Pretty When She Kills (23 page)

“Ah, but it’s the inevitable end that we all fight against, but never can escape...not fully.”

Amaliya stared down into her drink, her image reflected in the milky brown surface. “No, no, we can't.”

“You will be so pretty when you die,” Professor Sumner said, his hand stroking her cheek.

Amaliya lifted her head to find herself standing in the shadow of the dorm building. The light of the moon filtering through the treetops illuminated the professor's hair into a halo. His face was in shadow as he loomed over her.

“Your whole life you've been fleeing death even while you courted self-destruction,” his melodic, seductive voice whispered as his long, tall body pinned her to the cool concrete wall.

Amaliya's lips trembled as she tried to find the words to defend herself, but he was speaking the truth. His slender, silky fingers slid over skin as he traced her collarbone.

“Always living dangerously, dating all the wrong men, always taking the unnecessary risks, then running away when you realize you've gone too far. Isn't that the truth of your life?” His voice mesmerized her as he inclined his head toward her.

“Yes,” she answered in a hushed voice.

“Even tonight you came with me instead of packing your bags and going home. Why, Amaliya?”

“Because you're dangerous,” she answered, her heart thudding in her chest.

“Yes, I am.”

His kiss was searing, terrifying and consuming. She panted into his mouth as his lips and tongue danced with her own. Clinging to him, she moaned. His hands slid under her shirt and over her pierced nipples, making her whimper. The thrill of possibly being discovered and the subsequent scandal made his intense kisses and skilled caresses even more arousing. When he slid his hand into her jeans, she ground herself against his seeking fingers. Fingers gripping his jacket, she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anyone. His mouth, wet and warm, slid over her cheek to her throat while his hand stroked her aching sex.

The bite came savagely, the pain instantly unbearable. Overcome in agony, her mouth parted in a silent scream. Her lover held her against his body, and she heard him gulping her blood as he ravaged her neck. The excruciating hurt was too much to endure and her vision grew hazy, her hands flailing against him.

Dropping her to the ground, the vampire watched she trembled in agony. Her hands slid over her torn neck, the wound gaping and pumping blood.

“Yes, so very pretty as you die,” his proper British voice said with pleasure.

A whimper drew Amaliya's attention away from the vampire. Beside her Bianca lay staring at Amaliya with large beautiful eyes. Her hand strained toward Amaliya, seeking comfort. Bianca’s pale throat was gashed open and blood poured onto the ground. Amaliya struggled to touch the girl, wanting to console her even as she felt her own life fading.

“Do you really believe I would let you fade away forever? My beautiful, beautiful creations,” The Summoner's voice whispered.

Amaliya almost reached Bianca's trembling hand when The Summoner lifted her up and flung her.

Amaliya landed on a bed, gouts of blood bubbling up around her body. The bed was saturated with the blood and it was warm and sticky against her naked flesh. She was in the room where the secret orgy had been held. All around her were the dead of her first feast.

Gasping, she was overwhelmed with the smell and taste of blood. Her power surged while her hunger begged to be sated. Rolling onto her back, she lifted her hands to find them slathered in blood. Violently hungry, she licked her fingers, her body trembling with need.

Then The Summoner was there with her, his naked body pressing her into the blood-soaked linens. His white blond hair tumbled over her face as he kissed her bloody lips. Sharp teeth pulled at her tongue and lips, drawing blood, and she moaned with pleasure.

“All your life you played with the darkness and now it has consumed you,” The Summoner whispered tugging on the bar bells adorning her erect nipples. “Is it all you hoped for?”

Amaliya tangled her fingers in his hair, kissing him fervently. He was everything she had ever desired, everything she had ever wanted. He was her liberator from fear and pain. From death. Her bloody fingers slid down his firm stomach to find his hard cock and stroke it while her legs wrapped around him.

“We are death,” a young woman's voice whispered in her ear. “We are the consumers of life. We bring pain and terror to all who stand before us.”

The Summoner's erection found her sex and plunged into her. His mouth ravaged hers, the taste of his powerful blood sending shivers of pleasure through her.

“We are the monsters in the dark,” the feminine voice continued to utter in her ear. “We are everything that humanity fears.”

Amaliya's eyelids fluttered, her body shuddering. Her power grew, building inside of her, matching the pleasure filling her body. She was gloriously dead and alive. Her hips lifted to meet the fierce, possessive thrusts of her vampire creator.

“We belong to him because he made us. No one will ever be able to take us from him.” The velvety lips of the whisperer caressed her ear.

The Summoner slid his mouth over her cheek to nuzzle her ear. “Forever joined in darkness.” He bit her earlobe lightly, then lowered his head to bite into her throat.

Amaliya cried out in pleasure.

“His bite was our awakening, Amaliya.” Bloody fingers traced the edges of her sharp teeth.

Opening her eyes, Amaliya saw Bianca lying next to her. The pale blond hair of the girl was drenched in blood and her nude body was splattered with it. The young woman's eyes were no longer blue, but pure white and slightly glowing. Her sharp little teeth were visible between her pink lips as she lightly caressed Amaliya’s mouth with her fingertips. “We can never escape. We are part of him and part of each other.”

“Bianca,” Amaliya whispered, her hand caressing the younger woman's cheek. “Where are you?”

“Forever with you,” Bianca answered before her supple lips covered Amaliya's.

The Summoner arms enfolded both of them. Bodies writhing together on the bloody bed, Amaliya was lost to all but the pleasure of the bite, the kiss, and sex…

Waking, gasping, trembling, Amaliya thrashed about before realizing she was safely ensconced in the secret bed chamber Cian had built in the apartment. The man she loved remained blissfully asleep beside her, one hand resting on his chest and the other lightly touching her leg. The peacefulness on his face was a stark contrast to the turmoil within her.

Sitting up, Amaliya wrapped her arms around her knees and gritted her teeth against the piercing throb between her thighs. Her body screamed for The Summoner's touch and her power lashed around her, seeking him out. Concentrating, she gathered the tendrils of her power about her and dragged them firmly within her. Panting, she struggled to regain control while her body continued to yearn for the man who had killed her and created her in his own image. Wiping away a bloody tear, she focused on retaining the sliver of control she still had over her own body and power.

Rubbing her lips furiously, she tried to remove the memory of Bianca's kiss. The softness of the other woman’s lips haunted her. Amaliya’s traitorous mind had somehow interwoven Bianca into her memories. Amaliya had died alone and killed alone. Though Amaliya had seen Bianca virtually every day in class, she had never spoken to her. Yet, Bianca's words haunted her. What did the dream mean? Had Bianca been trying to warn her somehow? Or was it just her own fears manifesting in a nightmare?

Amaliya rocked back and forth, trying to ignore the throbbing of her sex. She felt swollen, violated, and unsatisfied. Pressing the heel of her hand against her eyes, she tried to block the memory of the one time she had sex with The Summoner. It felt like a betrayal of Cian to remember. It hurt to admit that she had felt acute pleasure and utter fulfillment when The Summoner had taken her.

Bianca's words returned to her thoughts.

“We belong to him because he made us. No one will ever be able to take us from him.”

Amaliya swept her hair back from her face as she stared at the clock on the headboard of the bed. Only another hour until sunset.

The Summoner was dead. Long gone. Buried in tiny pieces all over a remote country graveyard. She didn't belong to him anymore, but to herself.

Tears slid down her cheeks. The memory of The Summoner's cruelty and his touch tormented her.

She couldn't wait for the night to fall so she could escape the bed chamber.

* * *

The heat of the day had dulled as the sun set, but the air was still warm and thick against Innocente’s skin. Sitting in the cab of her grandson’s truck fanning herself with a piece of paper while watching the men work, she once again said a silent prayer for guidance. Ethan had set lanterns around the grave the men were digging up and the light wavered as it cast eerie shadows over their faces.

Closing her eyes, she reached out with the invisible tendrils of her gift. There was no answer. The dead were truly silent in their graves. Not even a whisper of memory remained. She had never experienced anything quite like it. Usually when she entered a graveyard she could feel the wispy remnants of spirits, fragments of the person who had died, painful memories that lingered long after life had departed. She wondered if this particular graveyard had always been this way. She was uncertain since she had not actually entered the graveyard the night they had confronted Amaliya’s creator. When Amaliya had faced The Summoner, she had done it alone. Innocente had escaped with the others and had not actually stepped into the graveyard.

Sergio trudged over to the truck, dragging his shovel behind him. “How are you doing, Grandmama?”

“I’m okay. Anything yet?”

Leaning into the truck, Sergio popped open the Styrofoam ice chest he had purchased earlier in the day and filled with ice and water bottles. He grabbed two and shoved the lid back in place. “Not yet. Kinda hard to figure out which grave might have a piece of him. Could be a really long night.” He twisted the cap off of one of the bottles and drank it in four large gulps.

“It doesn’t feel right,” Innocente said. She knew she sounded like a looped recording, but she couldn’t help it. Something was wrong and it was niggling at her.

“I won’t lie, Grandmama. I would rather be anywhere but in a cemetery at night. But we have to try to save Amal, right?”

Moved by his love for his cousin, Innocente touched his muscular arm lightly. “You’re a good boy, Sergio.” His skin was very warm under her fingers and she felt the beads of sweat dotting his upper lip when he kissed her cheek.

“We’re family, Grandmama. We take care of each other. Besides, after all the shit Amal has been through she deserves a happy ending, right?”

Innocente inclined her head solemnly. “Yes, she does.”

Finishing off the second bottle of water, Sergio threw the empty containers into a plastic bag and wiped his mouth. “I better get back to it. Let me know if you get any bars on the phone. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“I will.”

Innocente sighed, watching Sergio return to his task. She was tired and her back ached, but she didn’t dare take a nap. She felt she had to stay alert and be aware of all that was happening around them.

Clutching her rosary tight in one hand, she continued to pray silently.

Chapter 20

The water in the shower ran hot against Amaliya’s revitalized flesh, warming her, cleansing her, and grounding her. As soon as the sun had set, she had escaped the sleeping chamber she shared with Cian just as he was stirring. She had felt crazed in her own skin, terrified of her dream, and didn’t want to deal with the man she loved until she could gather her wits about her.

It had taken all her willpower to banish the nightmare from her thoughts. The need to flee had been almost unbearable. It had taken all her willpower not to grab a bag, her car keys, and head out of town. The instinct to run was so deeply ingrained in her it felt like an addiction. She had literally felt her body craving the feel of speed as she put the city of Austin behind her.

Instead of running away from the life she had built with Cian, she’d slipped silently in and out of the apartments of the people who lived in the building. She had often teased Cian about living above his pantry, but it wasn’t far from the truth. Since Cian owned the building, both he and Amaliya could enter the apartments of the tenants without an invitation. It made hunting so much easier. Because it was early in the evening, Amaliya only visited the single people living on the floors below them. She never drank from children, but occasionally fed from their parents if there was a lack of people in the building when she needed to sate her hunger.

The intimacy of feeding always enthralled her. It made her feel painfully dead and wholly alive at the same time as she felt the fresh blood rushing through her veins returning life to a body that should be long dead. Arms wrapped around people who didn’t even know her name, she fed from their throats in an almost sacred act of rebirth. Of all the new aspects of her life, this was the one thing she loved most. Feeding was exquisite and fulfilling. It calmed the hunger and restored her sanity.

The blood she consumed was transformed by her nature, not only renewing her body, but her power. She could feel her necromantic nature slithering through her like silken batwings, expanding and contracting. Its icy tendrils flexed and coiled inside of her, craving to touch the dead and commune with them.

Her vampire nature summoned her to drink the blood of humans, but her necromancer nature beckoned to her to raise the dead. She wanted to walk among them, feel them touching her, drawing life from her, loving her as she restored them.

This was the blessing and the curse that The Summoner had inflicted upon her. It angered her that her nightmare tainted her usual pleasure in her new nature. She loved being a vampire and had grown to embrace her necromancer power. Yet, Bianca’s words now haunted her.