‘I didn’t know anything about the curse involved in drinking one’s sire to death, but it didn’t take me long to figure out I couldn’t feed without killing.’ His lip curled. ‘I didn’t care. Drinking my victims to death gave me pleasure. I reveled in it. After all, I knew exactly what humans were capable of. Punishing their sins was my livelihood. At first, Shaya begged me to stop, to spare them. Then she joined me. The bodies we left behind meant we couldn’t stay in one place for long.’
Chrysabelle showed no signs of disinterest, but he’d gone beyond the tale of his turning. ‘You want to know more?’
‘Yes.’ She bit her bottom lip. ‘If you don’t mind.’
Did he mind? He wasn’t sure. Part of him wanted to keep his history to himself, but another part wanted someone to understand what he’d been through. To know how vile the nobility could be. ‘Europe became our banquet hall. Out hunting one night in a small village, Shaya met a noble vampire and, after talking to him, determined that the vampire who’d turned us had been House of Tepes, one of the strongest of the noble Families. To our amazement, that meant we were noble as well.
‘The life this noble showed us was beyond our comprehension. Hidden cities devoted solely to vampire society. Mansions and servants, fine clothes, art, jewels. Shaya wanted to stay, but my inability to feed without killing undid me. When the others discovered I’d drained my sire, they pronounced me anathema. Some talked of chaining me in an open field and letting the sun take care of me. I had to go. So I slipped away and left Shaya there. It was a far better life than what I could give her. Besides that, my need to feed and kill grew stronger with each passing year. I was afraid if she stayed with me … ’
‘That you might kill her?’ Chrysabelle asked.
He nodded. The fear had almost realized itself several times before he’d left Shaya. But he hadn’t harmed her, and that was all that mattered. ‘Then, about fifty years ago, a pair of nobles found me in northern England. Lord Ivan was one of them. They had Shaya with them. Said that my killing had gone on long enough, that I was making things difficult for all nobles. That my inability to control my bloodthirst risked rousing the kine against them all. If I didn’t go with them, they would kill Shaya. So I went.
‘They took me to a ruined fortress and pronounced my punishment. I would not be killed as vampire law holds that no vampire should kill another. Instead I would be chained in the dungeon and left to rot until the hunger drove me insane. They blindfolded me and shoved me to my knees. Shaya cursed and screamed, begged them to let us go. I heard them hit her, knock her down.
‘I begged them to spare her. They refused. She fought them hard.’ The plane disappeared, replaced by the crumbling castle walls. ‘I recognized the sound of the sword being pulled from its sheath. Shaya cried out. Air brushed my cheek as the blade sailed past me and met its target.
‘Blood spattered my face.’ The broken stones bit into his knees. ‘Shaya went quiet.’
Blindfolded and shackled, he’d listened helplessly to the sound of her dropping to the ground, smelled her turn to bitter ash. Black ice sprang up through him, filling his veins and encasing his heart. She had been the last bastion against his accursed hunger. Removing her had opened a portal of surging hatred and murderous intent. In that moment, he became more of a monster than he’d ever been before.
Had he not already been in chains, he would have killed every last one of them before destroying the village surrounding the ruins. Man, woman, and child, he would have ended every life he came upon.
Chrysabelle’s soft voice broke through, the slightest quaver of horror evident in the timbre. ‘Oh, Mal. I’m so, so sorry for what they did.’
He scrubbed a hand across his face. He was not in that dark place. Had not been there for a very long time. ‘Then they took me to the dungeon and chained me there as promised. The one who wasn’t Lord Ivan spoke an incantation over me – that was the curse that would give me these names and these voices – then they left, sealing the passage behind them.’
‘Holy mother,’ she whispered. A tear streaked down one cheek. ‘That’s where Fiona found you?’
‘Yes. And killing her triggered the second curse. It woke the voices and etched the names into my skin.’
Dominic and Mortalis walked toward them. Company was the last thing he wanted. He nodded and shifted his body away. ‘Go to sleep.’
A few moments later, a soft weight pressed his side. He scowled as he turned. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? The sight of Chrysabelle’s blonde head using his shoulder as a pillow drained the temper out of him in a cold rush.
He listened over the hum of the engines and the chatter in the cabin and focused on her breathing. Soft and steady. She slept. She’d probably have nightmares after what he’d told her.
Hating his own weakness, he leaned in carefully so as not to disturb her and inhaled. Her perfume held more than just the allure of blood now, but he didn’t think on it for long. Thoughts about her, about the possibility of what could be between them, about what the future might hold, were pointless. His past proved that. His curse hung over him like a bird of prey waiting to snatch anything good from his life and devour it.
He turned again to the window and closed his eyes. Even without the curse, there was no reason to think of her as anything more than a temporary blip on his radar, because if this trip went as he assumed it would, his future would end within Corvinestri’s walls.