“Thank you,” Cian said, a grateful look in his eyes.
When Samantha closed the door, the last thing she saw was Cian wipe a tear away.
Amaliya stirred, her eyelids gradually peeling open as she awakened. She’d been dreaming of her grandmother, but lost the old woman’s urgently whispered message w
hen she woke. The cloying scent of blood, incense, sex, and black magic hung in the air reminding her of where she was and all that had occurred the night before. The emptiness within her was agonizing and she fought back the sudden desire to cry.
Cian wasn’t at her side slumbering through the daylight hours. He was in Austin sleeping alone. She craved his touch, his kiss, and the sound of his voice whispering her name.
Last night it was not Cian’s kiss or touch that had brought her exquisite pleasure, but the one who had created her. It had actually been a relief that The Summoner had wanted sex and hadn’t tried to force her into some bizarre black magic ritual. After witnessing the twisted manifestation of the black witches’ magic, she was afraid of what he might force her to do. Sex was something she could handle without many qualms. She’d just turned off her emotions and enjoyed the physicality of it.
Stretching out her legs, she ignored the pleasant soreness between her thighs. Whatever The Summoner was now, he had been just as ravenous and passionate as the first time he’d tried to claim her. Unable to bite and drink her blood, he’d been especially rough. It had frightened her a bit to realize just how much he wanted to make her his own. How far would he go to try to secure her loyalty?
Rubbing her face, she tried not to think too much about what had occurred. She had no regrets, but she hated to admit that it had been a bit more than just casual sex. It was undeniable that the power that existed among the three of them was terrifying in its intensity, but it also bound them together with a strength and fervor that was difficult to process. Whereas Cian’s touch made her feel safe and loved, The Summoner and Bianca awoke the darker aspects of her nature in a frightening, yet enthralling rush. Locked in their embrace, she’d felt like a goddess ready to demand blood, death, and darkness. In the aftermath, she was shaken by how alluring the promise of the new world was when she was drunk on the potency of their combined power.
A tender touch on her shoulder drew her out of her dark reverie. Rolling over, she saw Bianca was already awake, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. She wasn’t staring at Amaliya, but past the end of the bed. Moving her fingertips away from Amaliya’s skin, she pointed toward the far side of the dimly lit room. Still nude, the necromancer was on his knees before the glowing rings, his hands held aloft over the illusion of a sword. Eyes closed in rapture, he was chanting in a language Amaliya had never heard before.
“He does this every day,” Bianca whispered. “It’s what helps him gain a corporeal form when he’s in this room, and only in the room.”
“Is that why he possesses you outside of it?” Amaliya inched closer to Bianca, the silky sheets brushing over her naked flesh.
Pressing her lips together, Bianca nodded sadly.
The Summoner appeared lost in his meditation.
“Is he aware of us right now?”
“No. Not right now.” Bianca sighed and curled into a little ball. The room was incredibly cold and the silk comforter was not very warm.
Pulling another blanket that had been shoved to the end of the bed over them, Amaliya tucked it in around their bodies. It was strange that they were actually feeling the low temperature in the room. Usually cold didn’t affect vampires. With dread, Amaliya realized that the icy air was supernatural.
Snuggling under the covers, Bianca said, “Thank you.”
“Have you tried to escape while he’s doing that?”
“Yes.” Bianca’s gaze slid away from The Summoner to Amaliya’s face. “I can only make it a few steps before it stops me.”
“What does?”
“The sword.”
Propping a few pillows under her throbbing head, Amaliya wished she could get away from the hellish sword. The energy flowing in waves from Lucifer’s weapon made her feel oddly disconnected from herself and the world. The sensation was not entirely unpleasant, which worried her.
“How does it stop you?” Amaliya concentrated her attention on Bianca and ignored The Summoner’s chanting and the pull of the horrible rings.
“I get confused. Muddled. I can’t remember what I’m doing. Or why I’m trying to leave. Once, I stood in the same spot in front of the doors for hours until The Summoner came out of his trance. He was very upset.” Bianca returned to watching the man that had brutally killed her, but was now her captor and lover.
“I’m so sorry,” Amaliya said, and meant it. Despite all she had been through, Bianca gave off an aura of innocence. It made Amaliya want to protect her. “I wanted to save you once I knew you were still alive in your body. I just didn’t know how.”
“I know. I shouldn’t have tried to reach you. I was just so scared and desperate.” Bianca nervously bit her bottom lip. “I should have known he would find a way to bring you here. He always wanted you so much more than he wanted me.”
Bits of memory sifted through Amaliya’s mind. “You were there the night I died, weren’t you?”
A slight shudder slipped through Bianca’s body. “I tried to save you. I failed. You died. He killed me.”
“I think I remember,” Amaliya frowned as she tried to recall the night The Summoner had murdered her. Their date had been so wonderful until the moment he had torn out her throat. Maybe it was a false memory, but she had a recollection of Bianca trying to touch her hand as she died. “You whispered something to me.”
“I told you to find me,” Bianca said. “I thought we’d rise together and that we could find a way to defeat him together.”