Her breath shortened.
"Lincoln...” she whispered against his ear. It was hard to speak but there were some things that she needed to tell him now while she had the chance. “A portal will open near here ... a female vampire ... of the prophecy ... on the other side..."
Her chest tightened and she tensed against Lincoln. She couldn't die yet. She had to tell him something first. He bit down harder, pulling on her blood and filling her with excruciating pain.
Her nails dug into his arms, her eyebrows furrowing as panic finally took over. Her legs thrashed against him, moving of their own will. She tried to prise him off her, her instincts forcing her to protect herself in a last ditch attempt to hold onto life. Her breathing quickened until she became dizzy.
She desperately tried to calm herself, not wanting to make Lincoln stop now. If he continued, death would be swift. If he stopped, there was a chance he'd try to save her again and would draw out her death. It was impossible though. Every nerve ending was alight with the pain and the fear. It was eating her alive, burning inside her until all she could do was act on instinct. Her instinct told her to struggle and break free, to escape even when she knew it wasn't possible.
It was only a matter of time now.
Not minutes but seconds.
She could feel it coming. The faltering of her heart and how hard it was to draw air into her lungs said that this was it.
This was the end of her life.
"Lincoln...” She had to tell him before she died.
He stopped drinking for a moment, as though he'd heard her or perhaps he'd sensed that death was coming for her.
She squeezed her eyes shut and a tear rolled down the side of her face.
"I love you."
Lincoln opened his eyes when he stepped out into the room on the other side of the portal. He looked down at Lilith where she lay in his arms, her eyes closed and face peaceful. A single tear spilt onto his cheek. Why hadn't he stopped sooner? Why hadn't she stopped him?
"Lincoln,” a woman said and he raised his head to search out the owner of the voice. It was the woman who had healed him when he'd been hiding in Prague. He held her gaze. Her eyes fell to Lilith, her smile faded and her voice grew quiet. “What have you done?"
He looked down at Lilith again and held her tighter. His heart ached and darkened. What had he done? He'd fought hard to survive this so he could be with her, and instead he'd killed her. She'd rescued him and he'd murdered her in thanks.
"I needed blood and she gave it to me ... I should have stopped when I knew she was weakening but I needed more. What have I done?” Another tear spilled onto his cheek. It dashed off it and fell onto her cheek. His eyebrows furrowed. He looked at Prophecy. “Can you bring her back? I didn't give her blood."
Prophecy's look turned solemn and she shook her head. “I don't have that power, and even if I could, I don't think I could bring her to life. A zombie maybe ... but I will never do something like that."
He closed his eyes and buried his face into Lilith's neck, cradling her close to him.
"I didn't give her blood,” he whispered into her hair. He could have had eternity with her if only he'd been sensible enough to realise before it was too late that she was dying. He'd killed her.
His heart warmed and feelings spread through him. Love, tenderness, concern. None of them were his. His were all darkness, anger and regret. He frowned when Lilith moved and her hand weakly touched his cheek. Was he dreaming?
It was too good to be true. It had to be a dream or a cruel trick his heart was playing.
"I'm sorry ... I took your blood,” she whispered, her breath fanning his cheek, cool now like the rest of her.
He drew back and looked at her, staring down into her brown eyes. She managed a small smile and swallowed hard. He could sense pain in her now and fear. Her hand fell to her chest and she pressed it hard against herself. Her panic increased.
"Shh...” he whispered and knelt down with her, sitting her on the stone floor and supporting her back. He took hold of the hand that she'd pressed against her chest. “It will all be fine. You are just adjusting to your new life."
Her breathing quickened and the panic reached her eyes. They went wide, showing all the white around her dark irises. He tightened his grip on her hand and brought it to his chest. He pressed the flat of her palm against the spot over his heart and then pressed his against hers.
"See ... we are alike now. You do not need a heartbeat to be alive. Don't you feel alive, my love?"
She nodded but he felt no change in her fear. He had to soothe her, to ease her into this new world she'd bravely entered for his sake.
"You gave your life for me,” he whispered and moved his hand to her face, holding her cheek. He stared into her eyes, hoping she could sense all the love that made him feel and the happiness. “I promised you once that I would be a good sire to you. I will, Lilith. I will help you through this difficult time."
She nodded and tears cascaded down her cheeks. He wiped them away, still holding her gaze.
"I love you, Lilith."
Her smile returned more fully this time and he felt her fear subside a little.
"I love you too ... I feel sick."
He rubbed her back with his hand, moving his knee so it supported her.
"It will pass,” he said with a smile of his own. “Focus on me Lilith. Can you feel everything I do?"
She frowned and then nodded, her eyes remaining wide. Her fear decreased again. He knew firsthand how overwhelming the transformation into a vampire could be. The human mind was fragile. She would have sleepless days for months to come. He would be there for her through it all, through the weeks of adjusting and relearning herself to the time when she executed her first kill and the Hunger took hold. He would help her make it through. He would be a good sire to her. The bond between them would make it easier for her to adjust. She would know his feelings for her. If they completed the mating, she would hear his thoughts and be able to sense him over a greater distance and without trying.
He took hold of her hand again, bringing it away from his chest.
He gave a grateful glance to Prophecy when she knelt beside Lilith.
"You're doing wonderfully,” Prophecy said with a warm smile and then looked over her shoulder towards the two men he only knew by reputation as Venturi and Valentine. “My love is my ... well ... in a way he's my sire now. He is a good sire, just like Lincoln will be. Lincoln will see to it you want for nothing and will make the change more bearable. I never had a sire before. I was born half human."
Lilith perked up. “I was born part vampire."
Prophecy's smile widened, giving Lincoln the impression that the female Caelestis was starting to feel she'd found a new friend. It would be good for Lilith to have female companionship. He didn't know how long it would take Oneiric to find Eve. Perhaps Prophecy could help them both.
"Are you able to stand?” Prophecy said, her smile fading away.
Lilith nodded.
Lincoln frowned.
"Why...” He trailed off when his senses reached out and he realised that they weren't alone. He looked at Prophecy.
"What's that quaint human saying ... out of the frying pan, into the fire?” she said.
"Law Keepers,” he whispered.
She nodded and stood, stepping to one side to reveal the seven vampires waiting near the back of the room. He helped Lilith to her feet and put his arm around her, keeping her close to him. His sin for loving her had been erased but he had still broken other laws.
A click of heels on stone, swift and confident, made him look away from Lilith.
The Law Keeper for Vehemens, Eduard, walked towards him. Lincoln stood his ground, increasing his grip on Lilith. She turned away from the Law Keeper and buried her face in his neck, moving closer to him. He could sense her fear. She knew the threat this man posed.
"Lincoln Vehemens, Chosen Son of Vehemens, I hereby charge you with conspiring against your bloodline and revealing the existence of our kind to humans. You will accompany us to court where your case will be heard and your sentence decided."
He stared hard at the man, showing him that he wasn't frightened. Walking down the steps with Lilith and Prophecy, he kept his eyes locked with the Law Keeper's and then turned away from him.
"I take it you will be accompanying us?” he said to Prophecy. She shrugged and smiled.
"It seems the price to pay when you save the world,” she said and walked over to Venturi and Valentine, her arm slipping through the taller dark haired man's. Valentine he presumed.
There was a bond between them. They would have a hard time convincing the Law Keepers of their innocence now. Dissolution of the bloodlines was one of the worst sins to commit. It was certain death.
He walked with Lilith to them and then followed them out into the night where a van was waiting. He curled a lip at it and noticed the two other men do the same. It was hardly transport worthy of their status.
Prophecy looked back at him as the heavy metal doors opened and Venturi and Valentine stepped in. He was about to ask her how she intended to escape her charges and death when she stepped into the van too and the opportunity passed. He helped Lilith up the steps and then followed her in.
He froze near the doors and looked at the man directly opposite him, slouched on the padded bench seat across the back of the van's cab.
The man smiled winsomely.
His power was just as incredible as he'd heard.
"Lord Hyperion,” he whispered and bowed his head.
The man laughed, revealing partially extended canines. “The very same. Come, come. It is time to go to court. I am sorry I could not attend the reunion inside. I was assisting a certain young lady and her mate. It would not be good to have a mixed species couple caught by the Law Keepers."
Lincoln sat down beside Lilith and drew her close to him, his arm around her shoulders. She curled up and fell asleep again. It would take her a few days to regain enough energy to stay awake for any period of time. He would stay as close as possible to her during that time, but it might be impossible given where they were being taken.
"A pretty young thing,” Hyperion said with an even wider smile. He sniffed. “Newly turned and claimed."
Lincoln held her closer. “Claimed and then newly turned."
Hyperion's eyebrow rose. “Interesting. Another half blood."
Lincoln returned his attention to Lilith, checking she was alright and was calm. She felt calm. She was lost in a deep slumber. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against hers when the van began to move. It would be a long journey to the court.
Now that Hyperion was among those arrested, there was a chance the charges against him could be reversed. He needed to think about what he was going to tell them. The truth he supposed. He pressed a kiss to Lilith's hair and let sleep take him.
Lilith's head still ached. It had been three days since her turning and she wasn't feeling any better. She was hungry, disorientated and tired. She was also very snappish. She growled at the man who prodded her in the back, shoving her towards the centre of the room. It was a pit enclosed by a circular wall. She was eye level with the top of the wall and frowned at all the faces staring down at her from above. In the pit with her were the Law Keepers. Each of them stood in front of the spot where their respective lord or lady sat high above. She recognised some of the faces. There was the woman who'd made the portal and her two men. There was another man with rich violet eyes and a smile that made her want to blush. For some reason she recognised him. Had he been in the van too? A rotund man and a slim female occupied the other two seats. She didn't know them.
Lincoln came in behind her and the door slid shut. The man who'd prodded her went over to a space in the line up of Law Keepers and she noticed that the seat above him was empty. Mikael. She'd killed him. She remembered that now.
She looked at Lincoln, wondering if he knew. He stepped closer to her, his hand slipping into hers and holding it tightly. He was surprisingly calm. She latched onto those steady feelings within him and used them as a barrier to keep her fear at bay.
"Lincoln Vehemens, you are accused of conspiracy against your bloodline and revelation of the existence of vampires to humans. What do you say in response to these charges?” The Law Keeper that had prodded her looked as cold and distant as he'd always done. None of them seemed to have emotions. She scanned the line up. Not even the women showed a trace of feeling. Their black uniforms made them appear sinister and even colder than their personalities. The long jacket with stand-up collar was similar to the clothing that the lords above were wearing. The black material was decorated with intricate silver embroidery around the collar, buttons and cuffs. She screwed her eyes shut, stifled a yawn, and looked at the Vehemens Law Keeper again.
She listened while Lincoln related everything that had happened, growing more tired by the minute. She'd been rudely awoken from sleep by the Law Keeper. He was lucky she hadn't bitten his arm off.
When Lincoln had finished his report, he squeezed her hand. She looked up at him, groggy and only half aware of what was happening.
She yawned.
He smiled. There was so much happiness in it, and in him. She could sense his feelings so much clearer now. She barely had to reach out with her senses at all to know what he was feeling.
"There is no basis for me to stand trial,” he said and turned to the room. There was a murmur amongst the gathered people. He was so strong and brave. She'd never seen him so defiant and confident. “My bloodline conspired against me so I sought help from a half-blood Vehemens to defeat this conspiracy and to prevent my own death and the birth of the antichrist. The half-blood is now a full-blooded Vehemens and my child and mate. I sought assistance from her father, and her sister is also a Vehemens caught up in another conspiracy. I never revealed the existence of vampires to those who did not already know of it. Pass judgement on me if you will. I have committed no sin."
Silence. It was ominous and ate away at Lilith.
She scanned the faces of those looking down on them. The lords and ladies. They were all powerful and all of different ages. She stifled another yawn when the female who'd opened the portal for her looked in her direction. It was probably rude to be yawning in front of such important people. She'd never realised how tired dying would make her. She felt as though she could spend eternity sleeping.
"The circumstances are certainly unique,” the man with purple eyes said.
"Lincoln did not reveal himself to any who did not already know of our kind. The half-blood female was a vampire hunter.” Prophecy smiled down at her.
She got the impression the woman liked her.
"To seek aid from your kin to protect yourself against a plot to kill you is not conspiracy in itself. He had broken no law. What say you, Venturi?” Valentine said and glanced at the man in question.
She looked at him, watching long fingers push the tendrils of dirty blond hair from his face. He looked positively bored. “No law indeed. I see no reason to execute this man and his chosen mate. Timur, Rosea?"
The two she didn't recognise nodded in agreement.
Everyone looked at the empty seat. She looked at the man with the purple eyes. He was powerful. It was almost overwhelming to be so close to him. The man turned to face them.
"Who was responsible for Mikael's death?” he said to Lincoln.
Lincoln's expression was blank.
Lilith sheepishly raised her hand. Lincoln's eyes widened.
"Lady Lilith, what say you? Guilty or no?” the man said.
She swallowed hard and turned sharply to face him. Lady? Her eyes went wider than Lincoln's.
"I ... don't understand ... I'm sorry.” She stared at the man.
He smiled and leaned forwards. “Leadership of a bloodline passes on death of the master. If one outside that bloodline kills them, it passes to the Chosen Son. If one of that bloodline is responsible, it passes to that person."
She was stunned and suddenly very awake.
"You mean I rule a bloodline?"
He laughed and nodded.
She didn't know what he found so funny. It was a hard enough struggle to get used to being a vampire, let alone learning to rule a whole bloodline. Fear pounded down on her heart and panic set in.
Lincoln's fingers brushed her cheek.
She turned to look at him.
"It's too much ... I don't think I can ... I don't want it,” she said with hope in her voice.
"It is law,” the man said and she got the feeling that the law was inflexible. He stood and looked at everyone before speaking again. “Lincoln Vehemens, you have spoken truth here tonight. Your sentence will be decided when Lady Lilith states her verdict."
Lilith swallowed and looked into Lincoln's eyes. “Of course he isn't guilty."
He smiled at her, sensual mouth bowing into it and making her weak inside. She wanted to kiss him when he looked like that, wanted to run her fingers over his naked flesh and marvel at his strength. She smiled too. She had eternity to discover all about him now. Her smile faded when she remembered what the man had said. She ruled the Vehemens bloodline. It turned her stomach to think about it.
Lincoln's hand on her arm roused her from her thoughts. She realised that the others had left.
"Come,” he said and led her towards the exit.
She followed him in silence, her thoughts crowding her mind and making it impossible to speak. There had been so much to think about and understand before. Now it was overwhelming.
When she raised her head again, they were outside. The night air washed over her, soothing her mind enough for her to speak what was at the forefront of it.
"Where are we going?"
Lincoln smiled again.
"Home."
Lilith awoke from a pleasant dream to realise that the car she was in had stopped and it showed no sign of moving again. She curled up further against Lincoln, not wanting to see where they were. She just wanted to continue sleeping. Never in her life had she felt so tired.
"Welcome home,” Lincoln said in her ear, quiet and husky.
She didn't want to look. The idea of being the leader of a bloodline disturbed her but there was no way out of it. She had killed Mikael. In the eyes of the law, she had taken his title from him.
"I can't do this,” she said into Lincoln's chest, hiding in his arms. “I really can't. I don't even know myself yet. I'm not strong enough to lead them and I wouldn't know where to start. It's one thing to be with you and be like you, but I don't think I can be responsible for all that death!"
His fingers stroked her upper arm, soothing her. She buried her face harder into his neck and clung to him. She was barely a few days old in vampire terms. She hadn't even had her first taste of blood. The thought of it turned her stomach. Lincoln had offered his to her when they'd been in the cell at the court, but she hadn't been able to face it. Her stomach ached. It wouldn't be long now before she wouldn't have a choice—she would have to feed. Lincoln had warned her as much. Newly turned vampires needed a lot of blood.
"Could you ever take control of it?” he said, dragging her out of her stomach churning thoughts.
She looked up at him. “Perhaps ... when I knew what I was doing and had learned to accept what I am."
He smiled, his dark eyes shining with it. “I am your Chosen Son. Yours to command. If you wish it, I will tend to the bloodline until you are ready to become their lady."
Relief filled her swift and sweet. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. His hands slid down to her sides, holding her waist as his lips played with hers. When she drew back, he was frowning again.
"You gave your life for me,” he whispered, giving her the impression that he was never going to get over the sacrifice she'd made.
"I love you ... and the thought of being without you frightened me. I wanted to be with you and I wanted you to live, and I realised that I was willing to do anything to make sure that happened. I need you."
He cupped her cheek with his hand and sighed.
"I love you more than anything, Lilith."
Her smile was brief, disappearing when she thought about where they were.
"Couldn't we go away for a while, until I get used to this new life? I don't think I can handle being around so many vampires right now. I just want it to be us."
He didn't say anything, just pressed a button on the door. The tinted window slid down with an electronic whirr.
Outside was a wooden cabin nestled amongst tall dark pines.
"The family home is smaller than I expected and far more remote,” she said with raised eyebrows and turned to face him. “Where are we?"
"Somewhere a lady can be alone with her mate for as long as she wants."
He opened the door and stepped out. She followed him and marvelled at her surroundings. The moon was high and fat, making the sky dark blue rather than black and drowning out most of the stars near it. It reflected off the wide lake to her left, its water black and foreboding, but beautiful at the same time. The mountains loomed up all around her, their snowy rocky caps piercing the heavens.
She looked at the cabin. It was small and had a long porch than ran along its length. The windows glowed warmly, inviting her in.
A sense of peace and happiness filled her.
"As long as I want?” she said to Lincoln. He smiled and took hold of her hand.
"As long as you want."
She frowned as the driver took his leave. When the car was gone, she looked at their surroundings again and then at Lincoln.
"What about supplies ... you know...” The thought of saying the word made her stomach flip and turn.
"Blood?” Lincoln said, emotionless.
She nodded.
"Anything we want will be brought to us."
She liked the sound of that. She wanted to spend eternity here with Lincoln, wrapped up snug in their little cabin. He led her towards it and for the first time since becoming a vampire, she wasn't frightened. She looked at Lincoln and he smiled at her. He looked so happy. He felt so happy. She knew he'd be a good sire just as he'd promised her. He'd take care of her now, even more so than he would have done had she remained human.
A smile curved her lips.
"Can we stay here until my father contacts us to tell us he's found Eve?” she said and Lincoln nodded.
"Anything my lady wishes,” he said with another wide smile.
She touched the marks on her neck. She still couldn't believe the things she'd done since meeting him or the fact that she'd let him turn her. It was worth it though, to see the smile on his face and feel his hand in hers.
She stopped dead and frowned. A strange compulsion filled her, a desire to do something she had only been able to dream of before.
"Is something wrong?” Lincoln said and stepped up to her.
She looked into his eyes. “I have an incredible urge to bite you."
He laughed and put his arm around her. “That would be the claim. It wants us to mate and seal the bond between us."
"Mate?” she said with a single raised eyebrow. It did sound interesting. “And this would make us more exclusive?"
"It would link us in mind, heart and spirit, and it is unbreakable."
She grinned. She liked the sound of that. The chance to make Lincoln hers and hers alone for eternity was one she wasn't going to turn down.
"Lincoln Vehemens,” she said in a mock Transylvanian accent. “I want to bite your neck!"
She lunged for it but he caught her around the waist, laughing as he scooped her up into his arms. His lips closed around a point on her neck and, as he gave a gentle suck, she realised it was where he'd bitten before. She closed her eyes and relaxed into his arms, her head falling back and her mouth opening in a silent sigh.
This she could get used to.
She smiled at the moon as Lincoln carried her towards the cabin.
The night called to her.
She opened her heart to it and listened to the comforting words it spoke.
The message was clear.
Eternity was theirs.
The End
Felicity Heaton, who writes under both her real name and F E Heaton, has been interested in all things preternatural since she was just a child. She used to while away days at school and college dreaming of vampires, werewolves and witches, and used to while away evenings watching movies about them or reading gothic horror stories and romances.
Having tried her hand at various romance genres, it was only natural for her to turn her passion back on the paranormal. She loves to write vampires, werewolves and witches, and makes no excuses for how brutal they can be. She writes them as they are: merciless hunters—seductive, sexy and strong. They're vicious, dark and dangerous, but, at the same time, they love, they laugh and they feel every emotion as strongly as anyone. She says that this is their world; she's just honoured to write down their adventures.
To see her other novels, visit:
www.felicityheaton.co.uk
or visit the official Vampires Realm website:
www.vampiresrealm.com
Other stories in the Vampires Realm series:
Prophecy: Child of Light [book 1]
A girl unlike any other girl, a vampire unlike any other vampire, Prophecy lives life in the dark until the night she breaks the rules. Leaving the family mansion to hunt for the first time, she encounters Valentine, a vampire from her family's enemy and a man who will change her life forever.
Suddenly at the centre of a prophecy, she is kidnapped by Valentine, the man who should have been her executioner, and forced to run with him in order to save herself. Required to work together, the tension between them builds as a dark evil threatens to destroy the world, their families and the Law Keepers attempt hunt them down, and Prophecy discovers that her feelings for Valentine control her new found power.
When the truth about her is revealed, will Prophecy be strong enough? Will they discover a way to save the world from Hell? And will they finally see past the hatred bred into them by their families and surrender to their love?
The first of the Vampires Realm novels being written by five star author F E Heaton, Prophecy: Child of Light, is part one in an epic tale of love and war that is sure to capture your heart and leave you craving more.
Prophecy: Caelestis & Aurorea [book 2]
The final battle draws closer. Prophecy's world becomes darker and more dangerous, pushing her to the limit and testing her strength and her heart, almost breaking her. Old friends turn their backs, leaving her to fight with the help of an unlikely ally and forcing her to call on the devastatingly seductive and powerful Lord Hyperion for assistance.
Struggling to rescue Valentine from the malicious hands of her blood brother, Arkalus and the lord of Aurorea, Kalinor, Prophecy discovers just how powerful she is and how far people will go to stop her from fulfilling her destiny. Lives are lost, battles are won, and the scroll foretelling the prophecy is finally completed, but nothing can prepare them for what lies ahead.
When her visions show her the path that must be taken, will Prophecy be able to do what is necessary? Are Prophecy and Valentine ready to command the power they'd never thought would be theirs? And are they strong enough to fight the evil of their true enemy?
Following on from Prophecy: Child of Light, the tension rises and love grows in Prophecy: Caelestis & Aurorea, a thrilling second part to this story that draws you into a dark, dangerous world of vampires, magic and the war to end all wars.
Prophecy: Dark Moon Rising [book 3]
An enemy with unimaginable power and bloodlines with centuries of hatred bred into them, two things that threaten to tear Prophecy and Valentine apart as they fight for their lives and their future together. Their vain attempt to join their houses into one army drains the last of their strength, leaving them more vulnerable than they've ever been. The tension escalates between the bloodlines, and, more dangerously, between Valentine, Prophecy and Venturi.
As everything crumbles around them, defeat seems inevitable. In one decisive move, their enemy turns the tables against them, taking what is most important to Prophecy and leaving her to fear that the terrifying visions she's been having are coming true. An enemy becomes a friend, guiding her in her time of need, and a friend becomes an enemy. Death, destruction and danger surround her, but the help of an old ally brings her the army she needs and the dark moon brings her the power to fight the legions of Hell.
When the time comes, will Prophecy be able to do what's necessary or will the sacrifice she must make be too painful to go through with? Does she have the strength to stop Hell from being unleashed into the world and save the ones she loves at the same time?
The dramatic conclusion to the Prophecy story, Prophecy: Dark Moon Rising is a gripping tale of love and war that will take hold of you, set your heart racing and not let you go until the very last page.