Blood Deep. Sharon Page
They strode over, and though she kicked and struggled, she could not break free. She could not even see the wreck of the carriage, though she felt a perverse sense of satisfaction when the vampires paused, and the one holding her groaned.
She remembered what it had looked like. Jagged shards of once gleaming wood had jutted up into the air. The door had been hanging off. Bits of one wheel were strewn about.
She could also smell the vampires’ burning skin.
The vampire who held her snapped his fingers. At once, she heard the horses neigh, then the sloppy sound of hooves fighting through the mud. Within moments, the horses had returned, tossing their heads.
“Gentle,” the vampire murmured, holding up his hand. Manes waved in the snow-laden air, but the animals stopped prancing and fussing, then lowered their heads.
Docile fools, she thought.
Zayan waved his hand in a graceful circle. He conjured a vivid purple light that twined around his arm like a snake.
The light spun through the air and hit the carriage, where it seemed to rain down like soft rose petals. All she could see was a lovely violet glow.
As in the fairy tale Cinderella, a carriage materialized before her eyes—but not from a pumpkin and mice, from the wreckage of Simon’s best traveling coach. She blinked hard. As her lids lifted, she discovered the horses in their traces.
She twisted in the grasp of the vampire in the wolf’s cloak. “What did you do?”
“It would be much better for you to travel in comfort,” Zayan answered.
“That’s not what I mean. You can’t just wave your hand and have a broken carriage leap back onto its wheels, fixed and perfect! It’s not possible.”
“That is the power of magic.”
The vampire holding her began to stride to the magically repaired carriage. “Enough talk. We need refuge from the light.” The hand massaged her derriere in the most scandalous way. Unwanted heat rushed through her.
She should be terrified, not growing hot. Not breathing in this…aroused way.
Vampires, Aunt Eugenia had warned, could control a woman’s mind. With ease, apparently. And they possessed an allure no woman had to resist, a “glamour” that drew women to them and made them willing victims, a power that was supposed to be the work of the devil.
Miranda had to find every ounce of strength to fight.
The vampire patted her derriere. “I hunger, sweeting. I have appetites that have been denied too long.”
“Yes, angel.” Zayan laughed. He gave the same naughty chuckle as the unseen man in her dreams. “We both hunger.”
2
Labyrinth
The Chamber of the Scholomance
875 A.D.
Impossible to believe he was here, that he now stood inside the labyrinth that led to the Chamber of the Scholomance. As his father had wished, he had been selected to be an apprentice to Lucifer. He would learn the timeless magic. He would learn to control the winds, the rain, to summon powerful bolts of lightning or baking heat. He would know all the mysteries of nature, alchemy, and death.
Candles burned in a ring on the dirt floor. He dropped to his knees and let his head fall forward in the pose of a penitent man. Feminine laughter rippled over him in response.
The woman who waited in the shadows stepped out. She carried a beautifully wrought axe with a sharpened blade, and she was nude. Stars were painted over her nipples. She was entirely shaved of her nether hair. Where the thick bush of her pubic hair should be, a circle had been painted in red blood. Her hair was a rich red—almost the color of flame—and it spilled over her shoulders and down her back in soft, fragrant-smelling curls. When he breathed deeply, all he smelled was the sweet promise of new grass, fresh wildflowers, sun, and birth.
He could not believe, when he smelled her, that she was a demoness.
“Very good,” she murmured. “But I wonder if you will remain obedient for long.”
“I will,” he promised. But rebellion sparked deep in his soul. He was twenty-one—the age when a man is fool enough to grab up a sword and launch a single-handed attack on an army. The demoness laughed again, as though genuinely amused.
She paced gracefully in front of him. Just breathing in her smell made his cock rigid and thick. Already his juices gathered at the tip and leaked down the head. He was also nude, and she could see the response of his body. Her full, dark red lips curved in a smile. “You are very young.”
“I am not.”
“Your youth is an asset. Do not despair. For it means you will be forever as beautiful as you are now.” Humming, she laid her hand on top of his head. She stroked his hair.
His hair was long. It had never been cut. That had been the first clue in his realization that his father had always intended to offer him as an apprentice. He had realized his father had lied. He was not being sent to Lucifer to ensure the Vikings did not capture Wessex and destroy the last English king—the last king who embraced God. His father had plotted his destiny for much longer than that.
His father believed in the God of the Catholic religion, and so he had believed in Lucifer. The devil, his father had said, was the true path to power. Their bloody battles with the Vikings could be won only if they harnessed the powers of darkness—
The demoness moved to him, her breasts swaying. He licked his lips as he watched them bounce from side to side. What did the paint taste like on her nipples? Would she let him put his lips there? He wanted to. Her breasts were heavy and full. They hung lower than those of the young maidens he had bedded, and they entranced him. Through the thick cape of his hair, he watched them move.
She began to hack at his long hair, sawing through it with the blade. It fell in yard-long piles around him. “It is my duty to name you.”
He told her his name, but she shook her head. “You are not that young man anymore.” Her lashes were very long and ebony black. She smiled. “You are well endowed.”
“I hope that pleases you.”
“It does, but I will not be allowed to sample you. Once your head is shaved, you will never be allowed to have sex again.”
He jerked and the blade nicked his scalp. Pain shot through him, but he didn’t care. “What do you mean? I was told my seed would be precious.”
“It will be. But it will not be permitted for you to spill your seed in a woman.”
By all that was holy, what did that mean?
The demoness smiled. “Surely, you did not think that you would be accepted without a price?”
“I did not think the price was so high.”
Her laughter was throaty and rich. “Only a man would say that.” She cocked her head, considering. “I could be persuaded to wait before cutting your hair.”
He rose up from his knees until he was standing. She was voluptuous and petite, and she had to tip back her head to meet his eyes.
“What will persuade you?” he asked. He reached out and pinched one of her nipples. The greasy paint let his fingers slide around the hardening tip.
“Would this?” Emboldened, he slid his hand between her hot thighs. Already, her nether lips were slick with her juices. They were like exotic silk to his touch. His cock bucked, and he knew it was dripping with its lust.
He took her hand to his shaft. “Do you like this?”
“Young men. Obsessed only with their cocks.” She scraped her nails along his rigid shaft and he moaned at the pleasure and pain. She stroked his hipbone. He had