Covet the Night, page 10
The hair on Gwen's arm lifted. Despite the ruckus of the bar's inhabitants, Brit's husky delivery was crystal clear.
"Why were they being hunted?" Liv inquired.
"Necromancy is dark magic," Becca piped up, her sight fixed on the table. "The power of the necromancers was too great a threat to ignore. So, the other supernaturals made the decision to eradicate them."
Brit slowly straightened and brushed back the curls clinging to her neck. "That's exactly right, and despite knowing he faced certain death, Nicholas raced back to the Kingdom of Bulgaria. It took him two weeks to reach his destination, for at several points along his journey, he was forced to hide or fight his way past those trying to kill him. His lover, Regulus, had been buried by then. So, under cover of the new moon, he set upon the grave and hauled his lover back to his safe house—coffin and all.
"Knowing his time was limited, and his enemies could be upon him at any moment, Nicholas harnessed the sum of his power to bring his lover back to life. And what power it was. They say the act of reanimation requires more power the longer the person is deceased. At that point, Regulus had been dead for weeks. Nicholas gave every ounce of his power to reanimate Regulus, and it worked," Brit paused her fervent retelling to finish off her champagne. It did nothing to bring down the color rising on her chest and cheeks. "Regulus returned, but he was not the same. The reanimated are hollow creatures. But it didn't matter to Nicholas. The sight of his lover awakened brought him to his knees, where he cried tears of blood."
"Mon Dieu!" Liv clapped her hands over her heart. "What happened next?"
"They say something ignited inside Regulus at the sight of Nicholas in such a state. Some say it was the magic, so thick in the air. Others claim it was the blood—the twin streaks of red slashing through the world of black and gray for the hollow man. Whatever the cause, Regulus followed Nicholas to his knees and reached out to wipe away his tears. The necromancer shuddered at the touch and proceeded to watch in horror as his lover closed his eyes and licked his fingers clean.
"At once, the magic in the air stole the room's warmth. Both men gasped, Nicholas in fright and awe, Regulus in shock, for though his heart did not beat, he was, for all intents and purposes, alive."
A great crash and another symphony of mocking calls dominated the room. Brit did little to hide her annoyance, her hands curling into tight fists that made the muscles of her arms bulge. When the room simmered back to a more reasonable volume, she forged on.
"Regulus's senses quickly became overwhelmed by his sudden rebirth. He was ultra-aware of his surroundings—every drop of rain that pounded against the roof, every minute crease on his lover's face conveying what he could not put into words: his wariness, his pride, his love. But above all else, Regulus's attention and senses were drawn to his lover's blood. Regulus trembled at the unfettered strength pumping through his veins, trying in vain to fight his unnatural desire to reach out and taste his lover's blood again."
"The Hunger." Antonia's voice was distant and humble. "They say it's torture the first fifty years."
"Some are still afflicted with it after." Becca's tone mirrored Antonia's, but as she went on, her voice darkened with slivers of fear. "They call them the sanguinares. They're… addicts, for lack of a better term. They're completely controlled by their lust for blood. They'll even attack other vampyrés."
"They're feral."
Becca nodded and ducked her head. "Cassia said whenever they're uncovered, they're executed immediately, or else they go mad, eventually."
"A mercy killing." Gwen swallowed the thick lump in her throat and ignored the look Liv threw her way. "Finish the story, Brit."
"Nicholas rambled on about the trials he faced to get back to Regulus and bring him back, but the longer he went on, the more Regulus’s hunger rose. You see, it was Nicholas's blood that truly brought Regulus back to life. And it was Nicholas's blood that was his downfall. Consumed by his hunger, Regulus fell upon him like some wild animal as his lover completed his tale. At first, Nicholas tried to fend him off using the blade which had seen him through his journey, but he could not bring himself to deliver the killing blow.
"Regulus killed him. He drained him of his blood and took what little life was left running through his lover's veins, claiming it as his own. When he realized what he'd done and what he'd become…." A far-off look took over Brit’s eyes. "He ran."
The table grew silent at the story's sad end, all except Liv. Some indignant noise scratched up the back of her throat.
"He ran?" Liv scowled at all four of them. "That’s how the story ends? He was a coward and a murderer."
Becca blinked in shock. "He died of dysentery and was brought back to life by sheer will of his lover. It shouldn't have been possible to reanimate him. He'd been dead for too long."
"And then he killed his lover," Liv persisted.
"He was newly turned and didn't understand what he was doing. He knew only his hunger—that's why the sire mandate was enforced," Becca argued. "If a fledgling vampyré is found without his or her sire, they’re executed with due haste, for they cannot hope to control their hunger without help."
"A mercy killing."
Gwen avoided Liv's crestfallen expression in favor of the bar's patrons. The sorcerers near the fireplace seemed to have calmed their friend. Their huddled bodies blocked the light of the flames, casting long shadows along the floor. The shifters still heckled, but their ridicule lacked the vicious bite of before, and they volleyed insults at random. A sense of peace had been reached for now.
"If that story's ending didn't satisfy you, perhaps this one will." Curiosity piqued around the table at Antonia's offer, prompting Gwen to shift her attention back to her fellow initiates.
"Well?" Liv pressured impatiently when Antonia didn't continue right away. "Are you going to tell it or not?"
Antonia's honey-brown eyes shifted to Brit. "Fetch us another round of drinks, won't you?"
Brit frowned but made no dissent as she headed to the bar. Gwen watched her out of the corner of her eye. She wasn't sure Brit needed another drink.
"What's your story, ma chérie?"
The corners of Antonia's mouth flicked up in a coquettish smile. "If we're to share origin stories, I think it’s only fitting the hybrids’ be told."
There was a hiss—an audible inhalation of air so taut it earned everyone's stare. Becca stared back before casting her gaze surreptitiously around the room. "I thought we were finished with the topic of hybrids?" she rushed to say.
"What is it?" Antonia asked brusquely, her coquettish smile gone.
Becca blushed furiously. "I don't think it's wise to speak on such a sensitive subject in a public place."
"You don't think, or Cassia doesn't think?"
The color on Becca's face intensified at Antonia's nettling. "We don't know who might be listening or watching—"
"Darling, everyone is watching and listening. We're the talk of the court. And what does it matter if we retell these stories or share the latest gossip? We wouldn't be the first, and we won't be the last." Becca's face fell in dismay. "Chin up," Antonia demanded. "You act as if the subject is taboo. I assure you, it's not."
"It's not that," Becca protested, face still aflame.
"Then what?" Liv pressured.
"Never mind."
The grumbled response was left untouched as Brit returned with five new champagne coupes. The glasses tinkered precariously as she set them on the table. Gently frothing pink bubbles spilled over the edges courtesy of Brit's shaking hands. Gwen was quick to assist but not quick enough.
"Whoa, there we go," Gwen said as she caught three of the coupes before they could topple over.
"Sorry."
"Don't worry about it." Gwen shook the excess liquid from her hands after passing out the glasses. Brit smiled weakly back at her. Gwen's eyebrows rushed together. "Hey, are you—"
Before she could finish her question, Antonia cleared her throat. Loudly.
"May I begin now?"
"Mmm, oh yes, do," Liv replied, her eyes bright and alert as she sampled the champagne.
"It starts with a vampyré by the name of Martin Allves. He was a disgraced courtier, exiled for his controversial agenda of trying to play God and create a new breed of supernaturals. A hybrid. During his exile, he performed experiments on other supernaturals, trying and failing to procure the results he wanted until he captured a family from the Douglas pack of lycans.
"Allves tried a new method on the family, forcing them to consume triple the amount of blood needed and enlisting the help of some sorcerer to guide the transition. It worked… but only on one member of the family.
"Allves was ecstatic. He intended to use the sire bond with his newest creation—a lycan-vampyré hybrid— to exact his revenge on the Dark Court for exiling him. But it didn't work."
"What didn't work?" Gwen found herself asking anxiously.
"The sire bond," Antonia responded with glee. "If it had worked as normal, William would have been compelled to do as his sire bid. Instead, William killed Allves to avenge his fallen family. He attempted to return to his pack after the whole ordeal, but they wouldn't take him. They couldn't accept what he'd become. He wasn't fully vampyré, nor was he lycan enough to belong."
Liv frowned over the rim of her glass. "I thought you said this story had a better ending," she muttered.
"I'm not finished, am I?" Antonia scoffed and rolled her eyes. After a languid sip of her champagne, she continued, clearly relishing in Liv's impatience and attention. "When the Celestial Court—they're the governing body of all supernaturals," Antonia hurried to say when she caught sight of Becca opening her mouth. The American grunted but kept silent. "As I was saying, when the Celestial Court heard of his existence, there was an uproar over what to do with him. The majority wished to see him put down while the minority cried for leniency.
"No one expected the last of the Greater Households to petition for his life, offering him sponsorship under their family name. They agreed to spare his life and uphold the households’ petition on the condition that William prove his worth in the Pits. If he lost even a single match, his life would be forfeit and that of the Gunwyn Household." Antonia flicked a curly lock of hair out of her eye as she leaned forward with a sly grin. "William became one of five courtiers to successfully earn their place in court through pit fighting."
"Who are the others?" Liv asked.
"Sasha Pulzin, Diego Morales, Drake Von Bank, and Jakob Vrana."
Gwen schooled her features into placid interest as the last name sank in.
"And who did you say his sponsor was?"
"The Gunwyns. He took their family name," Becca offered readily with a smile. Gwen’s heart lurched as an image of the insufferably handsome man filled her head. "Cassia invited them. The hybrid was there tonight with a few of his brothers and sisters and, of course, Lord Gunwyn. Didn't you see him talking to Gwen?"
All eyes immediately fell to Gwen, who managed to keep the visage of vague interest on her face. She shrugged and let her eyes roam the room in clear dismissal of a real reply.
The women waited for a second more before proceeding eagerly with their conversation. Gwen, however, found her gaze locked on a twosome cleverly tucked out of obvious sight around the corner of the bar. It was River and Bailey—and they were getting up to leave.
She watched as they ascended the short set of stairs to the elevator and waited. Gwen wondered if it was the rise in commotion from the bar patrons that drove them away or something else. Whatever the cause, she couldn't have anticipated the sight that greeted her when the antique elevator arrived at last.
Gwen whipped her head back to the group, praying fervently to whatever god would listen for the man who entered to stay far away—very far away. Oh, God. She squeezed her eyes shut. Please do not let—
"Fancy seeing you here." William's warm voice filtered in Gwen's ear, intimately close. She gasped and ducked her head to the side, glaring at the Scotsman, who wore a friendly smile. "And here I thought all you lovely girls had been tucked into bed. I didn't realize the newest lot of Roux would be such troublemakers."
On the other side of the room, the distinct sound of glass shattering stole William's thunder. Shouts erupted as the trio of sorcerers outfitted in citrine robes argued passionately with one another. One had a wand in his hand. The tip of the dark wood spat angry bolts of red at the floor.
"Don't worry about them," William said to their group. "The Gamayun Clan is always butting heads with one another in their pursuit of knowledge. Though, it certainly doesn't help that the shifters are egging them on, does it? Must be something in the air tonight. Everyone is out to cause some kind of mischief or trouble. Including yourselves."
"What have we done that's so bad?"
"Not doing as you were told by your mistresses, for a start," William retorted easily.
Liv colored and narrowed her eyes playfully.
"Gwen, introduce us all." Biting back a pained sigh, Gwen followed along complacently. "And don't let the gentleman just stand there! Scoot in, ma chérie. "
She stiffened for half a second before doing as asked and sliding farther in. William followed closely, sitting near enough that their arms pressed against one another. Gwen looked away, flustered for no good reason at all.
Stop being ridiculous, she scolded herself, and pull yourself together. He's just a man.
A bullish, sinfully handsome man with a voice that belonged to the devil.
Gwen held back a groan and privately lamented the indecent amount of champagne she'd consumed.
"Is your friend feelin' all right?" William pitched his voice low for only Gwen to hear. Teeth chewing at her bottom lip, she reluctantly followed his line of sight to Brit. She did look a bit… peaked. Her hazel eyes were far glossier than the other three.
"Brit? Are you feeling okay? Do you need to go back to the apartment suites? I can walk you back."
Becca, Liv, and Antonia cried out in dismay, with Antonia's voice rising above the others. "Don't be like that, Gwen. Brit is perfectly fine. She's just had a little too much champagne, a problem that can easily be remedied."
Seizing on Antonia's words, Liv snatched the glass of champagne held loosely in Brit's grip and poured what was left into her own glass.
"Voilà! Now, Mr. Douglas—or do you prefer your household's name, Gunwyn?"
"Call me William. I insist."
Liv's sultry gaze flashed with triumph. Her smile turned to liquid gold as she fluttered her eyelashes at him, rolling his name out on her tongue. William chuckled good-naturedly, eyeing her back with open interest.
The sight raised Gwen's hackles, the line of her shoulders going ramrod straight. Her irate movement brought William's attention back to her in a sly glance.
Smug mischief shone brightly in his eyes, the quirk of his eyebrow and smile communicating a silent message of "How does it feel?" before gracing Liv with a brilliant smile and engaging her in conversation.
This is payback, Gwen realized, for my behavior at the ball. She crossed her arms and pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to keep from saying anything stupid or rash. Then she scolded herself again for feeling anything at all.
Another round of shouting cut through the bar, interrupting the table's conversation. Gwen huffed in mild aggravation. Tension was mounting in the room that was difficult to ignore. The shifters kept growing louder, responding to the sorcerer's heated remarks. All the while, another group of sorceresses, wearing amethyst robes, urged them all to settle down. They did not.
“William, what exactly is it like being a hybrid?” Becca questioned before Liv could take up her flirting again.
“Hazardous.”
“Why?”
“Take a guess.”
A flush erupted over Becca’s face. Her mouth opened and closed as she fought to curb her embarrassment at William’s dry retort. After several seconds of flustering, she pulled herself together. Ivy eyes gleaming, Becca sat a little taller in her seat, folded her arms on the table’s glossy, albeit sticky, surface, and assessed the hybrid. Her lips cut a straight line to match the ones furrowing her brow.
“Because you’re powerful and power attracts trouble”—Becca cocked her head—"which the Dark Court has in spades.”
The curve of William’s smile came to a dangerous point. “A sound deduction, lass.”
“Some say you’re the best fighter the Pits has ever seen.” Antonia’s casual comment was anything but with the iron in her eyes. She raked her gaze over William’s bulky frame, her expression unchanged. “Is it true? Do you think you’re the best fighter here?”
“I’m not the best,” he responded solemnly. “Just the luckiest when it comes to keeping my head attached to my neck. I’ve lost my fair share of fights—"
“But you’ve won more, haven’t you?” Gwen kept her sights firmly on her second glass of champagne as the table’s attention swung to her. She toyed with the glass’s round bottom, running her nails over the smooth surface, back and forth, back and forth. “Is that why they call you the Beast?”
Choking silence filled the space after her question, bringing into stark contrast the growing ruckus of the bar. Gwen’s gaze flickered over to the loudest of the clamor. The shifters seemed to be having a fine time provoking the pair of sorceresses in ruby robes and the drunken Gamayun Clan in citrine. Others—shifters, vampyrés, and sorcerers alike—barked orders for them all to be removed.
“Do they call the Roux bloodthirsty sirens and black widows because of your penchant for luring your unwitting lovers to their death?”
Heat flared inside Gwen as she glared at William. Yet she said nothing, nor did the others. William chuckled and shook his head, leaning closer to Gwen, who went pin straight at the motion.
“No, sweet.” He brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingering over the delicate curve of her ear. Goose bumps rose on her skin at his achingly soft voice and touch. “They call me the Beast because that’s what I am. If monsters are the things that go bump in the night for humans, then I’m what goes bump in the night for the monsters.”
