Page 62 of Redeemed
“I remember your wolf,” she murmurs, “and I’m most pleased to make the acquaintance of a member of the Elites. And an Amazon! It amuses me that you have such powerful friends but shy away from your own power.”
I manage a smile. “The issue never came up.”What power?My interests are in business and in Connor and David, not necessarily in that order. I’d never sought power for its own sake, but with a slow breath, I set aside my nerves and resolve to take it now.
“I imagine Betancourt preferred to have you in thrall rather than set you free.”
My smile freezes in place. “I wouldn’t have said he kept me in thrall. Our arrangement worked well, until…”
“Until he pushed you too far.” Her expression grows cold. “He’s pushing all of us too far with this idiotic spell. Tatiana may have been estranged from her family, but the elves will still avenge her death, and we’ll all pay for it.
“I’m not particularly generous, Trajan Gall, nor do I do favors easily. You’re a weapon, nothing more. I do not want to be staked in my bed by an enraged elf, and the best way to stop Betancourt is to have his oldest scion take him on, so”—her expression lightens—“please make Gillian happy by turning her lover.”
I turn to the man in question. Gillian is curled around him, her smile so bright it’s almost painful. My own nerves have me ready to crawl out of my skin, but it’s too late to turn back. I meet the man’s gaze, probing lightly to make sure he’s sober and uninfluenced by others.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Peter.”
I introduce myself, figuring if we’re going to reach the level of intimacy it’ll take to turn him, we should at least be on a first name basis. “And Peter, what do you understand about what we’re doing here?”
“You’re going to turn me so I can spend eternity with my beloved.”
His flowery language feels coached, but I don’t get a sense that he’s anything other than sincere. “That’s right. I’m going to drain the blood from your body and at the moment of death, I’ll give you some of mine. You will feel pain, although you will not recall the sensations that come with dying and being reborn.”
“I’ll be right here with you, my darling.” Gillian nuzzles his ear. “We’ll endure this together.”
I give the man one more long look. His calm helps me, and I motion for him to recline the chair. He does and Gillian stretches out next to him, spooning him from behind. I keep my gaze on the pair of them. Looking at Connor will undo me. It’s enough that he and David are nearby. A palpable sense of their presence grounds me.
“Because we’re pack.” David’s voice sounds in my head, words for me alone. I close my eyes and I can see him, holding onto me with one hand and Connor with the other. They’re with me, but this is something I must do alone.
“All right, Peter. Let’s begin.”
I raise his chin with one finger, bending low over him and, picking a spot over his jugular vein, I bite.
This isn’t feeding for nutrition’s sake. This is purposeful, so I continue long past satiation. My fears and doubts grow quieter with every swallow and soon, all I’m tuned to is the rhythm of my suck and the beat of his heart.
A beat that grows slower, and slower still.
His spirit wavers. Now. It is time. I slash my thumbnail across my palm and press it to his mouth.
He lies still, the time between each heartbeat growing longer.Oh fuck, I’m not enough. Delia is wrong. “Come on.” I squeeze blood from my palm. It trickles over his lips and reaches his tongue. His heart stops. Silence. One long swell of nothing. I squeeze harder.I have to be enough. “You must drink.”
Gillian cries out, slapping his cheek. “Drink, Peter. Please.”
I press my palm more firmly to his lips and reach down with my other sense to catch hold of his spirit. “Stay.”
I’m not sure if I say the word out loud, but his heart beats again, once, twice. He gasps and grabs hold of my wrist with hands that feel like claws. He drinks, Gillian sobbing on his shoulder. I let him go until some instinct tells me he’s had enough. I pull away, though he scrabbles after me.
His eyes are open, vampire black. “Rest now,” I say, holding my wounded palm against my chest. He exhales, falling into Gillian’s embrace.
I turn to face the others in the room. “It is done.”
I’ve created a vampire scion, just as Jacques had done to me, and someone else had done to Jacques. The line of us stretches far into the past, and I’m both humbled and proud to take my place. And for the first time since this debacle began, I no longer hear Jacques’ voice in my head.
At all.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Connor
