Cathedral (Cradle of Darkness 1)

Daylight’s rays might not kill her, but they still gave her pain.

Jade should never know pain unless it was to make her better. Had she been mine in that long-ago time, I would have only beaten her to guide her to prosperity.

Now I tucked her into bed, the vulnerable daywalker none the wiser. And I waited with her until my skin began to blister and the stink of burning flesh tickled her nose.

Casting a magical gate, I retreated from the cursed sun, straight to the pens to feed. I ate ten men in the twenty-two minutes since I’d been forced to be parted from her.

And then I went to my private rooms, to my monitors, to guard her sleep. I’d rest another day, perhaps in a year or two. Old as I was, I no longer required much time in the coffin.

I’d refused sleep since I’d first set eyes on her.

The very woman who turned over, settling into the pillows, and slept as if the thousands of undead in the Cathedral didn’t want to see her dead.

Watching her, I pulled down my fly.

Chapter Eleven

Jade

I hated waking up in my father’s Cathedral, baked and aching from so much direct sun. I swear, the conservatory was designed to amplify discomfort, the glass panes gathering daylight to dump on my head and burn me senseless. To make me stronger, my father claimed.

What it made me was irritable. Head pounding, I sat up to find a fresh glass of water had been left at my bedside. Parched, lips cracked, skin taking on a stinging pink burn, I drained the whole thing with no care for who had left it.

Or what poisons might be inside.

Instant relief, but only a temporary one. I could walk in the sun naked the whole day through and survive it, but to do so would leave me weak, horribly sunburned. Fortunately, I had fed well last night.

Which was the last thing I wanted to think about.

In the main room, breakfast waited under a silver dome. Fluffy omelet with ham and… a teacup of blood. Fresh, so fresh it must have only just been milked from a vein.

“What the fuck…”

Beside it sat a note, folded over and written on fine paper.

Finish your breakfast. All of it. Afterward, your weekly commitment to the Cathedral will be considered complete, and you may return to your apartment.

Malcom’s feeding schedule. I wanted to roll my eyes, but it was impossible to remove them from the black liquid, warm and smelling of everything I’d ever wanted. Rim of the cup at my lips, I sipped before my mind might warn me of the trick. One taste, and both my hands pressed the china closer so I might gorge.

In a frenzy to swallow every last drop, I’d begun to moan, to use my fingers to scoop out any lingering smear. And then I split the porcelain in half so I might lick the inside completely clean.

My skin no longer burned, my throat was soothed, and my eyes cleared.

As did my thoughts when not a single scented molecule of a disturbingly familiar flavor remained.

Malcom.

The fresh vampire blood had come from him. Which meant he was watching this, most likely grinning. That he’d mock me mercilessly later.

Fingers fluttering, I dropped the split halves of the teacup, checking the corners of the room for laughing immortals. I was alone. Of course I was. The sun was up. None of them could touch me here. But it still felt as if he were in the room with me.

He had been inside me.

The room still held traces of his scent from all the hours he’d haunted my space last night. Eyes back to a note written in his vicious penmanship, I found the arrogant scrawl such an obvious taunt that my cheeks burned.

Had I not been groggy, uncomfortable in so much light, and eager for breakfast, I’d never have fallen for his trick… like a true idiot.

Feeding schedule.

Jesus, was I doomed to drink my food from a teacup? Was I to be denied the throats of my prey?

He wouldn’t dare! Such a thing was unnatural; even as a daywalker, I cringed at the thought.

Finish your breakfast. All of it. I could hear his voice in my head, his snide tone sinister. I could even feel his goddamn smirk.

I didn’t even want the human food, just as I had not wanted so much as a bite of the lamb from last night. I was full enough. And I hated when he treated me like a human. Especially here.

There was no higher insult in the Cathedral.

Golden fork to my dish, I shoveled in eggs yet tasted nothing. All I got for my trouble was a sour stomach, a sinking feeling, and growing resentment. But I cleaned that plate. I drank the juice. Swallowed each crumb, and then I fled the Cathedral to find sanctuary in my home.