When Twilight Burns (The Gardella Vampire Chronicles 4)

This was the same scene she’d witnessed before, the same scene that still haunted her, which, she knew, was only the edge of what he’d suffered: brilliant coppery hair spilling over his bare torso, next to his dark head, the grimace of pain mingled with shameful pleasure that flushed his face, parted his lips in a silent groan.

And the sounds: the soft gulps, the faint whistle of suction. The palpable alertness of the other undead in the room.

Victoria had expected it, steeled herself for it . . . but the blood. The smell of it.

Max’s blood.

Her vision went hazy and pink, and she swallowed back the saliva that surged in her mouth.

Lilith looked up at that moment, daintily wiping a drop of crimson from the corner of her mouth. “I see,” she said. Laughter and delight tinged her voice. “You’re further gone than I’d imagined.”

Victoria couldn’t look at Max; she could barely breathe. Oh God, help me. Her fingers trembled, the stake lay untouched in her pocket.

Lilith swiped a finger over the marks on Max’s skin, bringing away a fingertip tipped with red. Victoria could see it glistening from where she stood, and swallowed again. “Come, taste,” said the vampire queen.

Victoria’s stomach rebelled, lurching sharply . . . yet she couldn’t draw her eyes away from the crimson trickling from Max’s shoulder. Her heart beat strong vibrations to her fingers.

And then Lilith’s laugh, echoed by Sara, trilled over the back of her mind, and she used its horrible sound to pull out of the depths . . . of wherever she’d been. Her heart still pounded, her fingers trembled . . . but the tug had loosened enough for her to regain control. For the moment.

“I’m here to negotiate,” she said, aware that her voice was perhaps not as strong as it could be. “Do you want the Ring of Jubai? Or shall I leave?” She swallowed, and the saliva did not return in the same salacious manner as before. The red in her vision eased to the edges, lingering, but no longer burning.

“Of course I want the ring . . . but I’ll get it eventually. Soon, you won’t be able to deny me anything. And this is so much more entertaining. Are you quite certain you don’t wish to join me?” Lilith moved her hand possessively over the front of Max’s chest, her long nails threading through hair and over the plane of muscles, carefully avoiding the vis bulla on one side . . . then back up into the thick strands that brushed his neck.

He remained unmoving, stoic, but unwilling to meet Victoria’s eyes. Yet she saw the pulse in the veins of his throat, and the visible tension in his arms as they tightened, the press of his lips. She felt the revulsion and horror emanating from him, and yet he displayed no reaction.

She realized in that moment that whatever had happened with Beauregard three months ago, whatever he’d done to her—and she’d accepted—during his attempt to turn her, had been nothing compared to what Max experienced at the hands of the vampire queen. Her stomach pitched at the thought of such ugliness.

“I didn’t think you were willing to share,” Victoria replied, trying a different tack, concentrating on her breathing. Keeping it easy, slow, smooth. Trying to ignore the smell of blood.

“For a Venator turned undead, I may perhaps make an exception,” Lilith admitted. “You are very close, Victoria Gardella. Can you not feel it burning inside you? The need? I see it in your eyes.”

“You see nothing,” Victoria told her, wondering how much time had elapsed. Sebastian and the others should have been able to find the entrance to the secret passage behind the throne by now . . . they could be nearby. She simply needed to kill more time. “You merely see what you want to see.”

“Indeed.” Lilith sat straight in her chair. “Let us find out about that.” She stood abruptly. Her long emerald gown, which was more in the style of Wayren than her cohort Sara, cascaded to her feet.

The vampire queen gave a subtle jerk of her head, but Victoria was ready. She whirled as two undead swarmed behind her. Stake in her hand again, she knocked away the hands that grasped for her, grabbing one of the vampires and shoving the creature toward the other. Then, quickly, before they could regain their balance or react, she stabbed one. He poofed into ash, and the other stumbled backward. Victoria followed him with her own lunge, pushing him to the ground then following through with her stake.

Standing in the pile of ash, she faced Lilith. “Keep your goons away from me.”

The tall vampiress looked at her with burning red eyes. The blue had narrowed to the thinnest circle. “That was incomparably rude, Victoria Gardella. But don’t worry . . . I won’t allow you another chance to misbehave. Come with me, or I shall take out my frustrations elsewhere.”

Max stood as though pulled by a puppet string, and Victoria did not miss Lilith’s implication. She watched him move, still smooth and graceful, yet reluctance be-laboredevery step. The vampire queen was tall, nearly as tall as he, and she circled his wrist with her skeletal fingers.

Sara moved toward Victoria, and she saw that the blonde woman still carried the pistol that had stopped their escape earlier. Using its barrel, she pushed Victoria toward the door at the opposite side of the chamber.

Victoria hadn’t been in this room before; in fact, she’d hardly noticed the entrance to it the two previous times she’d been in the throne room. The smell of blood was stronger here, and the space was lit, unlike the other, by two massive fireplaces—one at each end—and wall sconces. The flames danced black shadows on the stone walls so that they seemed to undulate in every direction. This chamber was much warmer than the other, nearly stifling with its heat.

Or perhaps it just felt that way because of the thick bloodscent, the leaping shadows, and the warm light.

The furnishings in this room included a long, low divan piled with cushions, tables and chairs, and, in the center, a dark shadow in the floor. On the other side of the shadow was another doorway.

A low growl caught Victoria’s attention, and she turned to see three pairs of red eyes burning near the floor in front of one of the fireplaces. Six pointed ears cocked toward them, and then the three dogs rose, massive nostrils quivering.

The hair on the back of Victoria’s arms lifted. They were huge wolflike canines with vampiric eyes and long fangs that curved outside their muzzles when closed. The head of the smallest one would be as high as her waist.

They streaked over to Lilith, who commanded them with a mere flick of her fingers. The dogs sat promptly, but their attention, Victoria now saw, was focused on Max . . . on the fresh blood that oozed down his skin. One of them was furiously licking, half biting, at the finger Lilith had drawn through the blood moments before, but the other two sat at attention: eyes sharp, ears perked, mouths closed, fairly vibrating with bloodlust.