“Where are you taking me?” he asked raggedly, trying to breathe through his nose, through the increasing desire to slice his fangs into something fresh. Living. He fought the impulse, though instinct told him it was the only thing that would satisfy him. Sustain him.
He thought of her. The soft slope of her neck. The gentle give of her mouth.
The ultimate satisfaction lay with her. Somehow it was indisputable fact.
No. No, goddammit.
“Where is Roksana?”
“We’re bringing you to her now.”
“No. I…” He buried his head in his hands and squeezed hard, alarmed by the absence of prolonged pain. “Please no. I don’t think she’s safe around me.”
He glanced up to find Inessa’s surprised gaze locked on him in the rearview. “How curious,” she murmured. “Still he worries for her well-being?”
Elias scanned the faces of the other vampires, finding their expressions confused. Why? “You swore she would be spared,” he shouted at Inessa, wincing as a painful ringing started in his ears. Brought on by the hunger? Yes, it had to be. He couldn’t close his eyes without picturing awful scenes. Holding down Roksana and burying his fangs in her neck, the blood surging thicker and faster into his mouth the more she thrashed. “Fuck,” he rasped into his hands, self-loathing pouring over him like boiling oil.
Never. I will never.
“Yes, I did agree to spare her, but I didn’t say how,” Inessa said, her eyes ticking back to the road. The van began to slow, finally stopping outside a small, white wedding chapel. Elias leaned forward and saw that a statue of guitar-playing Elvis sat positioned near the door. “It will be up to you to keep her safe, Elias. Think you can manage?”
Again, a ripple of disgusting laughter filled the van and Elias’s stomach swarmed with nausea like he’d never experienced before. An inhuman variety. It was anticipation and denial, wrapped tightly around an unholy requirement for sustenance. Needing blood sickened him, but not enough to stop wanting it. Pining for it.
Elias was barely conscious of being hauled out of the van, propelled toward the door of the chapel in a moving huddle of a dozen vampires. He could sense the excitement and bloodlust in them, could see them licking the tips of their fangs through his adjusting vision.
They were there to kill Roksana’s friends.
On Inessa’s order. To punish Roksana for her disobedience without her realizing her mother was responsible and thus, bringing her back into the fold.
No. Not a fucking chance he’d let this happen. He’d only spent one too-short night in her presence, but this was a girl who loved deeply and fiercely. Losing her friends in one fell swoop—violently—would crush Roksana. He’d witnessed the affection between the girls. The bond. And he knew all too well what it was like watching a friend die.
Elias had to stop them.
Before they could reach the door of the chapel, Elias turned and launched a right cross at the vampire to his left, but his fist moved at an unnatural rate of speed, carrying his body with it so he stumbled on the sidewalk and missed his target completely, landing him yards away. Dizziness rocked him.
Thirst was a bottomless pit in his stomach and it yawned wider by the second.
Fight it.
Elias spun around and gripped the closest vampire by his shirt, hauling back with his fist, but when he normally would have buried his knuckles in the guy’s smug face, his arm slingshotted and Elias himself went flying, landing on his hands and knees before the statue of Elvis.
Laughter cut through the night, self-disgust impaling him like a dagger.
“Are you finished?” one of the vampires asked, gripping Elias by the hair and yanking back his head. “You may have held on to some of your humanity, but your motor skills are a thing of the past. It will take time. Time you don’t have right now, so get the hell up.”
Elias struggled through being pulled to his feet, but quickly he saw the vampire was right. He lacked any control over his new abilities. It was as though he’d been put in the captain’s chair of a rocket ship. Jesus. He couldn’t save Roksana’s friends.
He wasn’t even sure he could save her.
From himself.
Someone tried to handle of the chapel door, but it was locked. A sign hung on the door that read, “Ceremony in progress.”
Elias’s focus wavered, thirst ripping his chest open.
There was a blur to his right. In an eerie mimicry of S.W.A.T. procedure, a foot kicked in the chapel door, again making him wish for his teammates. Kenny, Jenks. Anyone to help.
But there was no time for regrets.
Light spilled out and there she was.
Roksana.
She stood at the front of the church, to the left of the bride and groom. Dressed in a blue gown, she held a bouquet of pink roses in her hand.