Rises The Night (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 2)

Max.

She stiffened in her seat, unable to move, her pulse increasing and her breath shortening. The vampire next to her moved, showing her his red eyes, and she found herself weakening as she was caught in them.

Deep breaths. Close your eyes.

She tried to, but found it impossible to break the connection there. She tried to pry her wrist away from the vampire, from Regalado, but somehow they held them down. Her strength was weakening, but she was still a Venator. She could fight.

But she had to let this happen. She had to listen to Aunt Eustacia. If she fought, her powerful strength and fighting skills would surely give her away. She’d been bitten before; it would heal quickly.

Max was here. Surely…surely he wouldn’t let them really hurt her.

Something grasped her head from behind, fingers plunging into the twisted coiffure near the top of her head, pulling it back, jerking her head to one side. The other vampire’s blood-scented breath wafted over her tilted face.

Her neck was bare, and she felt Partredi move toward her, shifting in the seat next to hers, his knee bumping her leg. He leaned against her imprisoned arm and brought his gleaming fangs toward her vulnerable throat.

Her pulse thumped harder; she tried to twist away, somehow remaining silent—purposely or not, she did not know.

Now her eyes sank closed. The smooth teeth whispered against her skin. She couldn’t control the urge to fight any longer; she strained up, trying to pull free, and learned it was impossible. The sounds of the orchestra, the rustles in the room, all faded away, until she could hear only the breathing of the vampire as it matched her own. His pulse as it beat with hers.

Her head was held rigid, her arms, her legs, all held fast by unrelenting fingers.

His breath was cold on her skin, icing her throat along with the back of her neck. He sighed and pricked her with his fangs.

“Stop.”

Somehow the single syllable penetrated her fog.

There was a pause, a hitch in the vampire’s movement…then suddenly she was released; the thrall was broken. The weight came off her. She could breathe. Focus.

“This one is mine,” the voice continued.

She recognized the voice, the face, as it came into her view. Sebastian had returned.

The vampires had released her on his command?

He appeared calm and utterly in control, but the vampires looked abashed as they moved away from her. “Vioget! We did not know,” said Partredi.

Regalado had stood. “What? What is going on?”

“She is not for your use,” Sebastian told him coldly. “They will not touch her. She is mine.”

Regalado’s dark eyes were furious. “You have no authority here!”

Sebastian lifted one brow. “If that is the case, then why do they back away on my command? You do not wish to anger me, Regalado. The Tutela does not wish to displease Beauregard. Or do they?”

“Beauregard?”Regalado stepped back. “How do you—”

“Begone,” Sebastian told the vampires, ignoring Regalado’s stammered question as though it were that of a two-year-old.

The vampires bowed to him as they left and, absurdly, Victoria noticed someone—Max?—had reopened the curtains in the box. The orchestra continued to play; the chorus continued to sing.

She didn’t know what to think. Where to look. At whom to look.

How to feel about being called mine by Sebastian.

Of course, that was probably just for effect. But it still echoed in her mind, along with the fact that she’d been bitten yet again. Fortunately, it was a shallow bite; hardly worth noticing. A short trickle of blood curved along her neck.

Victoria surreptitiously opened the small vial of holy water in her reticule and dampened her handkerchief with it. Then she took stock of the other occupants the room as she pressed it to her wound, hardly feeling the salted holy water.