So it was with quite a shock that he realized he’d made all of those mistakes at once. Three hundred years of confidence in himself and his beliefs shattered in a matter of weeks by a single woman.
After he followed her over in pleasure, he should have given her time to catch her breath, to rest as he’d said he would. But he was unable to stop kissing her, not because he wanted more—although he did—but because he wanted her to be a part of him and him to be a part of her. Beyond sex or an exchange of blood. The confusing and unacceptable emotions he’d felt after tasting her blood had grown immeasurably, not lessened as he’d assumed they would. As he’d hoped they would.
Throughout his entire existence as a vampire, Rhyse had given up only once—a time when he had desperately wanted to hold onto his humanity, before he’d understood it was already gone. A time so far in his past, he’d been someone else, nothing akin to the man he became. The man he was for centuries afterward.
The man he was, no longer.
Addison had changed him. The process had begun when Rhyse ingested her blood, and it continued to grow every moment he was with her.
Who he’d been was gone. Rhyse understood that now.
It was useless to judge it as good or bad. All he knew was that denying those emotions, or even fighting them, only made him weaker. They had already conquered his mind, altered his every thought, directed his every action.
Regardless of what he might have chosen or which course he might otherwise have pursued, those emotions were fact, and to ignore them was to ignore the truth. So he gave up, and he gave in. He accepted all that it, and he, was—without regret. The most important thing now was to decide the best course of action from here.
The other high beings could never know. If they thought him weak, he would be challenged. While he had the strength to defeat any of them, singularly or in groups, if enough came forward at the same time…some walls could never be broken.
He said goodbye to the creature he would give up anything to protect, leaving her with an order that she only get out of bed for food or bathroom, but under no circumstances was she to put on clothing. She should rest, while he spent the day in meetings to find out what had gone so wrong last night and who was to blame. Their kiss was long and difficult to break.
She put her hands on his chest and pushed. “Go away already, Rhyse. You’re going to kill me if you’re not careful.”
No, he wouldn’t kill her—he would take very good care of her. To do that, he had to reestablish himself as the leader of this zone. Because if he were to lose power, many would suffer. If he were to lose power, Addison would suffer.
And he would be lost.
Rhyse phased directly into the great room. Or what used to be the great room, but was now burnt-out wreckage. All the bodies were gone, ‘dusted’ either by demon fire or by Addison’s peers. No, he was her peer now, one of very few.
His servants ineffectually tried to clean up the mess until he sent them away. Kindly—a request, not an order. Everything he had been for hundreds of years was gone and, despite the danger, the change pleased him. Of course, no one but Addison could ever know that.
To avoid suspicion, he told the seers to get out, slamming the massive doors behind them. He walked the perimeter of the room, not expecting to see any clues as to what had happened. And that expectation was met.
Because Logan had repaired the line, there was no way of knowing who’d made the second break. As Rhyse wandered, a list formed in his mind. One that rarely left it—the name of each race in the same order they had always been. They were all his responsibility—to protect and to control. It was also his responsibility to find out who had released the demons. Perhaps, at the same time, he would discover who’d tried to kill him.
One by one he named them, considering their power and the political stability of their race, as well as their ambition and desire for more control in the zone. Soon, he would meet with them in the Council Hall and would hopefully garner more information. But he needed help.
“Tempest.”
Rhyse had never been in her rooms, never realized quite how much humanity remained in her—the need for things, relics from her mortal life. He slit his wrist and let his blood drip onto the female’s mouth. Although it was half an hour before dawn, she was young and the sleep had already taken her. She licked her lip nonetheless, moaning at his taste but not yet opening her eyes. He lowered his arm to her mouth, allowing her to latch on, watching her hips press upwards and feeling the inevitable sexual desire that occurred during a feeding. Something he could only partially experience with Addison. As much as he wanted to, he would never pierce her skin, feel her blood pump into his mouth and press against his tongue, or have that warmth slide down his throat.
But perhaps there was a way. He’d equated her blood with poison or a snake’s venom, both things humans could build up immunity to. To protect herself, Addison could tie him to a bed again, this time with much stronger chains. He was hardly submissive but, to taste every part of her, he would do it.
He imagined himself bound beneath her, his cock deep inside her. She moved on him, pleasuring them both. And then she cut herself, let him watch her blood form into drops, feel each of them fall into his open mouth, taste the most vital part of her. They would do this over and over and over until he no longer reacted violently, until he was immune to her power, until he could sink his teeth into her neck as they both came.
Only when he was inches away from Tempest did he regain himself, remember where he was, who he wasn’t with. He had no desire—physical or psychological—to be with anyone other than Addison.
“Tempest, you must wake.”
As soon as she opened her eyes and saw who she fed from, she panicked and let go. “I’m so sorry, my lord. I thought I was—”
“Remember who was on top, young one. You would not have taken had I not chosen to give.”
She jumped out of bed and stood at attention, completely nude. As soon as she noticed, she cursed.
“I need you now,” he said impatiently.
“Oh. Okay, my lord, I…”
“Get dressed and meet me in my office.” Not waiting for a response, he phased to his office and made the necessary telephone calls. The leaders of each race had twenty minutes to get here and were allowed one underling to accompany them. Tempest knocked on his door only a few minutes later. “Come in.”
“I’m glad you’re back, sire.”
He wasn’t—there was somewhere he’d much rather be. But until dusk, he would get as much done as he could and then leave to share the night with Addison.
“I recognize you are not used to being awake during the day. My blood will keep the sleep from taking you, but you must tell me when its effects begin to wear off, understand? You are useless to me if you collapse when I need you.” After she nodded, he went on. “The other Council members will be meeting shortly. I want you to read as many of their minds as you can.”
She widened her eyes and then grimaced.
“Your trepidation is unnecessary.” Though understandable considering that what he was asking her to do was punishable by death.
“Maybe not for you.”
“I will not punish you for something I am asking you to do. None of them will sense you, correct?” He’d been aware of her talent since Graham recommended her, but had only seen it performed once. Today would be the second and final time. Unfortunately, he now had too much to lose to trust that she wouldn’t attempt to use her talent on him.
“The angel and the demon might. Honestly, I’ve never had the balls to try.”
What happened wasn’t the fault of a true immortal, he knew. “Ignore them and focus on the others.” He intended to be open and obvious with his own activities, distracting the Council while Tempest looked for information he could not. “Obviously, this is something you will not tell anyone about.”
“Obviously.”
“Good.” With a flick of his head, he told her wh
ere to stand. Then he called in his advisors. They came in nervously, and rightfully so. Addison had told him things they should have. By not having all the information, Rhyse was handicapped, living in a forced denial of the reality of the Highworld.
He motioned for them to sit. “Perhaps you have forgotten, but I am the Prime of this zone. A fancy title that most take to mean I sit on a throne and do nothing.” Unfortunately, that’s what he had done for many, many years. Relying on the three vampires cringing in front of him and the Council itself for accurate information and the day-to-day agenda. Something they’d obviously been neglecting.
It was the simple nature of beings—any group made up of opposing communities or cultures would never see the same things, let alone agree on priorities. Their one commonality: The treatment of seers was of little to no importance. “I may have been negligent in explaining what the title actually means.”
“My lord, what—?”
He silenced the vampire with a look. “And perhaps my predecessor didn’t mind interruptions. But since I decapitated him well over two hundred years ago, I would have thought you would know better by now.” The vampire bowed his head. “As Prime, my obligation is to care for my subjects, all of my subjects. The high races and the lower races. Something I cannot do without accurate information. Therefore, you will go to multiple members of every race and prepare a list of their concerns. Every race, with the exception of the humans, of course.” He looked to Tempest. “You are in frequent contact with humans, are you not?”
She nodded. Good. He would speak with her later.
“If you are unable to do that,” he said to his advisors, “make sure your affairs are in order and you have designated an heir because you will no longer be necessary.” He stood. “I suggest you get started right away.”
“But, my lord, it’s almost sunrise.”
“Am I to take that to mean you have already determined you are not up to the task and, therefore, would prefer to meet the sun immediately?”
After they had each assured him they would see his order done, he dismissed them.
“Do you visit the Houses of Diversion, Tempest?”
She swallowed. “Um… I’m a female—we don’t usually have to pay for it. But I’m not into that kind of thing anyway, my lord.”
He turned to her. Obviously, she was uncomfortable discussing sex with him—another sign of her youth and the humanity that remained in her. But that wasn’t the part that troubled him.
“What kind of thing?”
“The stuff that goes on in the houses. The hardcore stuff.”
He closed the space between them. “If any beings are being abused by another race, it is my responsibility to stop it from happening. Because of your position, it is also your responsibility. So, are you telling me you knew it was happening but did not think to tell me?”
“Your advisors...”
He felt his lip curl as he walked down the hallway. Unfortunately, in this case ‘advisors’ was a misnomer. “Who are you here to serve, Tempest? Them or me?”
She jogged to keep up. “They told us—Graham and me—not to say anything because—”
“The reason does not matter.” Nor did his advisors’ positions above Graham and Tempest. His steps didn’t slow at all. “All it means is that, because three piles of ash cannot complete the task I set to them, you and Graham will have to do it instead.”
Forty-four
As they neared the Council Hall, Rhyse became more and more disturbed that he hadn’t seen Graham. Not knowing if it was common for his marshal not to be in his rooms, Rhyse was sure Graham wouldn’t dare miss the meeting, even fighting the sleep.
He and Tempest walked into a packed room of anxious beings. He silently greeted every one of them, judging their demeanor, whether or not they met his eyes. Each race reacted differently, and that had to be taken into account. The demon and angel acknowledged him confidently—polar opposites, yet more similar to each other than any others. Both were the only true immortal creatures in existence, for though vampires were said to be immortal, they could be ended by a stake to the heart, decapitation, or with prolonged exposure to sunlight. The fae could be banished from Earth, sent back to their own world permanently. Weres were dispatched with silver or decapitation, while mages and witches could be killed in a multitude of ways, just like humans.
Yet they were all there because he had called them, because they accepted his power over them. A power given by the Treaty and held onto by Rhyse’s own strength. If a lesser vampire took power over the North American zone, the position could be lost to another race forever. It had happened in other zones.
But once a being was aligned with a zone, it was impossible to gain power in another. An additional act of the Treaty—keeping the zones separate so no one race or individual held the entire world.
Ill at ease, Rhyse looked to Tempest and mouthed Graham’s name. She shook her head and shrugged. Before Rhyse left the battle, he’d told his marshal the meeting would happen. Rhyse had a moment of regret, wondering if he should have stayed—if he’d somehow missed a source of danger, because he was blinded by his concern to get Addison out of there.
He motioned for them to sit. “I understand how occupied you all must be with your own kind,” he said. “I thank you for coming.” As if they had a choice.
The leaders sat around the long table, their underlings standing just behind them. It was nothing more than show—even if a being was stupid enough to war with another race, none would do it within these walls. The equalized hate between each race was all the checks and balances their world needed.
“Dronic, what do you know about last night?” he asked the demon. First level, of course, or he would be surrounded by salt. A Fosfer Demon, like Davyn, one of the only truly human-looking breeds. Although Dronic hadn’t been at the celebration itself, as a representative of an all-knowing being, his knowledge was integral.
Dronic shrugged, though the demon was hardly calm. “Those that Davyn sent back are being punished accordingly. We’re still looking for one, but we’ll find him before he does anything…permanent.”
‘Permanent’ was a word used very infrequently in the demon vernacular. The only permanent thing that could happen to one of them was a punishment from their master. Eternity-long subservience to the Devil in level nine, no chance of ever moving to a higher level. What Dronic referred to was what would happen if the escaped demon lay with a human.
“Do you have any other information?” Rhyse asked.
With the shake of Dronic’s head came the knowledge that Rhyse would get nothing more from him, regardless of how hard he pushed.
“How were they summoned?” he asked the others.
“No one knows.”
“Obviously someone summoned them.” He glanced around the table. According to Council law, he could not look into their minds, but even the law had loopholes. “Have your underlings open their minds to me.”
The energy of the room shifted at his command. “What?” “That’s against Treaty law.” “It’s forbidden.”
“The law states he cannot look into our minds,” the angel said loudly. “It says nothing about those not seated at the table.”
Rhyse nodded his thanks to Sebastian. “I will not linger, nor do I care about the mundane thoughts of each. I will not warn you of mutiny unless it directly affects another race.” Tempest, of course, would be looking for something far more important. “If you or they refuse, I have but one conclusion to reach.”
The first to acquiesce was the angel who had come with Sebastian. The second was the werewolf. One by one each race let him in, the last being the witch, the weakest of the group and understandably the most nervous about anything having to do with the other races.
The room remained silent as Rhyse moved through each mind, paying more attention to the body language of the leaders than the minds of their underlings. As he’d expected, he found nothing of importance. With a glance to each lead
er and a subtle shake of her head, Tempest let him know she hadn’t learned anything, either. If the crimes of last night or his attempted murder were conceived by an individual, that individual was not in this room.
“I thank you all,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment and releasing the minds he held. “What occurred last night went against the Treaty and put the leaders of each race in danger. Each one of us must use every resource we have to find the guilty party. Is that clear?”
After they had all agreed, Rhyse stood and turned to leave. “Before I go… Someone shoved a particularly ugly stake through my chest. I would like to know who it was. I expect the answers to both issues by week’s end.”
“Your grace?”
He turned to the werewolf who’d spoken, an underling. Strange.
“My name is Brody, my lord,” the werewolf said, bowing low. “And if I may, I’d like to request a private meeting with you.”
Rhyse glanced at Vaughn, the zone’s alpha, and saw the faint remnants of a black eye. Then the alpha nodded and left the room. Yes. That needed some explanation.
Rhyse walked towards his library without waiting to see if the werewolf followed. Tempest was at his back. He motioned her forward. “Where is Graham?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since it all went down.” Tempest lacked the calm another century would give her, but she was smart, possessed a unique and useful talent, and chose to socialize with humans on a normal basis. All the things that had made her valuable a week ago were necessities now. Now that everything had changed for Rhyse.
“Find him.”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me where you’ve been.”
“Watch yourself,” he hissed, frustrated and maddened by the enormous uncertainties he now faced.
She flinched. “I’m sorry, my lord. It’s just that Graham wouldn’t want me to leave your side. I’m concerned that—”
“You are ‘concerned’?” About a vampire countless times more powerful than she was. He almost laughed. “I was recovering from a hole in my chest. It was not pleasant, and I do not intend to ever allow it to happen again. I thank you for your concern; however, it would be far more useful to concern yourself with finding Graham.”