Diomêdês. He was a complex puzzle no one understood. No one except perhaps her. He wasn’t fully complete, yet he offered more of himself than anyone else she knew.
His final thought, though, before she’d ceased feeding worried her. She’d never detected that from him before. She’d always vowed to forever please him. To serve him and remain loyal, and never once, with all the yieldings she had taken beyond these walls and there in this bed for him to observe, had she ever sensed he’d felt…cheated. With Elias, he did.
“Stop worrying yourself, mikri mou polemistria.”
“Your thought—it troubles me.”
“Why? Because I am selfish and wished to have seen you with that wretched man? The thought should trouble you. It is an uncaring and self-centered thought. He just spent hours torturing you, yet here I am, thinking about—”
“A time when he pleasured me.”
Diomêdês’s eyes opened, and when they glowed up at her, he gave a small smile. “I am fucked up, am I not?”
She licked a drop of blood from her upper lip and then leaned down to press a kiss to his mouth. “No more so than I. The entire time Elias was threatening me, I was remembering my time in his bed.”
Strong arms encircled her waist, and he rolled her to her back. Then he loomed over her and asked, “Why did you never speak of him?”
She wasn’t sure. When she’d first met Elias, he’d reminded her in many ways of her Ancient. He was kind and generous with his actions and words, and he’d cared for her. But something had held her back. Something had warred within her and prevented her from bringing him to her sire. An inner instinct perhaps? And tonight she had been glad for it. Because the kindness she’d once sensed in him had been replaced with ruthlessness, and never had she feared anyone more.
As Diomêdês’s long hair fell around her and his eyes gleamed, he confessed, “I would’ve liked to have watched you with him.”
She would’ve liked that too. If there was one thing that gave her the ultimate pleasure, it was performing under the watchful eye of her Ancient. It was a shame Elias had done what he had. She had a feeling he would’ve enjoyed a little exhibitionism himself.
Oh well. There were many ways to perform for an audience. Unfortunately for him, death would be his final curtain call.
LEO FIDGETED WITH his hands as he stood inside Vasilios’s bedroom. He’d only ever been there the night he’d lain beneath Alasdair and watched his Ancient take him, and fuck if he couldn’t stop seeing that particular vision in his mind’s eye right that second.
“If it is any comfort, I cannot stop thinking of it, either.”
Leo’s eyes sought out the vampire who’d faded them into the bedroom. Vasilios was standing at a large bureau pushed up against a far wall and was rifling through a drawer. It was strange to be in the presence of such a magnificent being while he did something so…ordinary. He never imagined Vasilios doing anything other than ordering people to do as he pleased—or die. As the thought entered his mind, the vampire stilled and looked over his shoulder at him with a smirk.
“You don’t have to stand all the way over there, Leonidas. You may come closer.”
Leo shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants and licked his top lip. “No. I’m good.”
One of Vasilios’s eyebrows arched. “Scared?”
Yes. “No. What’s going to happen to Elias and Paris?”
Vasilios eyed him but didn’t answer his question. Instead, he advised, “It would be smart to be scared,” and then turned back to the drawer he was searching. “And you are a smart one, aren’t you, agóri?”
“I like to think so.”
“Ahh,” Vasilios sighed. “There it is.”
Leo wanted to ask more questions, but from his deflection he knew that the vampire wasn’t in the answering mood. He tried to see what Vasilios had just pulled from the drawer, but he wasn’t quick enough, and when the Ancient turned to stare him down, whatever object he had removed was now hidden behind his back.
“Please, come closer. There’s no need for all of this distance between us.”
The request was so simple, so polite, yet there was an underlying command to it.
“I think…I think I’ll stay over here for now.”
Vasilios chuckled as he made his way over to the bed, and Leo tracked him like a laser beam. This was the first time he’d ever been alone with him, and he made him nervous as fuck.
He took in Vasilios’s side profile as he placed the object on the mattress. The Ancient was tall, but not overly, with broad shoulders beneath the suit jacket and hair as dark as night. It was closely cropped to his head, and the stubble lining his angular jawline had Leo’s fingers itching to touch. He was an unbelievably handsome man. Beyond handsome, really. He was indescribable, and Leo could see why Alasdair had given up everything to be with him.
“You flatter me, Leonidas,” Vasilios spoke, reading his thoughts.
Leo scoffed. “I doubt it.”
“Why do you say that?”
Leo removed his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest. “You can read the thoughts of anyone around you. I’m sure everyone who looks at you thinks that you’re—” He stopped talking when an amused light appeared in Vasilios’s eyes.
“Thinks that I’m…what?”
Leo wasn’t sure what prompted him to be sarcastic, but before he could help himself, the words escaped. “An arrogant asshole?” He didn’t know what kind of reaction to expect of the male. But, when a loud laugh left Vasilios, Leo was stunned.
“You are a brave one, aren’t you, agóri?”
Am I? Leo thought. Or just a fucking idiot?
Vasilios flashed over in front of him and had him trapped between his body and the wall. “To stand here in my bedchambers and call me an asshole. It is brave, don’t you agree?”
Leo swallowed but was finding it more and more difficult to breathe. “Maybe. But it’s the truth.”
Vasilios grinned at him, and the expression was so gleeful that it seemed at odds with the trepidation he roused in Leo.
“And what else is the truth? Since you know so much.”
Leo searched the face so close to his own and decided to give him what he wanted—the truth. “You’re too attractive for your own good.”
The eyes locked with his practically twinkled.
“Thank you.”
“You’re vicious.”
Vasilios’s lips twisted in a warped smile. “Thank you again.”
“And you’re selfish to the point where I think you’ve forgotten how to think of anyone other than yourself.”
The vampire’s eyes narrowed.
“And you’re jealous.”
Vasilios took a step back and studied him. “Jealous?”
He hadn’t actually meant to say that last one. It’d just slipped out. Fuck.
“Yes.”
“Of you?”
As Vasilios’s voice took on a disbelieving tone, Leo wondered if he’d made a grave misstep. Then the Ancient walked back to his bed, where he picked up the object he’d deposited earlier. There, dangling off his index finger, was a set of golden cuffs.
“You are right,” he admitted as he strolled back towards him, the cuffs swinging back and forth in a hypnotizing way. “I am jealous.”
When he stopped in front of him, Leo’s heart thudded uncontrollably.
“But not of you.”
What the hell does that—
“We have met once before, Leonidas. Although I do not believe it was you, so to say.”
Leo’s lips parted to ask him what he was talking about, but Vasilios continued.
“I know you remember, since we already discussed it briefly. The temple, the night I turned my Alasdair.”
Leo shook his head. “No. That was a dream.”
“No. It was much more than that,” he said as he raised his arm, the cuffs dangling between them. “I believe it was a footprint of sorts. A moment imprinted
in time.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I just yet,” he admitted.
Before Leo could blink, the cuff was on his wrist and the vampire jerked him in so close that their clothes brushed.
“I do know that the night I saw you standing across from me, watching me with Alasdair, I wanted the three of us together in a way I never had before. Which is one of the reasons I originally let Alasdair keep you when you arrived. I am not jealous of you, Leonidas. I am jealous of Alasdair. He has had what I have craved for over two millennia. However, that’s all about to change.”
Oh shit. Leo didn’t understand half of what Vasilios had just said to him, but the heavy cuff around his wrist and the ravenous way the vampire was eyeing him had Leo’s cock stiff in an instant. The one thing he had heard was that Vasilios had wanted the three of them for a fucking long-ass time. That was a lot of want right there.
As Vasilios walked backwards to the bed, he tugged him along with him. There was no need though—Leo was willing to follow. He was becoming as drawn to this vampire as he was to Alasdair.
“Earlier, I mentioned you were smart. Well, so am I, agóri. I’ve had years to think, years to wonder what golden-haired angel, apparition, or god visited me that day. I must admit that, over the years, I doubted my own memory—until I saw you in the Adjudication Room that first day. You were so familiar, yet just a little different—the face that’d haunted me all those years.”
When they stopped by the bed, Vasilios traced cool fingers over Leo’s lips, and Leo ceased breathing altogether. He marveled at how gentle they were and the fact that this vampire was capable of softness. It was unimaginable.
“I’ve always missed the light in my life, the rays of the warm sun. And the day I saw you, you lit up the temple as if the light had been coming from within. I wanted that light and I wanted Alasdair’s darkness.”
“Greedy,” Leo managed, remembering what Vasilios had said to him. “You’re as greedy as I am.”
Vasilios placed his mouth by his ear, and Leo thought his knees might buckle.
“No. I am much greedier.”
As Vasilios’s tongue traced the shell of his ear, Leo moaned.
“You see, I think you are much more than a human with my blood running through you. I think…”
“Yes?” Leo asked on a breathy groan.
“I think it is time we find out.”
Then Vasilios did something he hadn’t yet done. He crushed their lips together.
Leo held on to the vampire’s jacket as a pain splintered through his head and a memory appeared. Not one of his though. That was when he realized that Vasilios had thrust inside his mind a vision of days long, long ago…
Ancient Rome—300 BC
LEO CLUTCHED THE sides of his head and winced as he doubled over. The pain was excruciating. Hell, Vasilios’s power was a tangible thing as the force of his memory penetrated his subconscious.
He squinted into the shadows surrounding him and the damp scent of earth hit his nose as he tried to see what Vasilios wanted to show him. Beside him, water faintly drip, drip, dripped as it trickled down the rocks of the cave he was in and fell to a puddle.
That was when he spotted them. Two figures standing opposite one another. Long, woolen robes were wound around them and draped over their shoulders.
“Vasilios, you must listen to me. You cannot venture out during the day. I have told you this many times over, and still, you choose to defy me. Do you wish to perish?”
Fascinated that someone dared to talk to Vasilios in such a way, Leo walked closer to the scene.
“Maybe I do,” Vasilios replied as he raised his head high, that angular chin of his set in stubborn defiance.
“No, you do not. You value your life more than anyone I have known. That is why you were a perfect match for me. Someone who would do what needed to be done in order to ensure his survival.”
Leo wandered around the two men, and when he looked at the one facing off with Vasilios, he didn’t recognize him. Not from Alasdair’s visions, and not from any of his dreams.
“I do not know why I bother repeating myself when you will merely ignore me come first light. The sun, it will kill you, so stop testing my word.”
“Why? Why does it harm us? Why will you not say?”
The stranger stared at his feet and, after several seconds, raised his eyes back to Vasilios. “It is not yet time for you to know.”
Vasilios stepped closer to the man and took his hands in his. “Why will you not tell me? You have said that this, what we are, is a gift. And it truly is. I am faster, stronger, more aware than I have ever been—”
“Yes. But that comes with a price…” the man said, his voice trailing off.
“If given as a gift, why would a price be required?”
Because it wasn’t a gift, Leo thought. It’d never been a gift. It had been a curse. The man had lied.
Leo remembered the journals he’d come across while researching the myths. The Scriptures of Delphi, the tale of the man Ambrogio, who’d been cursed by the Greek gods Apollo, Artemis & Hades.
Apollo—god of the sun.
AS THAT ALARMING thought echoed in his mind, the memory vanished and Vasilios ripped his lips from his.
“Alarming indeed, is it not?”
As Leo’s head pounded, he placed a hand on Vasilios’s chest to steady himself and said, “I’m not—”
Vasilios laughed then, and the sound made his firm body vibrate. “Oh, I know you are not him. But, somehow, you are connected. I have seen through Alasdair how your blood burns him—and likely would the rest of us—as if you are the sun itself. The light I saw shine in the temple with Alasdair that day was like a beacon to me, and the final piece of this wondrous little puzzle is your uncanny resemblance.”
Leo’s eyes widened. He couldn’t quite comprehend what Vasilios was saying.
“Don’t be alarmed, agóri, but that curse you read? I believe you and your little friends who are currently locked up in my Adjudication Room were sent here to break it. And the only way to break it is to kill us all. Something you yourself admitted you were told to do.”
“But…but…what? The Greek gods are a myth.”
“So are vampires,” Vasilios pointed out, tugging on the cuff. “I plan to present you at The Walk in due time and make you mine in every way conceivable. If your god is up there, I am sure he will soon show his hand. Because, as of now, his pawn has become my queen.”
ELIAS PACED THE hardwood floor of the strange room he and Paris had been dumped inside, certain he was close to wearing a mark into it. He thought he’d heard it called the Adjudication Room, and as he scanned the studded, black walls, he wondered what exactly went on there.
Unlike Paris, when that asshole Alasdair had zapped them in there, he’d remained alert and conscious—something he’d been told long ago meditation would help with “when the time comes.”
He wished he could summon the voice from earlier, the one he’d had dreams of back when this had all begun. But that wasn’t the way of it. Their path was to be carried out on the faith and the belief of their ancestors, that of their gods. With a few jumpstart visions courtesy of the higher-ups.
His mindset had changed since he’d started though. He felt…unsure. Back when Isadora had left him and the visions had first begun, he’d felt inspired. He’d clung to the idea that a mission was set in place for him and that was his course in life, a way to get over the fact that she’d left him. And when Leo and Paris had arrived and the dreams started to come to fruition, he’d been vindicated. His path, his course, it was set. What he hadn’t realized was that she had been the trigger that had started it all.
He closed his eyes and thought about where this would end.
With his death? With Paris’s?
It seemed the most likely outcome. But that wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He’d done everything he’d been told. Trained, researched, and waited for years. He’
d been patient, and now, it seemed like he hadn’t been told the entire fucking story.
What would his reward be for having turned his friend against him, for having his other friend captured, and for having tortured Isadora? Death?
He pressed his fingers against his eyelids. Is it so much to ask for an answer of some kind?
No, it is not. But that is not how this works, Elias. You know that…
Elias opened his eyes and searched the room for the source of the voice, but he was alone save for Paris.
“Ugh…” A groan came from down on the black rug in the center of the room, where Paris was currently sprawled out.
Fuck. What a goddamn disaster.
He couldn’t believe how cocked up this had become in the last hour, and all because of fucking Leo. They had to be controlling him. It was the only logical explanation. That and the fact that he hadn’t had a chance to explain things and had looked like a fucking nutjob when things had started to unravel.
Would’ve been fucking nice to have been given a heads-up that Leo had encountered the vampire he was sent to—
“Elias…”
The faint sound had him rounding towards Paris, who was struggling to sit.
“Try not to move too fast or you’ll see your breakfast a second time today.”
Paris brought his knees up to his chest and pushed his long hair behind his ears, lowering his forehead to his legs. “I feel like shit.”
“Yeah, I know. It’ll stop in a minute.”
Paris looked up at him, his round eyes searching his for answers. “What the fuck’s going on, Elias?” Then he looked around the weird-ass room. “Where are we?”
Elias also scanned the room for the hundredth time. He figured that it was a torture room of some sort, but he didn’t think telling Paris was the best option. “If I had to guess, I’d say we’re in some kind of holding room.”
Paris squinted at him. “Ho-holding room?”
Elias walked over to the padded wall and pressed his palm against it. Leather, just as he’d suspected, and soundproof. Or perhaps…scream-proof?