Blood Ties Bundle: Blood Ties Book One: The Turning / Blood Ties Book Two: Possession / Blood Ties Book Three: Ashes to Ashes / Blood Ties Book Four: All Souls' Night. Jennifer Armintrout
Looking back proved to be a fatal mistake. Her feet tangled beneath her and she sank to the ground. All four vampires fell on her. She didn’t scream this time.
It took them only a moment to finish her. As they dispersed, I caught a glimpse of the body, or what was left of it. They’d ripped her apart and fed until not even her organs remained inside her mangled corpse. She looked like a rag doll whose stuffing had been ripped out.
I turned away from the window, my body shaking. My heart raced and my lungs burned with the exertion of my heavy breathing. But my reaction came not from horror. Not from disgust at what I’d seen. I’d liked it.
I’d wanted to be with those vampires. I’d wanted to feel her flesh tear beneath my claws, to rip skin and sinews with my teeth.
Now I, Dr. Carrie Ames, who took the Hippocratic oath before a crowded auditorium, vowing to never cause harm, never aid death, wanted to kill.
Sick to my stomach, I forced myself not to look at the grisly scene as I reached to pull the curtains closed.
I went back to bed, but sleep eluded me. Primal and raw, my hunger tormented me. The knowledge I could simply walk down the hall and pick out a tender, willing human to feed from made it ten times worse. Shuddering and sweating, I resolved to stay where I was. I could ask for blood—in a cup—after sunset.
But that seemed so very far away.
Through the day, as I lay awake, I heard the secret door to the sitting room open several times. I’d jolt upright and listen to footsteps cross the floor. They always retreated before they reached my door.
Exhausted, I fell asleep just before sunset. I’d only slept an hour when the footsteps returned.
Thinking to catch Cyrus creeping around my parlor, I pulled on my robe and headed for the bedroom door. The house was spooky enough without him lurking around. I was surprised to find that it wasn’t Cyrus who was making all that noise, but the butler. He went about his business, opening the drapes and building up the fire. I didn’t think he’d seen me enter until he spoke.
“Don’t get any bright ideas or I’ll push your demon ass into this fireplace so fast you’ll be in hell before you know what happened.”
I approached him slowly, not doubting he meant what he said. “I’m not that kind of vampire.”
If you say it enough, maybe you’ll believe it.
“Sure. I suppose you’re a good guy, right? We get a lot of those around here, so you’ll have to excuse me for not trusting you.” He pulled back the collar of his tuxedo jacket and revealed a series of bumpy, keloid scars on his throat. “Bite me once, shame on you. Bite me twice, shame on me.”
I sat in one of the stiff wing chairs and rubbed my eyes. “That’s a good personal motto. Another good one would be ‘don’t work for vampires.’”
He straightened and turned to face me. His dark eyes glittered in the firelight, and I thought it might be humor I saw in them. “For future reference, most ‘people’ don’t talk to the help. Just imagine that I’m invisible.”
“Sorry. I’m new here.”
The secret passageway opened, and Cyrus entered without knocking. I stood as though he were royalty. I’m not sure why.
He wore a silk dressing gown tied loosely enough to make me acutely uncomfortable. His torso was hard and well-defined. A perfect body, with the exception of the thick scar that ran from his collarbone to his stomach.
An injury like that would have been deadly six hundred years ago, so he must have been human at the time to keep a scar. A vampire would have healed. I touched the scar on my neck. Cyrus must have incurred the injury before he’d completely changed into a vampire.
He yawned and stretched like someone who’d had the luxury of too much sleep, and his unbound hair brushed the floor with the motion. “Rested and ready for the night?”
I shook my head. “Someone was creeping around my room all day.”
“Clarence, I hope you apologized for waking Carrie,” Cyrus admonished the butler.
“I don’t think it was Clarence who woke me.”
Like some kind of reverse genie, Clarence disappeared at the mention of his name. I heard the parlor door click softly shut.
“I did come in to check on you.” Cyrus slipped behind me and stole my chair, pulling me into his lap as he did so. I yelped in surprise as I felt his ice-cold skin through my robe and tried to rearrange the fabric over my bare legs. Sprawled as I was over him, it was hard to maintain a ladylike appearance. He took advantage of the position and slipped his hand between the slightly parted fabric. “I felt your distress at the scene in the garden. And your excitement.”
I swallowed as his fingers teased my inner thigh. “You saw that?”
“It was spectacular, wasn’t it?” He inched his fingers up the hem of my T-shirt. “They’re such vulgar creatures, but I love the way they feed, the pack mentality of it.”
“Yeah, it’s a regular nature special.” I pushed his hand away and stood, whirling around to face him. “Did you tell them to do that? So I could see?”
Standing had been the wrong move. My wriggling had dislodged the tie of his robe completely, and he made no move to cover himself. I tried to look anywhere but where carnal curiosity forced me to. Not that I wanted to look at his immensely pleased face, either. He seemed delighted by my embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?”
“You forget, I’m a doctor. Or was,” I added with a surprising twinge of guilt. “I’ve seen plenty of naked bodies before. They all sort of look the same after a while.”
“Really?” He stood, far too close to me.
“Did you or did you not tell them to kill Cami?” His intimidation wasn’t going to work. At least, I hoped it wouldn’t.
“You’re really no fun, do you know that?” he said. “No, I didn’t arrange that little spectacle. I rather discourage the notion of feeding outside. As large as the grounds are, her screams probably carried to the neighbors. I find police investigations tedious at best, though I do harbor a fondness for handcuffs.”
I rolled my eyes. “There’s a cliché if I ever heard one.”
“I couldn’t resist.” Cyrus circled me slowly, tapping his lips with his forefinger. “Something is off about you. I can feel it.”
“I am a bit hungry,” I admitted. “But I’m not interested in human sacrifice. Can you get any of your pets to donate blood?”
He stopped behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders. Before I could stop him, he tugged my robe backward. The tie came loose and I stood before him in only the dark blue T-shirt I’d worn to bed, the one Nathan had loaned me.
Leaning close to my neck, Cyrus sniffed at the collar. “That’s what the problem is.”
He spun me, grasping my upper arms so hard I knew I’d have bruises that would heal in a moment. “Go take this thing off and deliver it to Clarence to be destroyed, along with any other reminder of him you might have thought to bring along.”
Though I didn’t mean to, I flinched from the pain in my arms. “What happened to not pressing your will?”
With a snarl of anger, he pushed me. I landed hard on one of the delicately embroidered chairs, the impact of my fall skidding it backward.
Cyrus loomed over me, bracing himself on the polished wooden arms of the chair. “Do not abuse my patience and I won’t need to display the force of my will.”
For the first time, I felt utterly weak and vulnerable beside him. I knew he wouldn’t kill me. He was too fond of his trophy. But that served little comfort when I knew exactly how much torture