21 Shades of Night, page 440
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WHEN HER MIND had quieted, Martinet walked back into the room. He’d spent the past four hours with his head buried in photo albums. He began with the traditional albums when Kodak and Polaroid were the brand names of choice, and then moved to his computer to flick through his digital images and film. Normally, memories weren’t something he allowed himself to indulge in, but he needed to remind himself why he couldn’t go to her and quieten her fears. He needed to recall why this mess had started and why she was here. Sympathy should have had no place in his heart, or what was left of it. Hatred for the huntress had nearly eaten him alive these past few months, and yet now that she was captive in his bedroom, he felt himself softening towards her. It had been nearly all he could do to prevent himself rushing in and trying to take away her pain. The very pain that he had been relishing giving her, in order to teach her the lesson he had been desperate to mete out. What was wrong with him? He needed to refocus.
She didn’t stir when his bare feet padded across the floor, and he hadn’t expected her to. When unconsciousness finally overtook victims of the change, it was always a blessing, even in Violetta’s case. He still remembered his own change, and the agonies he had endured dulled with time, but they’d never left him completely. There was simply no human equivalent to the kind of suffering the change delivered.
Sitting down on the soft cream padding of his antique bedroom chair, he slowly examined his new child and wondered whether she’d make it through. Her lips were dry and cracked, her face was streaked with the tracks of a thousand tears, and her skin looked sallow and shrunken. That would change shortly if his venom was accepted into her bloodstream; it would begin the cell regeneration process and repair the damage that her human death had caused.
He touched her mind gently, flicking gently through its pages as she lay there, oblivious. He would begin with the most recent, and slowly pull back the layers of time until every secret was laid bare to him. It would help with her transition. When you realised that not a single thought in your head could be hidden, obeying became much easier, especially if the penalties for disobeying were severe enough. He would make sure that they were. The pity that he currently felt for her wouldn’t last. When, not if she became a fully-fledged vampire, he would be able to use her as he wished. She would no longer be fragile and there would be no chance that her body could break. Her mind would be a different vessel altogether, however, and that he would enjoy breaking - piece by tiny piece until the jigsaw would no longer fit together in any discernible order.
After several hours had passed and he had regressed halfway through some of her most important memories, he decided to take a break from his vigilance. Her colour was improving, her hair thickening, and her flesh was slowly beginning to fill out. He needn’t have worried. She was a tough one, and she would survive this. His perusal of her mind could continue in the privacy of his office. He didn’t need to be a sentinel over her person to pick her head apart.
Releasing the cuffs that held her, he smiled. Whilst he wouldn’t remove them from his bed frame, he would no longer need them. Her body would now obey every single order he gave it without question. One of the downsides or upsides, depending on how you looked at it, of the master/slave relationship. The next few days promised to be extremely amusing as she tested his absolute control, and he was looking forward to them immensely.
Smiling, he pulled the thin cotton sheet up and gently covered her body with it. She could sleep with a modicum of privacy, just this once. The new rules would begin as dusk crested the ridges of the Dolomite Mountains tomorrow. For today, she had earned her rest.
* * *
WHEN VIOLETTA AWOKE the following evening, she knew instantly that something was terribly wrong. Her chest was still, there was no breath in her body, and her blood was sluggish through her veins. She felt oddly heavy. Her throat was dry and sore, and there was a ravaging thirst that desperately needed to be slaked. Something or someone was calling to her. What on earth was happening?
Looking down at her body, she found her breasts oddly plumped and beautifully filled out, her nipples longer and darker than before. Her physique had changed somewhat too. Her body felt sleeker and leaner, more muscled and bursting with strength. Reaching up with her fingertips, she grabbed a handful of hair to find it much thicker and glossier than normal, and she let out a keening wail of despair. Slamming her hand against her heart, pressing tight against her ribcage, it was to find there was no heartbeat within her body. Pressing her fingers to her neck, she confirmed that her pulse was absent. Scrabbling from the bed, she covered her mouth with her hands and muffled the shriek of horror that she wanted to scream from the rooftops. She was no longer human. Martinet had done what he had set out to do and had made her one of them. She could barely think the word inside her head. Oh God, oh God, oh God. He had turned her into a monster.
Her eyes immediately darted to the bedside table, and there lay her dagger glinting softly in the early evening light as if begging to be used. She snatched it up by the handle and gasped as the silver hilt burned her flesh. Vampire. She was now an immortal. Martinet had gone and done the unthinkable.
* * *
PRESSING THE DAGGER to her chest, it was all Violetta could do to hold it steady in her shaking, smoking hands. There was no way she could do this. The alternative, however, was to endure an eternity of humiliations under Martinet’s instruction, and that was even worse. There was no choice. She needed to end this mess now.
Pulling the dagger back in front of her chest, she felt her eyes blur over the shiny silver and wanted to weep at the life she was about to extinguish. She was twenty-four years old, and her life had been full of purpose and promise just a few scant days ago. Now she couldn’t face another second of torment. Martinet would drive her insane and she couldn’t bear the thought of his beautiful face coming anywhere near her. His soft, skilful hands, wicked tongue, and exceptionally clever mind had her hovering at death’s door and she knew there was no way out. She would not be rescued from deep inside the bowels of a mountain, and there was no question that she would ever be set free. She would forever remain a slave, a prisoner, and an amusing plaything that served little purpose except to amuse its maker. She couldn’t live like that. Violetta knew she was falling for the vampire, and soon she would barely remember the life she had lived outside of this gilded cage. That couldn’t happen. Each day would drive her closer to insanity until she became the monster that Martinet already was, and then there would be no way of ending her life. Better she do it now, before it was too late.
Driving the dagger forward with as much force as she could muster, Violetta stumbled. The earth beneath her feet moved violently and the mountains rumbled. Her weapon flew from her fingers and clattered to the floor as she desperately tried to steady herself. It wasn’t just a little tremor, it was a serious ninety-degree tilt. One moment she was lying down upon a four-poster bed and in the next she found herself back outside the gardens of the Castello Verde where this horrific mess had all begun. It was as if someone had instantly rewound the events of the past two days and given her another chance. But how could that be? Looking down at her trembling hands, she dashed her tears away with the tips of her fingers and felt them tangle in her silver mask. Looking at the tiny oval droplets upon her fingers, she sucked in a breath. The tears were real. Sucking upon her fingertip to make sure, she tasted salt, and with trepidation, she slowly raised her head up and looked directly into the eyes of Michel Martinet.
Feeling her eyes sucked into to the vortex of his open gaze, she reeled backwards and gasped. The beast stared at her for the longest time.
‘Why didn’t you tell me your mother and father had both been murdered by vampires?’ he bit out. ‘Didn’t you think that little snippet of information might be important?’ The tight line of Martinet’s mouth was only just visible in the moonlight and she could see the lines of strain around his jaw and eyes. He bit his lip slowly as his eyes devoured her. He was angry, murderously angry if the look on his face was any indication.
‘I… don’t talk about it,’ she whispered. ‘I try not to think about it. All I remember is blood, broken bones, and screams. I was four years old. It’s taken twenty years of therapy to get me where I am now.’
Violetta gave a choked sob and felt her jaw lock. She shook her head and the tears that she thought she’d managed to stem began to flow freely once more.
Martinet ground his teeth together. ‘It was only luck that I found out, Violetta. Even though you’re only a human, searching through every single memory you possess could have taken me ten years or more. You can thank the heavens above I wanted to fuck with that pretty little head of yours before I put all my thoughts into action.’ His eyes had turned from light blue to black and she noted his skin was paler than usual. ‘I could have tortured you for years, pulled you apart piece by piece, destroyed that admirable mind of yours from the inside out. Fuck.’ His hand reached up, threading its way through his black hair and she saw him shake his head in horror. ‘It seems I am now the monster I vowed I would never be.’ He swallowed.
Violetta could barely see through her tears, but she managed to whisper, ‘Then we are both monsters, and in the end, we are all too similar through our differences.’ She offered him a weak smile.
‘Would you have told me?’ His eyes bored into hers.
‘Would you have believed me?’ For the first time, she looked upon him with an expression of kindness.
He sighed softly. ‘Probably not.’ Rubbing both his eyes, he shook his head tiredly. ‘I will not ask you to forgive me, nor do I think I can forgive you for what I have endured, but perhaps we can both have some semblance of compassion for the other. It is not too much to ask, is it?’ Taking two steps towards her, he grabbed a fistful of her red hair and inhaled it. He sent goosebumps shimmering along her spine as his lips came to rest near her ear. ‘I will always remember you, Violetta, and every time I smell lily of the valley, I will think of you. If you ever find a way to kill me, you are most welcome to come back and the finish the job,’ he said softly. ‘You have more than earned the right.’
Violetta just looked at him, her mouth agape.
‘Now go. Your friends are waiting and the night is young. You have your whole life ahead of you and many vampires to kill.’ He pulled her silver dagger out of his pocket and with a dry smile, closed her fingers around the hilt.
Kissing her cheek, Martinet grasped her hands and smiled. ‘I wish you a long life, with great happiness and health.’ When he released them, she felt nothing more than a rush of air as his body disappeared into the night.
* * *
LATER THAT EVENING as Martinet sat on the edge of the world, he made a bet with himself. Alternating his gaze between the glittering cornucopia of hopeful stars above, and in stark contrast, the dismal sheet of grey, ragged rock beneath him, he gave her five years. Violetta would study harder, fight faster and show no mercy when she returned for him. The second time around, however, he would be ready for her. Tonight he had not been the monster he was purported to be, but if she was stupid enough to push him one day, he would be. He would do all that he had threatened and more. It was unlikely that a mere slip of a girl could be that stupid twice, though, right? As the thought entered his mind, he couldn’t resist laughing. The sound echoed long and far into the mountains below and for a moment it felt like the whole world was laughing at him.
* * *
If you like your vampires hot and steamy with a touch of kink, you may also enjoy ‘Good As Dead’ by C.P. Mandara
https://www.amazon.com/Good-Dead-Dying-Meet-Book-ebook/dp/B01C4TZRCA
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About the Author
Christina Mandara was born in the UK, but has spent most of her life travelling the world. She speaks three languages and has been chiefly employed in the fields of finance and travel. Her favourite city is Sydney and her favourite holiday destination is the south of France.
In her spare time she's usually cuddled up with a good book, exploring the countryside or baking in the kitchen. In fact, she loves her kitchen so much she's one of few woman who wouldn't mind being tied to it! Her first and foremost love is writing, however, and more often than not you'll find her on a laptop spinning tales of romance, erotica or dark, paranormal fantasies.
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JUMP TO...
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WOLF IN EXILE by AMBER ELLA MONROE
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WITCH OF THE CARDS by CATHERINE STINE
WITCH OF THE CARDS
BY CATHERINE STINE
Copyright © 2016 by Catherine Stine
Fiera was born a sea witch with no inkling of her power. And now it might be too late.
Witch of the Cards is a supernatural romantic suspense set in 1932 on the Jersey shore. Fiera has left the Brooklyn orphanage where she was raised, and works in Manhattan as a nanny. She gets a lucky break when her boss pays for her vacation in Asbury Park. One evening, Fiera and her new friend Dulcie wander down the boardwalk and into Peter Dune’s Tarot & Séance, where they attend a card reading.
Fiera has an unsettling ability to sense future events and people’s hidden agendas. She longs to either find out the origin of her powers or else banish them because as is, they make her feel crazy. When, during the reading, her energies somehow bond with Peter Dune’s and form an undeniable ethereal force, a chain of revelations and dangerous events unspool.
For one, Fiera finds out she is a witch from a powerful sea clan, but that someone is out to stop her blossoming power forever. And though she is falling in love with Peter, he also has a secret side. He’s no card reader, but a private detective working to expose mediums. Despite this terrible betrayal, Fiera must make the choice to save Peter from a tragic Morro Cruise boat fire, or let him perish with his fellow investigators. Told in alternating viewpoints, Fiera and Peter each struggle against their deep attraction. Secrets, lies, even murder, lace this dark fantasy.
Witch of the Cards © copyright 2016 by Catherine Stine
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property, and is punishable by law.
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Chapter 1
THIS WAS MY first time walking the beachfront strip at nightfall. Before this, I’d stuck to the wicker rockers on the porch of the Asbury Park Hotel, where rich, respectable ladies and their paramours lounged. I had neither—the respectability of a large purse or a paramour. At least I’d made a new friend. Dulcie and I had chatted the first two mornings on the porch as we sipped sweet tea and ate blessedly free hotel crumpets. That was when I found out she was rooming across the hall from me.
