“Marcellus revealed himself to me as a vampire the first night we made love,” she continued, undeterred. “He was ashamed and afraid of what I might think—that I’d leave him immediately in fear and loathing. But I didn’t. I asked him to sire me and he did. Since he was already a master vampire I was very strong from the beginning and he taught me how to survive.” She sighed at the memory. “How I loved him.”
“And then Marcellus left you and took up with a younger fledgling. I know this already, Veronique. And then the loneliness and solitude you felt during the Black Death caused you to sire Thierry and the rest is history. Uh… ancient history, actually. Gideon wants me to drain you so I can become stronger. Doesn’t this bother you even a little?”
“Of course it bothers me,” she said sharply. “But I have dealt with many more dire situations than this. I have survived to this day by doing whatever I must. And yes, Marcellus left me.” Her voice caught. “That betrayal still stings. But after everything that happened between us I know that he loved me as much as I loved him. He sacrificed himself to save me in the end. That was true love.”
My vision had slowly closed in and her voice became a tinny buzz that I had an easy time ignoring. “That was a lovely story. What was the purpose of it again?”
“If Thierry loves you so much, where is he now?” she asked.
“Why? Do you think he’d sacrifice himself to save you like Marcellus did?”
There was still no fear in her eyes, only pity. For me. “I’ve lived a long time without anyone coming to my rescue.”
A slow smile stretched my lips. “Honestly, Veronique, you really should have signed those annulment papers and headed back to your fabulous life in Europe. Washed your hands of this whole mess. But no, you had to hold on to Thierry—a man you don’t love—with both hands so somebody else didn’t get him.”
“Then perhaps Gideon is right. Maybe you should take this opportunity to kill me. There are many ways to kill a vampire, even a master, if one is willing.” She studied me. “Your eyes are black now, my dear.”
“Maybe I need to accept the fact that I’m a nightwalker.”
“It’s only an unfortunate curse. It’s not what you truly are.”
“You’re not the first one to say that, but I feel like a nightwalker, I act like a nightwalker.
The odds of my ever getting rid of this side of me are now slim to none. It’s real.”
“No,” she said firmly. “This is only magic and magic is not the same as reality.”
“All I know is that Gideon isn’t letting either of us out of here until I do what he wants me to do. And oddly, it’s becoming easier and easier the more you talk.”
I was very thirsty. Parched. Dying from the need for blood. Something I’d fought against since becoming a vampire—something I thought was really gross and monstrous and unhygienic. It was one thing to drink blood from a keg at a vampire club, but it was another thing to get it straight from the source itself. Shifting morals—one was good, one was bad. One made me normal, one made me a monster. It was still blood.
All my attention narrowed down to the pulse on Veronique’s throat—a pulse that had been pulsing away for seven hundred years. The beat had gone on. And it suddenly became the only thing in the world that existed for me.
I reached out to touch that pulse, feeling the blood coursing just below the surface of her skin. I felt the power emanating off her in waves. Gideon was right about so many things.
If I drank from her I would become more powerful.
If I drain her, my nightwalker said as I brought my mouth closer to Veronique’s throat, it will solve so many problems.
Yes, I thought. Maybe you’re right.
Suddenly, Veronique slapped me very hard across my face with her uncuffed hand.
“Step away from me,” she hissed.
I grabbed the front of her shirt and narrowed my eyes at her, baring my sharper-than-
normal fangs.
She slapped me again. Even harder this time.
“Ow!” I yelped and moved back from her.
Her dark eyes flashed. “Honestly, Sarah, you’re stronger than this.”
I shook my head. It was foggy and cloudy and completely confused, but there was a small bit of myself still there. “I don’t think I can stop this.”
“Of course you can.”
“I can’t!” I moved toward her again and got another stinging smack for my efforts. That was enough to clear my head enough to think half straight.
“Think of Thierry,” she said harshly. “He wouldn’t want you to be like this. He’d find it most unseemly.”
She was right. I tried to hold on to the image of Thierry in my head.
“I’m trying.”
Her jaw set. “It doesn’t get any easier, my dear. It never will. There are no simple answers in the life of a vampire. There will always be hunters, there will always be danger, there will always be those who wish to hurt us, but you must not let them defeat you. Survival should be your number-one concern. Just as it is mine.”
I was getting the gist: Be strong. Don’t wimp out. “I need to get us the hell out of here.”
“Again, you are not understanding me.” She brought her right forearm to her mouth and bit her wrist. “You may drink from me on my terms. I don’t think Gideon realizes that my blood is strong enough to give you back some of the control you are currently lacking. It won’t change the fact that your chain is gone, but it will help for a while.”
My eyes locked onto her wrist. “Veronique… I don’t know.”
“Do it,” she said, so sharply that I, well, did it.
I was so hungry, thanks to my curse, that her blood was like a Big Mac combo after two weeks of stale bread and water. I drank greedily—half of me thrilled, the other half scared to death.
It wasn’t a good mix of emotions.
My face still stung from where she’d hit me, but instead of trying to ignore that I hung on to it. The pain kept me grounded. I drank from her until she pushed at my forehead with her chained hand.
“That’s enough,” she said.
“I feel… better.” I pulled away and looked at her. “Are my eyes still black?”
She nodded. “They are.”
I turned toward the locked door and kicked it, feeling a bit surprised but satisfied when it splintered open on contact thanks to my extra nightwalker strength. I stalked down the hallway and back into the main club where Gideon waited by the bar. I made a beeline toward him and grabbed his throat before he had a moment to defend himself.
“Sarah—” he choked out. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. “Don’t pop your head off like a dandelion for being a total, manipulative dick?”
I brought my other hand to his throat and squeezed harder. His eyes bugged out and I saw sudden fear behind his gaze. His face began turning an unpleasant shade of purple.