Wicked Sun: Vampires & Vices No. 3, page 1
WICKED SUN
VAMPIRES & VICES NO. 3
NINA WALKER
Wicked Sun - Vampires & Vices No. 3
Copyright 2022 by Nina Walker
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblances to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Yocla Book Cover Designs
Editing by Ailene Kubricky
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-950093-26-7
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-950093-37-3
This one is for all those brave souls battling chronic illness, seen and unseen. You are not alone.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
A Letter From Nina
Also By Nina Walker
Acknowledgments
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
ADRIAN
I’m halfway back to Versailles when the royal blood bond breaks. It stops me in my tracks, a chasing wave of unbridled relief and incredible loss. I don’t have to see it to know that it’s happened––my maker is dead. I press against the nearest building and breathe in deep. It’s a learned behavior from a mortality long since abandoned, but right now, I need to breathe.
I drop my head low between my knees and try to rid myself of unwelcome emotions. The stone at my back is winter-cold, the night smells of ice and dirt and city. It’s everything I can do to keep upright when a bulbous Frenchman appears next to me, inquiring as to why I’m here. A demanding finger taps me on the shoulder. He smells of flour and booze. He’s either a concerned citizen or an angry bakery owner or both, but he’s most assuredly a fool. Does he not see who I am––what I am?
I can’t deal with humans right now. I can’t. “Laisse-moi tranquille,” I snap, growling at him as my fangs spring from my gums.
The man freezes, eyes going wide and glossy. So glossy I see the monster reflecting back. I’m primed to kill. And I could.
I could––what a revelation.
Brisa is really gone. I have no master, nobody to tell me no, and it’s enough to ruin me. His blood smells delicious, but not as good as his fear––that scent is intoxicating. It’s the middle of the night in a back alley in Paris. Nobody would see. Nobody would know it was me. What consequences would I have? None.
I want to lunge for him, but I hesitate, and it’s enough of a break for him to run. Bad idea. The predatory urge to chase prey rears its ugly head, and I almost do. “No,” I demand of myself aloud. “You’re stronger than this.”
He runs, and I don’t follow because that’s not who I am anymore. Or maybe it is, maybe it always will be, but it’s not who I want to be, who I can be. There was a time when killing an innocent for sport was natural, but it’s been ages since that game, and I’ve grown to pride myself on my restraint. I don’t have a choice in what I am, but I can choose who I am, and I’m not a murderer anymore.
Just because I’m a predator let free from my cage doesn’t mean I’m going back to that. I can’t say the same for my kind. Whoever that Frenchman is, I hope he sounds the alarm. Humans need to be on high alert.
Gathering myself together, I continue on foot back to Versailles. I’m a blur of motion that the human eye can’t catch. Speed allows me to think while running from undesirable emotions. I’ve always been good at multitasking like that. But I’m angry––that hasn’t left me yet, and I’m not sure if I even want it to. “I warned you!” I yell out to a Brisa who no longer exists. “I warned you this would happen, and now you’re not here to clean up the mess you’ve made!”
For as much as I hated Brisa, I hadn’t wanted her dead. Not yet, anyway. Not when it would unleash so many of her children to feed as they please and undo decades of hard work. No amount of immortality will make up for the dark shadows we must hide in during the daylight, but having the freedom to live among society and build a life for ourselves has been more than I ever thought possible. In the years since we came out of hiding, I’ve been happier than I’ve ever been since becoming a vampire. And for what? For it all to be undone because Brisa wanted a hybrid child? Something she herself had expressly forbidden others from doing?
She of all people should’ve avoided the risk. Avoiding risk is what allowed her to keep her crown as long as she did. When I’d left for France, I’d expected Evangeline to be my prodigy. I should’ve seen this coming––Brisa never was good at sharing.
Then again, neither am I.
I scale the palace wall and levitate across the gardens. Not many vampires can fly, so most won’t think to look up. I need to get a feel for what I’m dealing with here, a plan before I reveal myself. I don’t have children now that Kelli is gone, so there’s nobody to sense if I’m still alive or not. I could use this opportunity to slip away, but that’s the last thing I want. Even though the New Orleans coven I lead isn’t mine through a blood bond, they’re still my family, and I will protect them with my life. I hate that I’m not there right now. They need me. Many will be wayward and will get themselves killed.
I expect chaos at the palace. What I don’t expect? Stillness. Quiet. Utter Silence.
Where is everyone? Most of the court hadn’t been invited to the ritual tonight, only the most select were ushered along to spectate. And of those, surely they didn’t all die. They should’ve scattered when Brisa died but, like me, they would’ve come back here to see their children and send word to their covens back home. And maybe even to fight for Brisa’s place, though it will never be what it was.
Nobody could ever truly replace Brisa, and that had been her true power, and why I’d never found a way to kill her. Oh, I had wanted to try, had dreamed about finding a work around for the blood bond, had fantasized watching her burn . . . but I’m logical. Her death means disaster for my kind.
I enter through an open window on the third floor to a sparse empty bedroom that must belong to one of the human servants. I find her immediately, hearing her thudding heartbeat before I see her. A middle-aged stick of a woman is squashed into the corner, her eyes hollow and her mouth pinched.
“Are you okay?” I ask, first in French and then in English.
She blinks up at me through round fearful eyes. She’s lost whatever compulsion Brisa had put over her. I’m surprised she’s still here and hasn’t run off by now. She starts begging for her life in gasping French––she’s still here because she’s hiding from the vampires in the palace.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I say in her native French. “You’re safe with me.”
She nods, but I can sense she doesn’t believe me because her heart rate speeds. Tears break from her eyes to stream down her cheeks. “The others . . .” Horror corrupts her tone, and I don’t need to ask for clarification.
I already know.
When the royal blood bond broke, any humans in close proximity to the vampires here were likely sucked dry. I don’t have time to deal with this, but I’m not going to leave her to be slaughtered either. I gather the tiny woman into my arms and fly her back out to the street. If I can do one good thing tonight, then let this be it. Why should she have to die? I don’t compel humans to be my servants like Brisa did. I pay them well. I’ve built a business I can be proud of, lead a coven I love, have a home I want to keep.
Merde . . . I like my life, enough to compel this human to slow the news of what happened tonight from spreading. But what difference will it make? Brisa’s bond lorded over all of us, and now that’s gone. Many coven leaders will continue to enforce our customs, but not all. Some will use this opportunity for blood, and if it gets out of hand, vampires will be forced back into our holes.
Like where Eva is right now.
Thinking of her sends a frenzy of worry through me coupled with an aching need and a hollow fear that I can’t will away. I had this stupid idea that she and I could make it work somehow, that I could be with her, really be with her. But that was foolish. She’ll never forgive me. Why would she? I wouldn’t forgive me.
It was self-preservation, a skill I picked up long ago. When I learned to conceal my emotions, tucking them away to gather dust. When I made Brisa love me. And when I left Eva in the catacombs to face our common oppressor without me.<
Damned self-preservation.
No vampire lives as long as I have without being a selfish prick. I had to leave her, I couldn’t risk staying. But there’s just one problem––what starts as self-preservation can quickly become self-sabotage, and that shit gets old. And lonely. There, I said it. Lonely. Lonely. Lonely. I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten until I met her.
Eva is my own personal sun. I’ve found her warmth, and I love it.
And I hate it.
But what if she refuses me? What if I have to feel this aliveness all on my own? Every pain, every hope, every emotion that I’ve locked away for centuries is now staring me in the face without a way out. She’s the only way out. She’s it.
The sun.
I have half a mind to forget Versailles and get her out of the catacombs this very second. And I will, as soon as I know what I’m dealing with, what we’re dealing with. She has three days before she’ll turn, but I’ll intercept her before that happens. I’ll keep her safe. And then I’ll kiss her and hold her, and she won’t turn into a monster like I am. She’ll be wholly herself, and she’ll forgive me, and maybe she’ll love me, but even if she doesn’t love me I’ll be content just to have her.
I drop the trembling woman off with instructions to hide and then rush back to the palace. This time, though, it’s not quiet. Not even close.
CHAPTER 2
The wind twists my hair back as the car zips down the two-lane highway. My fingers dance on the torrents of air––up down, up down––until the rattling fear in my chest loosens. Even though I’m one step closer to freedom, I’m beginning to question if freedom really exists. It’s a strange resignation that my life isn’t what I thought it was. It’s not like I have lived wearing rose-colored glasses, but things have turned out to be crueler than I imagined.
“You’re not planning something stupid are you?” Tate asks, his weathered eyes twinkling with observation. Sometimes it feels like he sees far more than he lets on. It’s unsettling in the best of times and terrifying in the others.
When I left Paris this morning, part of me imagined I’d be free, but I know deep down that was wishful thinking. I’ve traded one prison for another, but escaping an eternity as a vampire is worth whatever Tate has in store for me. It has to be. I’m at his mercy––a man who has manipulated me and lied to my friends, who hid his true identity for his own gains.
I could make him squirm a little with my answer, but I decide to go with the truth because lies feel like quicksand right now. “Nope, even though I want to run away, I won’t. I have literally no plans, nowhere to go, and am counting on you not to screw me over.”
“You don’t like losing control,” he prods. “Can’t say I blame you. I don’t like it either.”
My mind flits to Ayla and how she’d say wanting to keep control was a trait of being born in September. I miss her weird zodiac ramblings so much and don’t know if I’ll ever get to make things right between us. “Yeah, that control freak thing is a problem. That, and I can’t stop thinking about the freedom I’ll never get to have.”
“Ah, freedom.” He nods as if he understands how I feel, but I’m the one being held hostage in this situation, not him. “It’s such an American concept, you know. In other countries, people care more for unity and the collective good than for individual freedom.”
“Well, you have an American accent, so are you saying you’re not the same way?” I fight to roll my eyes.
“I was born in Spain, spent many years in Italy, but I’ve lived all over since I was a small boy.” He smiles ruefully. “I guess that makes me a citizen of the world.” Sounds pretentious. “I spent most of my formative years in New York City, but I do think I’ve held onto my sense of community over individual expression.”
“So you’re a rule follower?” I raise an eyebrow.
He doesn’t answer that, and I let it go, trying to relax into the leather seat. It’s cool enough that my skin doesn’t stick to the upholstery and late enough in the day that I’m starting to grow chilly with the convertible top down. I don’t ask him to put it up, though, because I don’t mind the cold. It’s actually quite refreshing. I breathe it in as if this is the natural state my body prefers. I don’t let myself think about it for too long because enjoying the cold isn’t my norm. It’s actually another thing to add to my freak-out list. Vampires love the cold because they are cold, but I’m not going to turn. I refuse.
“Well, I used to think that freedom existed in my own mind,” I explain, deciding this conversation with Tate is the best way I’m going to process my emotions. “That no matter what happens to me, I’d be able to control my thoughts and feelings, and that nobody can take that away from me.”
“And do you still believe that?” A ray of sunlight glints off his sunglasses as he turns to study me.
A knot forms in my throat, and I shake my head. “I wish I did, but I’ve come to realize that our thoughts are biased. We see what we want to see, believe what we want to believe, and feel what we want to feel. Sometimes those things keep us more trapped than anything else ever could.”
Because even when all the evidence pointed to the contrary, I still allowed myself to fall for Adrian. Not even fall, I jumped. And I wanted to believe I was making the right choices with him, that he’d protect me, that he was falling too . . .
I was wrong.
“Ah, now you’re catching on,” Tate replies.
There’s a smugness to his tone that makes me want to punch the smirk off his face. Normally I’d say something snarky. I could point out that he uses young and impressionable human hunters for his dirty work, but I don’t. It’s not a good idea to poke the bear, and it’s not really what’s bothering me right now anyway . . .
The truth is, I fell in love with a cold-blooded vampire. I trusted Adrian. I gave myself over to him, offered my heart and my body. And where did it get me? Betrayed. Heartbroken. And worst of all––infected.
Gah! Why can’t I get him out of my mind?
Tate has the forethought not to comment further, and we continue on in silence for the next hour. He’s been driving all day, and we’ve only stopped once to go to the bathroom and pick up snacks. We’re in a hurry to get to our destination, and as the sun sinks into the horizon, my heart rate accelerates. It would be so easy for me to give in, to go underground and let the venom take control, snuffing out my mortality like a flame starved of oxygen.
I can picture the venom spreading through my body––my olive skin going waxy, my warm muscles hardening like concrete, my limbs growing cold, and fangs bursting through pliable gums. Presumably, I’d become far more beautiful than I am right now, every imperfection smoothed over like a glossy varnish, but I have a hard time imagining that part to be worth it. Human mortality is something so many vamp wannabes would give up at the chance to be powerful and gorgeous. Not me. I can only focus on the bloodthirsty monster that would lurk underneath the false exterior, and it makes me want to scream and cry and hurl myself from Tate’s speeding car.
I shake my horrible thoughts away and turn on him. “Where are we going?” I ask for what is probably the hundredth time. The man hasn’t given me a straight answer.
“I told you, it’s safest for everyone if you trust me to handle this.”
Here we go, another man asking me to trust him. “Trusting you got me into this car, didn’t it?”
“No, necessity did.”
Okay, he has a point. “But why can’t I know where we’re going? Unless it’s somewhere you know I won’t agree with, and that’s the true reason you won’t tell me.”
