Chapter 6

 

 

Thankfully, Amelia hadn’t taken Tyrone to the club. She had kept their relationship a secret from everyone she could. Declan and Consuela knew. Delilah told her to end it. Christian didn’t offer an opinion, but it was clear he pitied her.

None of that had helped.

At least, she set Tyrone free the best way she could.

They were admitted into the main portion of the club. She hadn’t thought to ask if Brent had been through the process. But that didn’t matter with her acting as his sponsor. And he was undercover, in disguise. Being a full-fledged member, she could take him where she wanted. Especially now that she was a vampire. Management would watch her to make sure she didn’t endanger her guest, but they watched even the most mundane human.

Amelia took Brent to a table where they would be seen and sat close, leaning in to whisper, “What would you like to drink?”

“Red wine. I’m not picky.”

She caught the waitress’ attention and ordered for Brent. Then again, the only thing she could drink would be blood, and they did offer that. However, she always felt wrong drinking from a glass in front of so many people.

Sooner or later, she would have to drink from the source publicly. She’d done that once, in the club, in a back room a few nights after she first drank from Tyrone. She chose a human, of course.

Her lips quirked as she scanned the people in the bar. She recognized two vampires. Hopefully, if she had to take another sip of Brent’s blood, his magic wouldn’t have the same effect. Either way, she would play the part.

Brent tensed beside her, but didn’t look up, and patiently waited for his drink.

Amelia leaned closer, running her nails up and down his neck. A shudder worked through him, and she longed to see his real visage, preferably without his eyes downcast.

She leaned in to whisper against his ear, “After your wine, you need to trust me.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he murmured.

Figuring it was as good as she was going to get, she wished she had a way to converse with him without words. Maybe after their bond settled, they’d find that ability.

By the time the wine appeared at the table, the vampires had spotted her. She made eye contact with the one who emanated power. Long wavy blond hair, eyes of cerulean skies. Her heartbeat picked up as his lips formed a familiar smile. She’d seen him upon waking for a month. Those same eyes.

Brent stiffened slightly as he caught on and sipped at his wine. He finished faster than she would have expected, and she led him from the table, down a hall, into a round room. One side had a small stage, with a built-in bench outside the rest of the room. This was where the public sex and feedings happened.

There was a human chained to a rack. She wore a scarlet bralette, matching panties, and a tiny black leather skirt that had ridden up.

A female vampire in leather dragged a flogger down the human’s body before slapping the threads across her bare thighs.

A thought entered her head. If Brent were supposed to be her pet, should he be marked in some way? That was something she should have considered before entering the club. However, she could always use the excuse that she was trying him out.

It wasn’t unheard of. She’d seen other vampires do the same before settling on a pet, while others considered their partners equal. And she wanted to consider Brent equal.

Unfortunately, the assignment called for roleplay. Brent playing submissive in this situation proved his trust in her and served a purpose. Especially when he knelt beside her instead of sitting on the bench.

More questions poured through her head. How much would he know about this place? Had he visited many times? Had he played on both sides? Would he expect her to?

 

* * * *

 

Those eyes. The same color leaves turn in autumn brought back memories of his only love.

Eamon fell into Oriana’s stare and the first time he’d set eyes on her thousands of years ago seared into him.

Back when Eamon led his father’s battles. Delaney Mac Domhnaill, the first King of Ossery, trusted Eamon, his only son, to conquer the lords and kings who threatened to encroach on their territory.

He came from a long line of druids. They shifted to wolves, birds of prey, sometimes other animals. They could call the storm and heal. And Eamon was one of the most powerful druids, next to his father.

After a bloody campaign to expand their lands, Eamon came home to find a young woman standing outside his bedroom door. Her hair fell around her white dress in deep red waves.

“What are you doing here, woman?” Eamon asked.

Eyes the color of autumn leaves met his and his breath caught as his heart hammered behind his ribs. First, he found fear in those stunning eyes, but that melted away to hope and desire. “Eamon?”

“I am, and you are?”

“Oriana of the Black Mire clan. We should speak.”

His father came down the hall, a smile on his face. “Eamon, clean up, then we should hear what she has to say. I believe we’ll be going to war once again.” Father gave Oriana a pitying look. “You cannot go home.”

Fear filled her features once again. “I do not wish to go back. I came to warn you of the impending battle. Cadogan Mac Miresland may be my blood, but he’s harmed too many of his own people.”

“Including you?” Eamon asked, more emotion to his tone than he wanted to admit to.

She dipped her head, confirmation written in her downcast eyes.

“Then he shall die with all those who oppose Ossery,” Eamon answered.

Father added, “Would you offer information about the castle? I’ll ensure the battle is clean and painless for the peasants.”

“Of course.”

“Then you have sanctuary.” Father gave Eamon a smile. “Eamon, hurry. I want to hear what she has to say.”

“Thank you,” Oriana whispered to Eamon. She had claimed his heart in that moment.

And there she was, once again in his presence. The sixth time over the many years. And this time, she was more than mortal, or a caster. She was like him.

He wouldn’t be the one to change her, but that never had worked out in the past. This time would be different when he unlocked the chest of her previous lives’ memories.

The new incarnation of Oriana stroked her pet like a lover. That churned his stomach, but it wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t found her soulmate yet. But he planned to change that.

She smiled at him, holding eye contact, so much more boldly than the first time they’d met.

Promising.

Finally, she would have the strength to stand by his side, as she was always meant to do. They could complete the ritual and bring on the world she was promised all those centuries ago.

 

* * * *

 

Why was she dreaming about the blond vampire? She had never seen him before. He wasn’t one of the vampires involved in the Blood Bound game. She would have remembered.

No, the memory, if she could call it that, was from ancient times. Before anything she recognized as something she’d learned in history, not that any school taught Other history. At least none she’d ever gone to.

A vampire entered the room. One she recognized. Drummond McMullen. He’d watched the participants of Blood Bound with interest, but always stuck to the shadows. He’d often watched her as well, but never approached her, until now.

Hopefully he didn’t know much about her. He was huge. Only six foot two, but wide and solid muscle. Long dark hair, green eyes. And he looked like he was one bad mood away from snapping.

Drummond closed the distance, watching her with a shrewd expression. “You were human last I saw you here. You watched the way we drank. Which one of us brought you across?”

“He’s no longer with us.” Amelia figured it was better if they believed her maker was dead. No reason to involve Declan.

“One of Yuri Slovik’s?”

She dipped her head.

“And the vampires around your master?”

“All dead,” She answered.

“And you’ve already found yourself a pet?”

Smiling, she ran her fingers through Brent’s hair. He leaned into her touch, playing along. “I have.”

“He’s well-behaved.”

“Brendan has been perfect.”

“Do you miss being around other vampires? Wouldn’t you like a community around you?”

“That depends on the community,” she answered.

“Smart woman. I’m Drummond McMullen. You are?”

“Amelia Simmons.” She took his offered hand and met the gaze of the blond vampire as he entered the room.

“A pleasure. Please allow me to introduce my master, Eamon Mac Domhnaill. He’s quite drawn to you.”

An edge of panic twisted through Amelia. Eamon hadn’t been a vampire in those dreams. And still, she felt as if she knew him, which didn’t make a damned bit of sense. All from visions that lasted seconds at sundown.

Hints of darkness swirled around Eamon. She could almost wave her hand through something that seemed like shadowy mist. She sensed magic better since she’d taken Brent’s blood. She thought her senses were on high alert after becoming a vampire, but that didn’t compare to what she sensed now.

Eamon took her hand and placed his ice-cold lips to her knuckles. The kiss both aroused and terrified her. “Amelia, a beautiful name for such a lovely woman.”

She barely held back the snort. “Thank you.”

“And how did you find your pet? Did you lure him in with those unusual eyes, full of innocence and pain?”

“I’m no innocent,” she answered.

“No, not with what you are. Though you have the appearance of the Sidhe. Did your pet believe he was saving you when you lured him in?”

He referenced the Irish Fae. Interesting. At least she could tell him the partial truth. She caressed Brent’s head. “Hmm, he resisted me, believing he could only corrupt me. And now, he sits at my feet, ready to obey my every whim.”

Colors fluctuated, snickering floating through the air. The spirits seemed amused. Brent made no outward reaction. Not surprising, considering his years in captivity.

Still, watching him act like a slave was unnerving. Perhaps the spirits could communicate for Brent. Not that they knew her well enough to tell him her plan.

“May I have a word with your pet?” Eamon asked.

Her brow arched. “Sure.”

Crouching down, Eamon attempted to get Brent’s attention, but his eyes stayed down.

“Your name?”

Nothing. Brent uttered not a syllable.

Eamon smiled at her. “You’ve trained him well. Please instruct him to respond to me.”

Amelia trailed her fingers through Brent’s hair. “You may answer one question from Eamon.”

Eamon grinned up at her. “Wise for your youth.” Directing his attention to Brent, he asked, “What is your name?”

“Brendan Blackmire.”

Amelia remained unmoved, but had to wonder how he came up with such a name so fast. And why did Eamon flinch?

“Interesting choice in a meal. I sense hints of magic, though nothing solid, or strong enough to be a concern.”

Amelia smiled as Eamon stood and met her gaze. “That a problem?” she asked.

“No,” Eamon answered. “Curious, though. You don’t act as one of the new Shadowstalkers. He must be very weak.”

A smirk played across her lips. “I did manage to sway him, and as you say, I am a young Shadowstalker.”

“One without a master. Curious indeed, though perhaps you inherited your power when your maker died.”

“Perhaps.” She knew how that worked, though her maker was very much still around. She didn’t want to bring either Consuela or Declan into this mess, though.

Three more vampires walked into the room. All of them had their own pet. The others were not nearly so well-behaved.

Dread crept down Amelia’s spine. This situation was above her head. She wasn’t sure what to do or how to act.

 

* * * *

 

Eamon Mac Domhnaill was the gateway to hell on Earth. The ancient Gaelic vampire was turned thousands of years ago when the entity Crom Cruach was summoned. The story went that Eamon’s wife had summoned Crom, though the reason why was never documented, nor how she died.

Somehow, the ritual was broken, and Eamon suffered wounds. Crom Cruach’s essence entered Eamon’s bloodstream, and the first vampire was born. After becoming king, he turned those he trusted.

The first few vampires were born, their power greater than anything most had ever encountered. Some believed the first vampires had died over the eons, but clearly, they were still around.

Drummond was Eamon’s second-in-command. The other three who entered the room were of no importance that he could discern. Maybe Eamon’s current followers? There had to be more to the story.

Brent would have to hold onto the glamour until this case was over. He had grown and changed in the years since, but not enough to risk both his and Amelia’s lives.

Brent had killed Drummond’s blood bound. Inuala was the woman who had captured him and brought him to the cavern in a place where the veil between worlds was thin enough for entities to come across.

A thousand questions cropped up. Where had Eamon been when he was trapped in the cavern? There had been other blood slaves captured, though he was kept separate from the rest. And the only one they ensured stayed alive.

At least Amelia kept her wits about her. She played the part of a young, powerful, and eager to learn vampire to perfection. If Brent didn’t know her, or their bond wasn’t firmly in place, he would truly be worried, because Eamon certainly reacted to her. And she reacted to him.

What was he missing? He needed to piece the puzzle together. In fact, in the morning, after she was down for the day, Brent had every intention of visiting Edenton for more information and added protection. He had friends there who could provide both.

One part of him wanted to pull her out of the investigation and ensure her safety. The rest of him wanted to force answers from these vampires. Only he knew, he was no match. There were ways, but that would require Amelia to go deeper and further than he had initially anticipated.

This wasn’t going to be simply infiltrating a group of vampires. This was getting close to the first vampire and delving into his blood cult that wanted to bring a god into this world.

And the reason the vampire elders hadn’t gotten involved started to make sense. Eamon created half the current Elders. In fact, they had once tried to kill Eamon, and he slaughtered most of the old Elders. Only six elders were left. Three of them were Eamon’s creation. The other three had been wiser.

Gaius was not one of Eamon’s, though he was nearly as old. And he had helped with Blood Bound. Perhaps he was the only Elder who could help, if he were willing.

Soon after Brent had escaped the blood cult, the Elders tracked him down since he’d taken the habit of killing every vampire he came across. Gaius took the time to hear his story, and convinced the others to let him live. They all knew what would happen if Crom Cruach was truly summoned.

“Are you planning to use the stage?” One of the new vampires asked.

Amelia spoke up, “Not tonight. My goal was to make new acquaintances. I’m afraid I haven’t been around my own kind much since my creation.”

Brent wanted to groan. That would either send up red flags, or gain their attention.

“Amelia was recently brought over, but her sire is dead. She’s has already trained her pet well. I want to get to know her.” Eamon moved closer to Amelia.

Brent bit his tongue and reminded himself they were playing a dangerous game, and Amelia was doing her job. Brent would have to watch her flirt and possibly more during his investigation. He already hated taking the story, but in afterthought, he was the best person for the job.

Hell. Bloody abyss. Damnation. Maybe this is punishment for my murderous past.

The conversation continued in pleasantries as the vampires attempted to pry information out of Amelia. Her answers were vague, leading them in circles, but she was charming enough they continued the verbal dance.

And he knelt beside her, never moving, only hoping this would end soon. They would have to go deeper to learn anything more. He had hints already. Nothing solid, and he would have to talk to Tremaine, see if he had any other information hidden anywhere.

Time flowed by in a never-ending conversation while the human chained to the rack moaned and cried out in ecstasy.

Amelia remained completely unfazed.

Finally, Eamon murmured, “Tomorrow there will be a gathering of like-minded vampires in a private room at Del Sangre Bar. Meet us at ten. I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

Within seconds, Amelia and Brent were alone.

“Come with me,” she beckoned in that purr that had him on edge all night long.

He rose to his feet and followed her out, acting the part of the submissive. As soon as they were behind his door at home, he would have her properly, no holding back.