Abandoned to the Night (The Brotherhood 3)

“I have drunk from the source,” he said, for once feeling no shame for admitting the truth. “Numerous times.”

Her eyes grew large as she sat forward. “But you can’t have … you mustn’t. Yes, perhaps only the first time when your body is embracing the change. But I manipulated your thoughts so you would not hurt others anymore.”

“Then in my case you have failed.” He steepled his fingers as he examined the frown marring her brow. “I have drunk from the pretty necks of a few women.”

Indeed, in those moments, it was like another man possessed his mind and body. In those moments when he lost control, Elliot was always there to take care of things.

Ivana’s hand shot up to her throat. “You drank directly from a vein?” she muttered almost to herself as she shook her head so vigorously one could not mistake the fact she found the idea abhorrent. “Leo, you must not do so again. Promise me. Promise me you won’t.”

Anger flared in his chest. He would not be drinking blood at all had it not been for the night she sank her fangs into his neck. Why should she be concerned for him now?

“I’ve spent the last three years fighting the urge to bite. Sometimes, I am just too weak to resist.”

“But you must. You do not understand—”

“It seems there are many things I don’t understand,” he interjected with an air of frustration. “Many things I don’t remember.”

She came down to kneel on the floor in front of him and put her hands on his knees. His cock stirred as he conjured an image of her taking him into her mouth.

Bloody hell!

The animalistic instincts he always fought against were so prominent, so powerful when in her presence. The desperate urge to mate with her, to drink from her, to have her completely at his mercy was compelling.

“It is my fault, Leo. When we were joined we … we drank from each other. It heightened our pleasure, made us stronger, made us feel invincible.”

They had bitten each other whilst he’d thrust inside her?

The erotic image played out before his eyes. Hell, no wonder he struggled to control the devil inside when parading about the ballrooms of Mayfair.

Come to think of it, every woman he had ever bitten had possessed blue eyes and golden hair. Elliot often mocked him for it. Relief coursed through him. He had always thought himself to be the weakest brother, the most infantile, the most reckless. Now it seemed he had been desperately trying to recapture a memory.

“It all makes more sense to me now,” he said staring meditatively into the flames. He was silent while his mind absorbed all she had said. When his gaze locked with hers, he could see the truth in her eyes. “I’ve spent the last three years looking for you. I’ve spent three years searching for the same level of satisfaction I must have experienced here.”

His words did not placate her. “Drinking from the source alters you. It hardens your heart to all emotion. It makes you see things differently.” She glanced down, struggled to look him in the eye. “It is part of the reason I let you go.”

Her voice broke on the last word, the high-pitched cry revealing suppressed emotion. She shot to her feet and turned away from him to gaze into the flames.

Leo stood and put his hand on her shoulder. “What do you mean, Ivana, when you say you let me go?”

She turned to face him, her eyes red and watery. Never in his wildest imagination would he have believed the devil woman capable of shedding a tear.

“There is so much to tell you,” she whispered as he wiped a tear away with the pad of this thumb. “So much I have kept hidden inside.”

“Then you must tell me everything. That’s the reason I came here, to understand why you chose to punish us.”

“And to seek revenge,” she added.

“Yes, that too. But things are dif

ferent now. I painted a picture in my mind, and I have lived in constant fear of the image. Now, in reality, the scene is not how I remember it. The lines are distorted, the figures hazy. What appeared grotesque no longer rouses the same feelings of disdain within me.”

“Then let us sit, let me paint a different picture for you. Let me settle your mind before you leave here.”

The thought of leaving caused a sudden stabbing pain in his chest. In truth, he had never felt at home anywhere. In the ballrooms of London, he could not be himself; he was just another actor playing a role, just another gentleman looking for a way to fill his time. Life held no meaning. Without his friends, his brothers, he had nothing.

Yet here, in the darkest depths of the devil woman’s lair, he felt normal.

He felt as though he belonged.