Christ. The dream has changed again, Leo thought, and then he spotted them.
Alasdair was standing in the corner of the room looking as handsome as ever in full black tails. Directly behind him stood Vasilios. They were so close they had to be touching, and from the smug expressions stretched across both their faces, they were enjoying the contact.
"There. See him? The Duke of Essex. He's looking very dashing tonight, and every time he passes, his eyes stray to you, agóri. Not that I can blame him. You’re so very handsome in your evening wear."
Leo could tell by the way Vasilios’s eyes tracked the man across the room that he was on the hunt, and he was more than enjoying using Alasdair as the bait. It was clear by the way Vasilios stroked a hand over Alasdair’s shoulder, drawing the Duke’s eye that he delighted in having others look at Alasdair and want him.
It was as if the fact that they found his possession appealing pleased him. But Leo also sensed that, if anyone dared to touch without his permission, they would likely lose their hand. Or their life.
"Are you sure you don't wish to go back to our room and—"
"You are hungry," Vasilios said. "You need to eat."
"I can wait."
"No, you have waited long enough. You must stop doing that. Testing yourself."
Alasdair scoffed. "It's hardly a test, Vasilios. I have been doing it for centuries. I am merely more selective than you.“
"Yes, but it seems so unnecessary when there is food readily available."
“I know. But you spoiled me from the first. After tasting you, only something special will tempt me.”
As the duke wandered by the two of them, he dipped his head in Alasdair’s direction, and when the corner of Alasdair's lip curved up and his eyes glowed, the redheaded man straightened his shoulders like a proud peacock.
As he continued by, not wanting to appear conspicuous, Alasdair said softly, “I suppose he will do.”
Vasilios raised the glass in his hand and took a long sip before he said, “So enthusiastic. You can always add a bit of excitement yourself, agóri. Tease him. Then take him. I’ll wait here. Don't be long. I suddenly have a different hunger I wish to satisfy."
Alasdair grinned, and Leo caught the tips of his fangs before he shut his mouth and followed the duke outside.
Present Day—Alasdair’s Bedchambers
ALASDAIR APPEARED IN his bedchambers and dropped Leo onto the king-size mattress in the center. He didn’t want to leave him there unsupervised, especially with all the shit going down. But what other choice did he have? He wasn’t going to take him to the Assembly Hall, where he could feel the Ancients were gathered, and that was where he needed to go.
He slung Thanos’s arm over his shoulder and gave a final look at the man on his bed. With any luck, he’d remain passed out, or wherever the fuck he was, until he returned. Until then, he needed to get Thanos to the Ancients. If anyone could hope to heal his cousin, they could.
He faded them from his room to the Hall, and they appeared rather ungracefully. Thanos, a ragged mess, clung to him as he staggered to stay on his feet.
Eton winced as he stood. He had the same fair complexion as Thanos and was tall like him, but where his first sired was more muscular, Eton was lithe in frame. When his eyes zoomed in on the vampire Alasdair held propped up by his side, the shared pain their kind felt when their progeny was close to death was evident in his stance and expression.
Before Alasdair could begin to explain, Eton was at their side.
“I sensed something had happened but did not understand the severity. What is wrong with him?” he demanded, concern shining in the Ancient’s eyes.
Just like he and Vasilios were dark in their coloring and nature, Thanos and Eton shared those same boyishly handsome features. Since they were charmers of both men and women, it was shocking to see Thanos so sickly and Eton so serious.
As the Ancient knelt down by Thanos’s side, Alasdair wondered for the first time how the others would react should one of the three die. Was the concern in Eton’s eyes for Thanos? Or his own safety?
“I don’t know what happened, exactly.” Alasdair glanced over at Vasilios, who was currently rounding the end of the podium and moving towards him. “I wasn’t there,” he admitted, and then he looked to the third in the room—Diomêdês.
He knew what he had to say next, and he didn’t relish the reaction it was going to evoke. But he locked eyes with the third Ancient and stated loud enough to be heard, “Isadora—she is gone.”
Diomêdês glared at him, his eyes changing to obsidian, and before Alasdair could blink, Vasilios was standing between the two of them, warding off Isa’s sire with bared fangs.
“Step off, Diomêdês.”
“Move aside, Vasilios.”
Vasilios hissed and spat at the male glaring over his shoulder, and Alasdair knew that, if his Ancient hadn’t been standing there, he would be dead on the floor.
Diomêdês’s anger was clouding his common sense. All he was aware of was what he was pulling from Alasdair’s mind—his first sired was gone, and he had been the one to let her go.
“If you kill him,” Vasilios said, “you lose any kind of lead you may have. Not to mention I won’t let you end his life, therefore ending my own. Think before you act, adelfe. Do you want that? To never see her again? Reach out to her. Can you feel her?”
While Vasilios tried to calm the rabid beast in front of him, Alasdair looked down at Eton, who was running a hand over Thanos’s hair, showing more concern than he’d thought their kind capable of in that moment.
“He doesn’t have much time,” Eton stated.
“I know,” Alasdair said as he crouched to look Eton in the eye. “His palm is fused in place. I cannot remove it to heal him. He was coherent before we faded. Told me it was a silver letter opener. So the amount is not much. It is the placement and the fusing that is killing him.”
Eton frowned, his features more adult than Alasdair had ever seen. Usually, he was the most carefree of the three, younger in spirit even though he was much, much older than his looks suggested. But right then he had a worried frown on his face as he tried to devise a way to work out the complication before him.
“We need to remove the hand so I can get to the wound.”
“But, to do that, you are going to tear the skin from his neck and possibly his face. And it’s so deep, I’m not sure that will heal.”
Eton grimaced and nodded. “I know. And he will hate me for it. But it will ensure his survival.”
“And your own,” Alasdair murmured. Then he looked into Eton’s troubled eyes, which were now focused on him.
“You are right. It will also ensure my own survival. That may be selfish, but do not deny you wouldn’t do the same.” Eton stood to his full height and addressed the two Ancients still facing off against one another. “If you two are quite done here, perhaps you could help me save Thanos so we can then go and find Isadora. It’s clear this war has begun, and we need to be on each other’s side, not going at one another’s throats like animals.”
Alasdair raised his eyes as Vasilios turned and looked down at him. No words were said out loud, but he heard inside his mind, Where is your yielding?
Alasdair didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. Vasilios’s expression already told him that he knew.
Leonidas Chapel didn’t know it yet, but when he woke, he would be a dead man walking.
1902—London, England
LEO FOLLOWED ALASDAIR as he tracked the duke out of the room. When he reached the far end of the maid’s hall, the duke glanced over his shoulder to make sure Alasdair was there—and he was.
Leo was right beside him, matching him step for step as he strode after the man. It was supremely odd to be next to someone who was completely unaware of his existence. But that was exactly what was happening. He was in Alasdair’s past, watching him like a moviegoer who’d bought tickets to a show.
The duke opened a door on the l
eft, and when he slipped through, a growl rumbled from the male beside him.
Damn, even in a fucking hallucination Alasdair is turning me on. That animal side of him, the side that was unlike anything he’d ever known, was both mystifying and tantalizing.
When they reached the door the duke had exited, Alasdair pushed it open and they both stepped out into the night air. The sky was jet black, and the air was cool. A pungent smell was being blown over, probably from the river in the far distance. They were on some kind of estate, standing in the shadows on the side of the main house.
Alasdair lifted his chin and closed his eyes. He was sniffing the air, searching for the man, and then he spun to the right.
Scent caught, Leo thought as he followed, his palms starting to sweat.
He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. It wasn’t like he was a part of this world, and Alasdair wasn’t a threat to him. But he was fascinated with what was about to happen—and dreading it.
As they made their way down the side of the house, he was surprised that no sound could be heard but the faint rush of water. They were walking over gravel, but his feet were making no sound, and Alasdair seemed to be gliding over it.
Those damn hunter moves of his. That stealth. It always helped with the surprise attack.
When they reached the end of the path, they stopped and Alasdair looked down the side of the house. Leo stepped around the corner, not worried in the least since he’d not been detected—and there he was.
The duke was leaning up against the side of the wall, one of his feet propped against the brick. After taking a draw from the cigar in his mouth, he blew the smoke out, and it curled up past his face before disappearing into the sky.
That low purr of Alasdair’s vibrated through the air again, and Leo couldn’t help himself from turning to look at the male beside him.
Alasdair was truly a sight to see.
His long hair was pushed back behind his ears, so Leo could see the strong line of his jaw and the arrogant tilt of his chin. The tip of his tongue came out to touch the corner of his lip, and when they parted slightly, his fangs descended.
Fuck me, Leo thought as a rush of air left him. That mouth had been on his earlier, finally devouring his in a way he’d only imagined, and he wanted it back. He reached out to touch Alasdair’s arm, needing his attention, even if it was the hunting, stalking kind, to be on him. But when he laid his hand on the sleeve of Alasdair’s jacket, he felt nothing, and neither did the vampire. He was one hundred percent focused on his prey, and his jaw began to twitch as though he were holding himself back.
Do it, Leo thought out of nowhere. It was clear Alasdair wanted this man, and suddenly, he wanted to see him take him. Do it.
As if he’d heard him, a whoosh of air ruffled his hair and Alasdair was over and in front of the duke in a flash—and Leo was quick to follow.
Present Day—Elias’s Office
ELIAS COULDN’T TEAR his eyes away from the woman—no, the female—bound to his chair. She looked terrible, which was hard to imagine of the Isadora he was accustomed to. This was a woman who’d captured his attention the first instant he’d seen her.
But that was before. Before his life had changed. And what he was seeing now was blowing his fucking mind.
Isadora was a vampire. Is, he corrected himself. She is a fucking vampire, and not just any vampire—she is the one.
“Although I’m flattered, I’m hardly thinking of you in the same light, Elias. But you needn’t look so startled. I think, if anyone should be appalled at all of this, it should be me. After all, I’m over two thousand years old and you managed to overpower me. How did you do that, by the way? Or are we going to sit here forever in saturnine silence?”
Elias ignored that she’d read his mind and instead replied, “I’m still digesting the idea that I was created to eliminate a mistake. And that mistake was you.”
“Excuse me. So, I’m a mistake?” Isadora asked, one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows arching. “I don’t seem to recall you thinking that when you would worship me on your knees for hours at a time. So why not cut the bullshit and tell me who sent you, Elias.”
Their eyes remained locked, and he caught a flicker of fear in their dark depths. Then he replied, “Someone more powerful than you.”
1902—London, England
ALASDAIR HAD THE man cornered before Leo could blink. So he jogged after him and moved up beside them to get a front-row seat to what was about to happen.
Although he knew Alasdair fed, likely on other humans, Leo had never seen him do it. Well, except for the image he’d once pushed into Leo’s mind that one time. But this…
This felt totally different.
Leo’s adrenaline pumped through him, and he wasn’t sure what exactly was driving him to feel the way he was.
The sensual way Alasdair stroked the back of his fingers down the man’s cheek? Or the way the man straightened against the brick wall, allowing Alasdair to move in closer?
Sex and arousal were swirling around them as effectively as the smoke from the cigar, and then the duke dropped it to the ground, forgotten. His cheeks were flushed, and when Leo looked down his body, a solid erection was outlined in the duke’s pants. It was obvious he was extremely attracted to Alasdair, who was now pressing their bodies firmly against one another. But if there’d been any doubt, the groan Leo heard when Alasdair placed his lips by the duke’s ear dispelled it in an instant. Alasdair hadn’t said anything yet, hadn’t even touched the man, really, but Leo had the distinct impression the duke was ready to come.
Not that I can blame him, Leo thought. Alasdair was a true creature of the night. He made a person want to do things and see things he’d never imagined, and Leo was hard just from watching him.
“I saw you tonight,” he whispered in the duke’s ear. “Watching me.”
The other man swallowed, and Leo wondered if he was nervous due to his arousal or because Alasdair gave off an overwhelming sense of danger. It was probably a heady combination of the two.
Alasdair’s tongue came out then and traced along the man’s jawline, and Leo heard his own breath catch.
“Is this what you were imagining when your eyes were greedily taking in every inch of me?”
The duke pushed his hips forward, making it clear which inches he was most interested in, and when Alasdair shoved him back and ground his hips over the man’s, Leo reached down to palm his own cock.
This was so wrong. He knew that, but he couldn’t stop himself.
Alasdair hummed and the noise seemed to stroke the nerve endings running along the length of Leo’s dick. Because, even though Alasdair wasn’t touching him, Leo felt as though that tongue and the hands now moving down to the duke’s pants were all on him.
“It must get so lonely living in town with the duchess. Especially when you prefer cock over cunt. Does she mind, I wonder? Does she know?”
The sounds of rustling material and heavy breathing were all that could be heard—until Alasdair got ahold of what he was after. The duke’s head fell back against the wall, and he jutted his pelvis out.
“Ahh…yes. It feels good, doesn’t it?” Alasdair cooed as he trailed his eyes over the exposed throat in front of him.
Leo’s eyes followed the same path, and he felt sorry for the man being so superbly manipulated—until he groaned again. Then Leo’s sympathy went out the window, and fierce jealousy shot through him instead. He hadn’t gotten this far with Alasdair, not once, and he was pissed off that he had to stand there and watch this.
“You are by far the most handsome man I have ever seen,” the duke confessed.
A seductive sound that could’ve been taken for humor left Alasdair as he put his lips to the base of the duke’s throat. Then the words, “Ne, I know,“ fell from Alasdair’s mouth. And without any more talk, Alasdair lifted his head and struck like a cobra.
He sank his teeth into the side of the duke’s neck, and a shout of agony came from the man who
, only seconds ago, had been groaning for other reasons entirely.
The sound of Alasdair sucking and growling as he pinned the man to the side of the building should’ve appalled him. Leo thought he would have been terrified, but instead, his dick got harder.
He couldn’t explain it, not if anyone had asked, but seeing this side of Alasdair was a hell of a turn on, and he wasn’t sure what that said about him.
Alasdair’s arm started moving, and Leo knew he was still stroking the duke’s shaft as he viciously fed from him. Blood stained the duke’s crisp, white shirt, and his shouts of pain changed to cries of confused pleasure.
Whatever horror had come from that initial bite had now altered into some kind of euphoric bliss. His eyes had rolled back, his hips were fucking against Alasdair, and he was drifting into a sweet, sweet death.
“Leonidas Chapel.”
The unfamiliar voice was like a lightning bolt to his brain. It pulled him from his trancelike state and had him spinning on his heel to see if anyone had followed him outside. But no, no one was there. And when he turned back to where Alasdair and the Duke had been standing, all he saw was darkness.
Leo’s erection subsided as fear of the unknown crept in. “Who’s there? Who are you?”
“Perhaps the question you should be asking is: Who are you?”
A splitting pain shot through his head, and then a flash of Alasdair appeared before his eyes—him and the duke, just as they’d been a second ago.
Then the screams started.
Loud, fearful cries into the night air.
Alasdair clamped a hand over the man’s mouth. The duke twisted and writhed against Alasdair, now realizing his life was coming to an end. Then Alasdair ripped his mouth away from his neck, brought both hands to the Duke’s cheeks, and tore his head right off his shoulders.