Bound by Flames, Page 4

  I stared at him in silence. With the sun rendering me unconscious from dawn to dusk, I hadn’t seen him sleep since he’d changed me into a vampire. Even before that, it had been a rarity. Was it my new, super-sharp vision or did he look a little different with his features relaxed in slumber? Sure, those winged brows were just as prominent, but his lips were parted instead of curled into the sardonic half smile he usually wore. Dark stubble clung to the lower half of his face, but his jaw wasn’t set in its normal, unyielding lines. Closed eyelids hid the penetrating stare he so often leveled at others and for a few moments, the changes let me imagine that I could see hints of the innocence Vlad must have had, once upon a time when he was human.

  I came closer, wondering what he’d been like before the brutalities of his life had hardened him into the complex, lethal man I’d fallen in love with. Did he have any happy memories from his childhood? Or had the dangerous political circumstances he’d been born into stolen that from him? As a child, had he ever been afraid of the dark? I leaned down, wanting to touch him but not wanting him to wake up yet—

  Flames blasted into me. I screamed, throwing up my arms in instinctive defense before I remembered that I was currently fireproof. In the next instant, I was seized in a viselike grip, Vlad’s hard chest almost bruising my cheek from how forcefully he yanked me to him. Worse, the emotions that tore through my subconscious were so frenzied, I couldn’t tell if he was alarmed, enraged, or a seething combination of both.

  Szilagyi must have found us! I braced for the next attack, wondering why Vlad wasn’t moving. Was he hurt? I tried to push him away to look, but he didn’t budge. Then water hit us, soaking our clothes and filling me with fresh panic.

  “Vlad, what is it?” I almost screamed.

  Shouts from his guards echoed my urgency. Just as abruptly, he let me go, barking out an order in Romanian that caused the guards rushing down the hallway to skid to a stop.

  That’s when I saw what we were being soaked with. Ceiling sprinklers, activated by the fire that must have come from . . . Vlad, I realized as I glanced around the room. No one was in here with us and no one was attacking from outside. So why had he unleashed a fireball that reduced the area where he’d been sitting to smoldering ruins?

  “Gretchen, Leila!” My father’s bellow cut through the guards’ confused replies. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” came Gretchen’s response, followed by a glimpse of my dad through the half-open door. He was trying to shoulder his way past the five vampire guards who looked as perplexed as I did over what had just happened.

  “I’m fine, too,” I said, not adding “But still undead” only because I was too shocked to remind my dad this was the first time he’d spoken to me since he found out I’d become a vampire.

  Vlad said something in Romanian that I loosely translated as “back to your stations” before he shut the bedroom door on everyone in the hallway. A door slammed on his emotions, too, cutting off the geyser that had erupted out of him almost as violently as those flames had.

  The sprinklers, however, kept dousing us with water. I wiped some off my face before asking “What happened?” in as calm a tone as I could manage.

  Vlad turned to me. His expression was closed off, but his features were sharpened with so much tension, I couldn’t believe I’d imagined that he looked innocent minutes before.

  “Bad dream,” he said shortly.

  “You flash-fried a ten-foot radius because of a dream?” Only the sounds from a nearby heartbeat, indicating my father’s lingering presence in the hallway kept me from raising my voice in disbelief.

  His reply came out through gritted teeth. “Yes.”

  I glanced at the ruined carpet, chair and laptop before returning my gaze to him. “Does this, ah, happen a lot?”

  “No.”

  Another one-word answer, as if his tone wasn’t already conveying that he didn’t want to talk about it. Well, if you give your wife a flaming facial; she’s not going to drop the subject.

  “What was the dream?” I persisted.

  His mouth twisted into a smile that was part annoyed, part challenging. “Are you certain you want to know?”

  “I told you before, your secrets don’t scare me,” I replied, holding his burnished copper gaze. “Besides, I’m not tired anymore and clearly, neither are you.”

  This time, his smile held shades of darkness that still didn’t warn me away. Pandora must’ve felt the same way when she couldn’t stop herself from opening that infamous box.

  “Not here. We’ve given my people enough to wonder about as it is.”

  He pulled me to him. In two strides, we were at the window, and then he was flying me through it.

  Chapter 6

  Tuscany was beautiful at night. Of course, I hadn’t seen it during the day, but the quiet that draped over the picturesque countryside and old-world architecture made flying over towns such as Casole d’Elsa and Cetona feel romantic despite the circumstances. Eventually, Vlad set us down at the edge of a vineyard, leading me beneath a gnarled tree that might have been as old as he was, judging from its height and girth.

  Vlad left me by that thick trunk to pace a few feet away. I didn’t say anything. He’d brought me out here, so he’d tell me what was bothering him when he was ready.

  “I’ve been imprisoned twice in my life,” he began, his crisp words belying the surge I felt as he dropped his walls and let me back into his feelings. “Once as a boy when my father bartered me in exchange for political security, and again two decades later when Mihaly Szilagyi compelled the king of Hungary to incarcerate me after I first lost my throne.”

  “I know,” I said, remembering the only time he’d spoken of his childhood captivity. That man wouldn’t have survived years of beatings and rape as a boy because sheer hatred kept him from breaking . . .

  He shot me a look, as if he knew what I’d been thinking. “The second time was worse, though I was only starved instead of tortured and raped. Do you know why it was more unbearable?”

  “No,” I whispered. How could anything be worse than that?

  His gaze filled with a terrible knowledge while his irises changed from copper to brilliant green.

  “Because love cuts deeper than the sharpest blade, cripples more than shattered bones, and leaves scars that can never fade. Szilagyi held my son’s life over me the entire time I was his captive, and being helpless to protect my child was worse torment than anything my previous captors had done. After my wife killed herself, I swore I’d never love another woman. When Szilagyi later had my son murdered, I didn’t want to care about anyone again, ever. Love had broken me, so I replaced it with revenge, ruthlessness, and the determination not to be at anyone’s mercy, be they enemy, lover or friend. It’s why I’ve protected my people as a whole, yet refused to value one person more than the other, and also why I’ve had few lovers and even fewer friends. For over five hundred years, I structured my life to keep my vow never to let anyone touch my heart again.”

  I couldn’t stop the tear that slid down my cheek as his emotions changed from bitter remembrance to something richer, deeper, and at the same time, even more fierce. Vlad touched the trail my tear made and smiled with fleeting, jaded amusement.

  “Too late to weep for my lost vow, Leila. You’re the one who forced me to break it.”

  “I’m not sorry,” I said softly, turning my head to kiss his palm. “I can’t be. Not when I love you more than anything, too.”

  He stroked my face, then dropped his hand. “Long ago, I used to dream that I was back in prison. My rage over my helplessness would sometimes cause me to wake up with my hands on fire. Those dreams went away with time, but another one never did. It’s the same thing I dreamt earlier: I’m by the river, holding my wife’s dead body and screaming . . .”

  I closed my eyes. He’d asked me if I really wanted to know what he’d dreamed and I’d said yes. How would I have guessed that it would hurt me, too? Vlad didn’t ha
ve to tell me how much he had loved his former wife. I’d felt it when I relived that day by the river the first time I touched him. His guilt over her suicide was the sin he held closest to his skin.

  “ . . . only this time, when I pushed her hair back, I didn’t see Clara’s face,” Vlad went on, his newly harsh tone snapping my eyes open. “I saw yours.”

  I drew in a breath out of shock. His smile was a grim slash while his gaze burned into mine.

  “Thinking I’d lost you is why I nearly blew up the bedroom in my sleep. I know I . . . overreacted by smothering your abilities. It was wrong of me, but I can’t say I’m sorry. I am at war with an enemy who is smart, powerful, and ruthless, but Szilagyi doesn’t need to strike me down to win. You aren’t just my weakness, Leila.” Vlad drew me next to him, one hand sliding along my jaw while the other caressed my back. “You are my destruction, because if I were to lose you, it would finish me.”

  He kissed me then, deep and passionate, while his emotions swirled with equal intensity through mine. They reaffirmed that he wasn’t sorry about what he’d done, would in fact do it again, but they also whispered something else amidst the violent determination that said he’d do anything to protect me.

  Forgive me.

  I felt drowned by the feelings he continued to pour into me while his mouth devastated me in different ways. The sensations were overwhelming, yet I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him closer. He thought I was his destruction, but he was wrong. Vlad was the fire that would inevitably consume me, and even though I knew that, I wasn’t backing away. Instead, I’d become the phoenix that kept rising from the ashes because I would not, could not, let him go.

  I broke our kiss to whisper two words that meant more than ending our weeklong abstinence. They also meant I’d give up trying to fight Szilagyi through my abilities, when they finally returned. Instead, I’d fight him by taking myself out of the battle, allowing Vlad to arm himself with the knowledge that I was safe. Maybe that was worth more to him than all my psychic abilities combined.

  “You’re forgiven.”

  I didn’t expect that my vow would be tested so soon, but only a month later, Vlad received a text from a burner phone with the numbers 1088 making up the entirety of the message. That meant it was from Maximus, and he’d left a handwritten message for Vlad containing important information in one of their three prearranged locations. Just conveying the information via text, e-mail, or a phone call would’ve been far quicker, but those also left a permanent trail that Szilagyi could find. Even if Maximus’s text had been intercepted and read by someone else, only Vlad knew the significance of the numbers 1088: the year Maximus was born, as specific as a signature.

  Of course, personally retrieving what Maximus left for him was also far more dangerous. Vlad wasn’t taking bodyguards, for the same reason he insisted on retrieving the message himself: He wanted no one to know that Maximus was spying for him. I didn’t think Maximus would willingly betray Vlad, but I still worried that Vlad might be walking into an ambush. What if Maximus made contact with Szilagyi, and then was followed when he made the message drop? What if Szilagyi had found Maximus out and had forced him to lure Vlad into a trap?

  I tried to ignore the ominous scenarios my mind kept coming up with as I asked, “How long will you be gone?” in as neutral a tone as I could manage.

  “Perhaps a few days, perhaps a week,” he replied.

  His vagueness only inflamed my morbidly spinning thoughts. Unless Maximus’s information allows him to attack Szilagyi. Then, he’s not coming back until one of them is dead.

  I touched his arm, wishing I could feel something aside from the thick, smooth fabric of his coat, but my abilities were still buried beneath who-knew-how-many layers of Vlad’s aura.

  “Be careful.”

  His smile reminded me that I was admonishing one of the world’s most powerful vampires as if he was a kid about to cross the street. I flashed him an answering, rueful grin.

  “I can’t help it,” I said, slipping my arms around his neck. “I love you, so I worry.”

  Hard arms encircled me and he bent until his mouth was a velvet brand against my ear.

  “I understand completely, which is why I’m clearing all nonessential staff out of the house. I won’t risk another wolf in sheep’s clothing around you, and if someone here so much as gives you an uneasy vibe, have them thrown into the dungeon. I’ll sort it out once I return.”

  Laughter choked in my throat. And I thought I was being paranoid. If Vlad truly thought any of the people in this house were a threat, they’d already be decorating a long wooden pole.

  “Dungeon. Got it.” Hey, if it made him feel better . . .

  His mouth claimed mine in a kiss that suffused my whole body with slow, delicious heat. When he let me go, a knowing smile curled his lips.

  “That should ensure you’ll miss me,” he said with his usual arrogance, “but this will help the time pass more pleasantly.”

  I was still shaking my head when he turned me around to face the massive front doors. They opened, revealing a four-foot-tall vampire with black hair and bushy sideburns.

  “Marty!” I said, both surprised and delighted.

  My best friend grinned at me. “Come here, kid.”

  I left Vlad’s arms to throw mine around Marty when I reached him. He hugged me back, bracing at the voltage he absorbed because I wasn’t wearing my gloves. I seldom did when I was with Vlad. I made a mental note to put them back on now that Vlad was leaving and gave Marty a final pat with my left hand.

  “I’m so glad to see you, but what are you doing here?”

  “You’re giving me grief for swinging by to see you while I was in Europe?” he replied with mock reprimand.

  “Of course not,” I said, but inwardly, I wasn’t buying it. The only time Marty liked to travel was when he was performing on the carnival circuit. Plus, he hated Europe. He’d told me years ago that he didn’t understand why so many people went there to see a bunch of “old stuff.” The irony of a hundred-and-thirty-something-year-old vampire making that statement was lost on him, but it had amused me to no end.

  I let the reason behind his visit drop because I only had moments left with Vlad. Besides, I wouldn’t interrogate Marty as soon as he walked through the door. I’d wait until after dinner.

  Vlad was already behind me when I turned around. He exchanged polite if somewhat brisk hellos with Marty and then slipped something into my pocket.

  “I won’t always have my regular mobile on me, but in case of emergency, push the red button on this. It’s programmed to a mobile I will always carry.”

  “Okay.” I gave him a final kiss and stopped myself before telling him to be careful again. “You know where to reach me,” I joked instead. Then I became serious. “You haven’t told me not to go anywhere—big progress for you—but so you know, I won’t. So don’t worry about me. Just do what you need to do.”

  I felt the warm brush of his hand on my face, then he left without a backward glance. I told myself it was my imagination that the doors seemed to close with ominous finality behind him.

  He’ll be fine, I mentally reassured myself. Even if this was a setup, if Vlad caught a glimpse of Szilagyi, he could burn him into ash before Szilagyi even had a chance to scream.

  I turned to Marty, giving him a smile that felt forced despite how happy I was to see him.

  “You hungry? I am, and Vlad has plenty of live-in human blood donors to help with that, so let’s go downstairs and say hi to my friends with pulses.”

  Chapter 7

  The next few days dragged even though I slept through half of them. Try as I might, I still couldn’t wake up much before dusk. Plus, it soon became clear that something was bothering Marty. He tried to pass off that he was his normal, jovial self, but beneath all his smiles, jokes and genuine happiness to see me, I kept catching glimpses of something else. Annoyance, I would’ve expected. Vlad must’ve insisted that Marty come here to play baby
sitter, and no one liked being ordered around, especially by someone who’d once tortured you. Yet I didn’t sense any annoyance from Marty during the rare moments he let his guard down. Instead, it was an odd sort of . . . sadness.

  I was determined to find out why.

  On the fourth night, Marty and I were walking around the exterior of Vlad’s castle, enjoying the coolness of the predawn summer morning. We were well within sight of the guards on the surrounding wall and towers, but two more followed us on foot, although Dorian and Alexandru stayed a polite distance behind.

  “If Szilagyi wasn’t on the loose, you’d be wrapping up carnival season right now,” I said, thinking of how different my life was compared to a year ago. Had I never met Vlad, I would’ve been at the carnivals with Marty, hiding my abilities and identity behind my stage name, the Fantastic Frankie.

  Nothing changed in Marty’s expression, but his scent soured as he said “No big deal,” in a tone filled with false pleasantness.

  I stopped so suddenly that the guards trailing us looked around in alarm.

  “Spill it,” I told Marty. “Something big has been eating at you, and it’s not just because Vlad must’ve insisted that you babysit me—although my apologies for that. Sometimes, he forgets that he’s not a medieval warlord anymore.”

  Marty snorted. “Vlad will always be a medieval warlord. You’re the only one who keeps forgetting that about him.”

  “Don’t change the subject,” I said, although he probably had a point. “What’s going on, and if you say ‘nothing’ one more time, I’m going to electrocute you.”

  Marty stared at me, not speaking for so long, I was about to zap him to show him I meant business. At last, he spoke.

  “I’m out of the circuit,” he said, his shrug seeming to add, Shit happens, what are you gonna do?

  Guilt pricked me. “I’m sorry you have to miss this season, but Szilagyi went after you before. Once we catch him—”