“Come on, wake up,” she whispered, and swiped at the moisture now streaking a line down her face.
How long had it been since she’d shed a tear?
Years? Decades? Centuries?
She couldn’t remember, but the fact she was now openly crying above this male told her one very sure thing. He’d brought back to life a piece of her she’d thought was long since buried. “You do not get to die before me, Elias Fontana. I have been here longer than you. It is my right to exit first and make you suffer the heartache.”
Her hand trembled as she touched her fingers to his lips, and in that moment she had the fleeting thought that if he were to go, if this male was to leave her side, she might not survive the loss. Because while Diomêdês was an integral part of her immortality, Elias was the humanity she’d thought was forever out of reach.
So with tears in her eyes, she called out to Diomêdês, and knew what she was about to ask was close to impossible, but worth the risk if it would bring Elias back to her.
“DIOMÊDÊS. I NEED you…”
Isadora’s call entered Diomêdês’s mind as he stood inside the Chamber with Vasilios, in the process of summoning the head vampires of each brood.
“Vasilios, I must take my leave. Isadora is calling me.”
Vasilios looked up from where he was seated on the throne upon the dais. “Is she in danger? Is it the third?”
“No. No. I do not feel any injury from her, but she sounds troubled.”
“Then you must go to her. We are almost done here, and the others will soon be joining us.”
Diomêdês nodded and got to his feet, but just before he faded from the Chamber, Vasilios said, “Be of care, brother. And should you need assistance…”
“I will not hesitate to call upon you.”
Vasilios inclined his head, and not a second later Diomêdês was spiriting away from the lair and heading to where he detected his first-sired’s presence. When he took full form, he’d expected to find himself in the Adjudication room, but instead found himself standing in a place he’d never been to before.
As he did a quick scan of the interior, he could feel his Isa there. Not only her presence, but her very essence. It was mixed in the molecules of the space along with Eton’s, Thanos’s, and that of the male he’d recently allowed into his bed—Elias.
“Diomêdês.”
Isadora’s voice came from behind him, and when he turned and saw her seated on a couch with Elias stretched out along it, his head in her lap, Diomêdês grimaced.
The male did not look well, and as Diomêdês crossed the space toward them, the barely there heartbeat was a clear indication that Elias was only just hanging on to what little life was left in him.
“My Isa,” Diomêdês said as he crouched before her and the male. “What are you doing here? You are supposed to be with that Paris male. Back in the Adjudication room.”
“I know,” she said as she worried her lip. “But Thanos, he came back with Eton and told me Elias was here, and—”
“He returned with Eton?”
“Yes,” she said. “He is with Eton.”
Diomêdês closed his eyes and let the knowledge that Eton was still alive wash over him. The relief from that piece of news was a small win in the scheme of things, but one he would take. “And the third?”
“He is with Thanos. He did not look set to harm him,” she whispered. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”
Diomêdês looked at the one cradled in her lap, and slowly shook his head. What was it about these three males who had come into their lives? They had been sent to end them. Kill them off one by one. But instead, they appeared to have revived them again. Given them life in ways they hadn’t realized they’d been missing.
Perhaps that was the cruel irony. To give them all something they craved so they would understand why it was being taken away.
“Diomêdês?”
“This was Eton, was it not?” he asked, pointing to the wound on Elias’s torso.
Isadora’s eyes welled as she nodded, stroking her fingers through Elias’s hair, and Diomêdês was stunned to see the tears.
“Isa, miikri mou agria polemistria you had to know it may come to this. After what he did—”
“I know,” she said. “I cannot explain all that I am feeling. It barely makes sense to me. But…he cannot… I cannot let him die, Diomêdês.”
Diomêdês’s eyes shifted to the male in her arms, and he marveled over the capacity she had to forgive. Where had she gotten that from? Elias had put her through hell. Tortured her. Broken her. Yet here she sat, pleading with him to do the unthinkable. She wanted him to save Elias Fontana, and the request lingered in the air between them without being asked.
She knew how he felt about this male. How the rest of their lair did. If he fed Elias, the one whom everyone wanted dead would be tied to their lives. He’d be like a noose around their necks, a weight at their feet—one slight slip of the hand by the right person, and all three of them would perish.
Diomêdês stood to his full height and walked away from her pleading eyes. How could he say no to her? The answer was simple. He could not. For years she had selflessly devoted herself to him. They had shared a bond he had never imagined possible until she had entered his life and said yes to him.
With one word she had inspired his eternal loyalty and respect, and there was absolutely nothing he wouldn’t give her. And if she wanted Elias, then he would do what must be done.
“If I do this, you understand what will happen?”
When she didn’t answer, Diomêdês glanced over his shoulder to see her staring up at him with a look of adoration and respect on her face.
“Isadora?”
“You would do that? For me?”
He was back across the room and taking her face between his hands in an instant. “I would do anything for you—even this.”
She looked down to Elias and traced her fingers along one of his dark brows. “I just can’t let him go. Not yet, Diomêdês.”
Diomêdês ran his fingers down her cheek, and then tipped her chin up to face him. “I understand. I feel much the same about you. But you need to know: when Vasilios did this to Leonidas, it changed him.”
“Changed him how? He is still alive. I have seen him.”
“Yes,” Diomêdês said. “But I was there when it happened. He woke with some enhancements, which, when connected with this particular male, could be quite dangerous.” Her eyes glittered up at him. “He will gain our speed, the ability to communicate in our minds, and…”
“And?” she whispered.
“He will be strong, Isadora. Much stronger than even you are.”
She lowered her eyes back to the one she was still holding and said, “You are worried he will hurt me.”
“You, Alasdair, Thanos. He will be stronger than all three of you.”
“But Leonidas is, and he has not hurt anyone.”
Diomêdês shrugged and said softly, “I never thought I’d say this, but that Leonidas male, he has done nothing but stare moon-eyed at Vasilios and Alasdair. He cares for them, Isadora. Your Elias,” he said, looking down at the man they were discussing. “He has proven how ruthless he can be, and has, in fact, not only hurt you, but almost killed Thanos. It is safe to say that by doing what you are asking, it will bring forth much different results than when Vasilios fed Alasdair’s plaything.”
She bit down on her lower lip and Diomêdês heard her thought as soon as it entered her mind: I cannot watch him die.
Diomêdês nodded. “Then you shall not.”
He brought his own wrist up to his lips, and as he punctured the vein just beneath the thin layer of flesh, a rush flooded him at the thought of what he was about to do.
He knew this was wrong. Knew it on the most fundamental of all levels. But as he knelt before Isadora and placed his wrist across Elias Fontana’s lips, he locked eyes with his first-sired and sealed their fate.
SOMETIME AGO, E
VERYTHING had gone dark.
Dark, cold, and silent, as Elias floated somewhere between his conscious and unconscious states. At first he’d thought it was Artemis coming to pay him one of those friendly visits. But when no voices sounded and he’d remained dangling by his hands with a wicked pain beneath his ribs, he figured he was in a much worse situation than he’d believed possible.
At least the pain had subsided now, and whether that was good or bad, the burning sensation that’d been singeing his veins earlier had now dulled to a faint irritation.
He wasn’t sure how long it had been since Eton had stabbed him. But if he was going by the way he was now starting to go in and out of awareness, he had to believe it had been a while.
This time, when his mind surfaced from the languid place that could only be reached by either drugs or a serious lack of blood flow, he felt the gentle stroking of someone’s fingers through his hair as voices floated around him.
“He will be strong, Isadora. Much stronger than you are.”
Wait, he knew that voice. It was Diomêdês. So that must mean the one gently stroking his hair was Isadora. Elias took in a shallow breath, and yes, there she was. He could smell her. Apples and female.
“You are worried he will hurt me.”
Who? Him? Fat chance of that happening, Elias thought. He didn’t even have the energy to open his eyes. How was he going to possibly hurt her? And there wasn’t a chance in hell he ever would again anyway.
He drifted away as they continued to talk, and missed whatever it was they said after that. But the next thing that pulled him back to the surface was a slight pressure upon his lips, and the mesmerizing tone of Diomêdês’s voice by his ear as he said, “Drink from me, you stubborn male. Take from me, let it heal your pain, let it bind you to me and mine, Elias Fontana.”
The words were clear, the intent not so much. But when a drop of Diomêdês’s blood hit the tip of Elias’s tongue, it was as though he’d just been shocked by a defibrillator.
The rush of adrenaline that hit his body was instantaneous, and the taste flooding his mouth addictive. Then his hands were moving to the arm at his lips and he was gripping it tightly, holding it there in place.
Diomêdês’s forearm was hard as stone, and the wrist Elias was sucking from was thick, and as the power of that silver-haired vampire coursed throughout his body, the pain Elias had been feeling vanished and was replaced with a seriously euphoric high.
His wound no longer hurt as he continued to swallow that which he couldn’t seem to get enough of, and that was when he realized that Diomêdês was saving him.
After all Elias had done to Isadora, Thanos, and even that Eton bastard, Diomêdês was giving him life—eternal life, if what he was beginning to feel was any indication.
Before he could wrap his mind around that little bit of what the fuck, Diomêdês’s voice was in his mind for the first time ever, and he said: I do so hope you live through this. We are now forever tied, the three of us. And I am curious what you will be like on the other side, Elias.
On the other side of what? Elias wondered, but before he could even try to speak, his body seized, his hands fell away from Diomêdês’s wrist, and just as he thought, Well, that answers that, his mind blacked out.
PARIS’S EYES FLEW open as Hades’s command that he wake up ricocheted throughout his head, and he found himself staring into the concerned eyes of Thanos.
“Oh Jesus…shit,” Paris said, bringing a hand to his stomach as it lurched.
“Are you okay?” Thanos asked as he took Paris’s face between his hands and made him look him in the eye.
“I…uh… Just give me a second.” Paris tried to catch his breath as the vision of Thanos cradling Charlie flashed before his eyes. But the blood…God, there was so much damn blood that was forever imprinted there. Just as the grief Thanos had experienced was.
“Are you hurt?” Thanos demanded as his eyes trailed over him, and Paris shook his head.
The face that was so close to his own now held no horrors for Paris as they stared at one another. He had long since seen past the surface of this male to what lay beneath his frightening appearance, and when Paris brought a hand up to rest it on Thanos’s arm, he heard himself say, “You loved him. Didn’t you?”
Thanos’s eyes turned to slits, his confusion evident, and Paris took one of the hands at his face between his fingers.
“Charlie,” he whispered, and as the name hovered between them, Thanos dropped his hold and took a step away. “No,” Paris said, and reached for him, drawing Thanos back. “Don’t hide from me. Not when you’ve just started to let me in.”
Thanos’s nostrils flared as he continued to hold Paris’s gaze. “How do you know of Charlie?”
Well, Paris thought, that’s better than nothing.
“Just now, when you kissed me…” When Thanos said nothing, Paris figured he should just keep going. “I, umm, somehow saw you.” He bit his lip for a second, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.
“Saw me? With Charlie?”
“Yes,” Paris said, and then his eyes flicked down to the vampire that was still on the ground, flat on his back, out cold. “I saw you and Charlie and…and him.”
Thanos glanced over his shoulder to where Eton lay, and he cursed beneath his breath. “What did you see?” he asked, and his voice was so low that Paris would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been listening for it.
“Umm—”
Thanos whirled around and had Paris caged in against the wall with his palms on either side of his head. “What did you see?”
Paris licked at his lips, trying to think of where to start, when Thanos’s eyes hardened and he asked a third time, “What. Did. You. See?”
“You…in a room with him. With Charlie,” Paris said. “I think it was his bedroom, maybe? It had wood-paneled walls and he had dark hair. It was cut short.” When Thanos’s eyes softened a little, Paris nodded and continued. “He was wearing—”
“A silk robe,” Thanos interrupted, and shut his eyes. “It was a gift.”
Paris tried to swallow, but he was finding it difficult, since he was trying to hold back the shocked sound that wanted to emerge. He hadn’t known that part. That Thanos had given Charlie the robe he had draped over the top of the man at the end. God, this was horrible. Paris didn’t want to say anything else, but when Thanos’s eyes reopened and Paris saw moisture in them, he brought a hand up to lay it against the vampire’s chest.
“Tell me more,” Thanos said as he stared down at him.
Paris nodded slightly, willing to give him anything in that moment. “You were there. Looking very proper. None of these hoods. You had on fitted pants, a cravat and jacket, and Charlie, he looked at you as though he wanted to worship the ground you walked on.”
Thanos brought one of his hands off the wall and trailed his fingers along the line of Paris’s jaw. He seemed to be searching for the right words to say, and then he lowered his head until his lips were a mere whisper from his and said, “He was sweet, just like you are. Too sweet for the likes of me.”
“That’s not true.”
“No? Is that all you saw, then? Because there is only one night I remember that both myself and Eton were in Charlie’s room, and if you saw that, you would not disagree.”
Paris knew it was imperative to tell him the truth then. So he held Thanos’s bold stare and said, “I saw it all.”
He caught the ticking of Thanos’s jaw as he turned away, but Paris wasn’t going to have that. He cupped Thanos’s cheek and brought his face back around so he could look him in the eye as he asked, “You loved him. Didn’t you?”
Thanos licked his scarred lip and said, “Our kind, we do not love.”
“That’s a lie,” Paris said, as he pushed off the wall. “I was there. I was in that room when Eton left. I saw you with Charlie at the end.”
“Then you saw that I was going to kill him before Eton did. That is not the action of one who loves another.”
br /> “You had no choice. You were going to give him a quick end. You weren’t going to make him suffer. You weren’t going to make it bloody.”
As Thanos’s body tensed, Paris threaded his fingers into the long strands of hair and rose on his toes to place a kiss to the damaged corner of Thanos’s mouth.
“You loved him,” he whispered. “You still love him. But you’ve buried it so deeply inside of you that I don’t think you recognize it anymore.”
THANOS’S HANDS WENT to Paris’s waist then, as he held on to the male, trying to ground himself as he kissed him with all of the pent-up emotions Paris had just brought back to life. And yes, he’d been right about one thing—Paris. He was the sweetest thing Thanos had ever tasted.
The fingers in his hair were gently twisting and pulling, trying to get him closer, and Thanos walked forward so he could hitch Paris up between the wall and his large frame.
As Thanos slipped his tongue between Paris’s lips, he let him pin him there against the leather and kiss him the way he’d been wanting to since the male had burst into his bedchambers.
A low groan rumbled out of Paris, and when his hips bucked against Thanos’s, he couldn’t help but respond in kind, grinding his hardening length against the first male in months to elicit a reaction from him.
He shut his eyes, not wanting to see that moment when Paris might open his and realize whom exactly had his mouth on top of his. But when he pushed inside of Paris’s mind, he was stunned, as always.
Finally…God. Please don’t let him stop. And don’t let me black out…I want to kiss him forever.
And the images that followed were not of him as he had once been. Instead, Paris was remembering them back in his bedchambers. That moment in the dark where Thanos had first stroked his hair. Then the image changed, switched to them in Vasilios’s bathroom when he’d held Paris in his arms and looked down at him still wearing his mask. Then it switched again, to just now, when Paris had finally seen him and touched him for the first time. And it was that which had Thanos pulling his head back and saying, “Stop.”