Abandoned to the Night (The Brotherhood 3)

Elliot was right about his preoccupation with a particular type of female.

The thought of his friend and brother brought him crashing down from the dizzying heights of ecstasy. To bury himself deep inside this woman would mean betraying the brother who had saved him.

With a sense of deep anguish, he tore his mouth from hers and stared into the beguiling face responsible for his torment. The whites of her eyes were tinged red; her fangs were visible too.

“I … I can’t,” he panted though his body wanted nothing more than to mate with her. “I cannot betray the brotherhood.”

She remained silent as she stared at him. Despite numerous efforts, he could not read her thoughts.

“You were right,” he continued as he stepped back, shock and a bittersweet craving ravaging his thoughts. His jutting erection proved too much of a distraction, and he moved to the bed, grabbed the breeches and dragged them up over his hips. “I cannot deny that an undeniable connection exists between us. But I cannot forget the pain and misery you have caused, to me and to others.”

She sighed, flopped down onto the bed as though her legs could no lon

ger support her weight. “I understand. I knew what would happen once our lips met. Perhaps when you hear all I have to say you may think a little differently. Perhaps when I have explained why I let you go, you will know I am not the devil you believe me to be.”

Curiosity flared.

“One thing is certain,” he said trying to sound amused as a way of easing the wave of sadness taking hold. “I no longer have need for my sword.”

How could he take her head now?

She gave a weak smile as the white points disappeared and her eyes sparkled again. “Then I have accomplished something this evening.” She stood, located her robe and shrugged her arms into it while he reached for the shirt and threw it over his head. “Come. Let us resume our conversation downstairs. In a place where we are not apt to give in to temptation.”

“I’ll need to drink.” Nothing she could give him to soothe his craving would taste as good as her blood.

“Of course. Once we’ve spoken, it will be too late, too hazardous to attempt to return to the tavern before sunrise. I suggest you accept the offer of a chamber and rest here until night falls again.”

Leo considered the row of windows spanning the length of the room. “I assume you do not stay in this room once the sun has come up?”

She shook her head. “No. I have a different chamber for the daylight hours. Some rooms here are accessible before dusk, but Sylvester will explain it to you when he escorts you to your room.”

As they descended the narrow staircase, it occurred to him that he did not know her name. “Again, you seem to have an advantage,” he said feeling a little calmer, more relaxed in her company. “You know my name, yet I do not know yours.”

“You have forgotten many things,” she said as he suddenly pictured himself crying out her name in the wild throes of passion.

It came to him then, as clear as the stars in a cloudless sky. “Ivana,” he whispered. “It’s Ivana.”

She smiled, and the warm glow in his chest returned. “It sounds good to hear it fall from your lips again,” she said as he followed her into the Great Hall.

With the vaulted ceiling towering fifty feet or more above, the arched beams were an impressive sight to behold. A huge stone hearth filled one wall; the giant trophy heads of numerous animals littered another. There were few windows. Had it not been for the bright orange flames burning in the grate, Leo imagined the room would feel dark and oppressive. It posed the perfect place for a creature of the night to relax during daylight hours.

“Please sit,” she said gesturing to the two chairs hugging the fire. “I keep but a small staff, for obvious reasons. Julia will attend to us this evening.”

He understood the need for privacy. “With the nature of our affliction, there are not many people one can trust.”

She nodded. “I would trust Julia and Sylvester with my life.”

“Then you are truly blessed.” His thoughts drifted back to Elliot and Alexander. He hoped they would understand his reasons for coming to Bavaria. Nevertheless, he had no idea how he would explain the recent turn of events.

Blood was brought to them in tall glass vials. Leo turned the thin cylindrical object around in his fingers before drinking down the rich burgundy liquid. He handed the empty tube back to a nervous-looking Julia, finding the process vastly different from the way he usually fed.

Elliot had taught him to find pleasure in the ritual. To drink as one would the finest wine or cognac. Ivana’s method lent itself more to the medicinal: a foul tincture to be drunk quickly, neatly, the used vessel removed so as not to remind the patient of their dreadful condition.

“Am I to assume you do not take pleasure in drinking?” Leo asked, curious to know the reason behind her detached approach.

Ivana glanced at the opening of his shirt, moistened her lips when her gaze drifted up to his neck. “I have on occasion. But it is like drinking vinegar as opposed to … well, I am not sure you would understand.”

The vial had contained goat’s blood. His experienced palate could identify the animal purely from the taste. But she was mistaken if she believed him immune to the potent lure of drinking directly from the host.