Covet the Night, page 32
There was something in the way he kissed her, a languidness that bespoke of his confidence like he really believed they were meant to be. Gwen's knees trembled at the thought. When he pulled back, she was panting, the apex of her thighs damp from excruciating want. As she gazed into his eyes, her own heavy-lidded, she dreamed again. She dreamed of a life with him and what they could never have. Her heart ached at the vivid pictures painted in her mind's eye.
"How do you know?" she asked.
A moment passed in silence as he searched the contours of her face and the depths of her eyes. His throat bobbed. She asked again.
William continued to stare, mesmerized. Her heartbeat rang in his ears as he swept his gaze over her.
"You don't live as long as I have or go through what I have without knowing the people who will change the course of your life with absolute certainty. The ones who will leave their mark." His voice roughened at the end, eyes flashing to her soulmark and scar, then back to her widened eyes. "I can't say what it was that cemented the knowledge for me," he told her, a wistful smile on his lips as he hid the truth in plain sight, "but after our first encounter, I knew you'd be one of those people. You carved a place for yourself in my heart without even realizing it. There's such life and fire in you. I'm drawn to you…." He stroked the side of her face. "I can't help myself. For better or worse, you've got me. And if you were to stay with me, Gwen—" He licked his lips anxiously, eyes darting over the planes of her face. "—if you were to choose me, you wouldn't have to turn into a monster. I'd be by your side till your last days and follow shortly after."
She looked as if she wanted to protest, water welling on her lash lines and her bottom lip held steadfast between her teeth. William brushed his thumbs across her cheekbones, waiting for her to speak, but no words passed her lips. Her tears receded. At the sight, his heart dropped to his stomach. He'd hoped… he'd hoped for too much. His hands sank to her shoulders as a sudden burst of irritation and anger grabbed him. He wanted to shake her.
He couldn't make heads or tails of his soulmark’s true feelings. One instant, she was warm and willing, and the next donned in her Roux mask of indifference.
"Why are you so eager to die? Why would you choose a life where your means of survival means the death of others? Is it really so much more appealing than spending the rest of your human days with me?"
Gwen's heart clenched in misery.
Maybe if he knew it was pointless, that her death warrant had been signed long before they met, he wouldn't be so adamant about keeping her human. But she couldn't afford to tell him the truth. Instead, she responded with the one word that would put an end to his obsession and her ludicrous dreams of happily ever after with him.
"Yes."
William jerked back as if she'd slapped him and released her with jarring force. The devastation he wore, from his hunched shoulders to his slackened jaw, made Gwen sick. Forcing years of practice into action, she locked away her emotions and kept her blank expression securely in place. She knew he must think the trait stemmed from the Roux, but its origin lay far closer to her human origins. Not that he would ever know.
"You don't mean that." She said nothing. William growled and grabbed her by the shoulders, giving her one good shake as he'd wanted to before. "You don't mean that," he said, desperately searching her face for the explanation she wouldn't give. "You dunna mean tha'," he whispered one last time, throat constricting at the emptiness in her eyes.
A knock saved her from having to answer. William leveled a glare at the door so heated she thought it might burst into flames.
"It might be—"
"I'm aware of who it might be," William all but snarled, but even his biting rebuke didn't shake the blank resignation she'd armed herself with. He was so damn frustrated by her sudden change. She'd shown genuine interest minutes before. He'd felt it in the way she'd kissed him back and her breathless query after. What had happened in the span of a few short minutes to make her shut down?
Another knock, followed by the almost imperceptible voice of Finn, telling him Laurel had come for his guest.
William cursed. If he had more time, he—
"Wrap it up, Will. I don't want to be on Laurel's bad side," Finn called louder.
Gwen shifted her weight from foot to foot, finally letting a small frown tug her eyebrows down. "Walk me out?"
He grunted his assent. His hands dropped, one hooking around her waist to guide her out.
Laurel stood immobile at the Gunwyns’ front door, her gaze a hundred miles away. It wasn't until Gwen was before her that Laurel's facade gave in any amount. A twitch of her bottom lip. An almost imperceptible slant of her eyes.
"Looking to make a fashion statement, Gwendolyn?" Gwen shook her head, willing herself to keep the same stoic composure as her sire-to-be. Laurel's sights shifted to William. The light pressure on Gwen's waist increased, drawing her spine up. "I expect to be reimbursed for that dress you spoiled."
Laurel held out a hand, her fingertips a hairsbreadth from breaching the Gunwyn suites, and her gaze firmly fixed on William. Gwen stepped stiffly forward and placed her hand in Laurel's. A Cheshire smile broke on her sire-to-be's face as she tugged Gwen to her side.
"When will I see you again?" William asked.
Gwen stilled, her pulse pounding in her ears as she awaited some signal from Laurel to speak or—
"We'll see. Gwen's about to become quite busy." Laurel's hands fondly brushed away the dampened curls framing Gwen's face. "Fledgling vampyrés always are, as you well know, Beast."
"And here I thought you'd have a few more tests up your sleeves so you could whittle down your pool of initiates to one."
For a moment, there were no words spoken, no reaction given, and then a stifled whimper bubbled from Gwen as she bit down on her tongue to keep from crying out. Laurel's death grip did not lighten around her hand.
"Goodbye, Beast. I hope you enjoyed her."
Gwen caught the taut stretch of anger and anguish over William's face before Laurel carted her away with supernatural speed. She stumbled as they came to an abrupt halt a few seconds later and several meters away. Laurel's manacle grip remained, but the cool indifference in her eyes was now gone, replaced with a fervor that left the hair on Gwen's arms on end.
"You are not to speak to him again."
"I—" Gwen's forehead hunched down. "Why?" Ice ran through her at Laurel's answering look. "I won't," she said. "I won't speak to him again."
"Good." The succinct answer was followed swiftly by movement, as Laurel once more propelled them forward.
"Did I do something wrong?"
"Of course not."
Then why? Gwen begged to ask. She tugged surreptitiously at her imprisoned hand and was rewarded with release. A hiss flew from her mouth as blood rushed back to the offended appendage. There would be bruises.
Laurel spared her a quick frown. "I'm sorry." Regret lined her words and features. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"You didn't," Gwen lied, fingers soothing the ache in her hand with small circles.
"I did," Laurel corrected tightly, "and I'm sorry."
Neither spoke as they ascended the floors to the Royal Households’ collection of suites, but their silence wasn't meant to hold. Before the door, Laurel gave pause. The same distant look entered her eyes as she held fast on the handle.
"What's wrong?" Gwen's skin prickled at the grave frown Laurel wore.
"You are not to speak to William Gunwyn anymore. Show no interest. Do your best to stay clear of his path. I know he's caught your scent, and he won't be easily dissuaded." Laurel's lips pursed before she sighed and shook her head. "But you must do your best to steer clear of him. I shouldn't have allowed this to happen. It's my fault, but if you do this, then we should be all right, pet."
Gwen curled her arms around her middle. "I don't understand. I said I wouldn't—"
"There can be no question of your loyalty or commitment to the sisterhood, Gwendolyn. Is that clear? None whatsoever. I fear there is no greater sin among our family than to break the bonds of our sisterhood with an outsider. If they suspect something more between you two…."
Laurel cast her gaze pointedly to the shirt hanging off Gwen's slender frame. Goose bumps erupted over her legs and arms.
"Why are you telling me this?"
The whispered words drew a litany of emotions across Laurel's face: sympathy, bitterness, anger, all drawing to cool indifference as she rolled her shoulders back.
"You'll see."
XIX
T
he common room was not as it had been when Gwen left it earlier. All the lush velvet furniture was hidden out of sight and the sisterhood formed in a loose circle talking to one another in hushed voices. Every now and then, one would glance to a set of closed double doors.
Something was wrong. She felt it in her gut all the way down to her freezing toes. How she wished she'd remembered to take her shoes.
Gwen's regret melted away as she realized the circle was tightening. Laurel herded her into place between herself and Lily. The other vampyré was watching the double doors with a vicious sort of satisfaction. Gwen licked her lips to ask what was going on when someone ran to the center of the circle.
"They're coming!"
At once, the quiet chatter ceased. Gwen's blood ran hot and cold. The strange medicine William administered spiking her adrenaline as she waited breathlessly for what was to come. An elbow knocked gently into her side.
"What's wrong with you?" Lily whispered in her ear, eyeing her with concern.
Gwen smiled plaintively and hitched up her shoulders. "I'm just nervous."
Lily frowned and tucked her wet hair behind her ear affectionately. "There's nothing to be worried about. You're not in any sort of trouble. Just know that what's about to happen is completely normal."
Gwen nodded and folded her arms behind her to keep her fidgeting fingers out of view.
"What's going to happen?"
Lily's gaze flickered past Gwen momentarily to the doors, then back to Gwen with deep impressions wrinkling her forehead. "A lesson well-deserved. Pay attention, Gwen, so as not to repeat her mistake."
The hair on Gwen's neck stood on end as her mouth snapped shut. She peered around the circle, trying to decipher Lily’s and Laurel's words and deduce who was absent. Madame Roux was nowhere in sight, but the knowledge did little to aid her understanding. Her eyes combed the circle. A familiar shade of red was missing. Gwen's eyes passed over the circle once more to double-check her assumption. Danica and her strawberry hair weren’t in attendance.
A horrible nausea hit Gwen. Acid and bile crawled up the back of her throat that she struggled to keep down. A lesson well-deserved—
The double doors opened with a bang. Gwen flinched as the abrasive noise echoed through the common room, proceeded by a scream of protest. Madame Roux dragged Danica into the circle's center, the sisters constricting their formation to leave no route of possible escape. With a vicious yank, Danica was thrown to the ground. Gwen's lips parted in fright as she saw Danica's shoulders shake. Her lovely strawberry hair kept her face hidden from view.
"Our great mother, Coral, created this household under the basis that there is no love greater than that between womankind. She knew without a glimmer of doubt that sisters drawn together in arms are the fiercest one might ever encounter, and such bonds of loyalty could weather the test of time. But that does not make us infallible." Madame Roux circled Danica's weeping form. "Through the centuries, we've held strong against sabotages and nefarious plots against the masses who wish to see us fail. Always, we prevail."
"Semper Paratus."
Madame Roux stopped. Her gaze stilled on Danica's hunkered figure. She crouched down beside her, stroking her back with her pale hand, easing the hair from Danica's face for all to see. Smudges of black trickled down Danica's face, her cheeks and the tip of her nose a drab red.
"Yet none such storm has hurt us more than the betrayals we have faced within. Though these too we weathered with grace and composure, tonight we find ourselves at a precipice, where one of our beautiful muses has wandered too far from the protection of her flock. But it is not too late to repent."
"Please don't make me do this," Danica begged.
Madame Roux helped Danica to her feet. She wiped the tears and ruined makeup from her face before delivering a slap to the younger vampyré. Danica gasped. So did Gwen.
"We do not beg," Madame Roux said with aching softness.
Gwen strained to hear the words, but in the silence that followed her assault, it wasn't difficult to hear. Her hands locked tighter as phantom nails dragged down her back and called her to stand at attention. Gwen struggled to maintain her composure like the rest of the circle.
"Look around you, Danica. This is your family. This is to whom your loyalty belongs. When you threaten to break this sacred trust, you threaten us all."
"I haven't—"
"And there are consequences." The biting rebuke silenced Danica, but her rigid posture spoke loudly of her dissent. "You will listen to what your sisters have to say."
This drew the blotchy color from Danica's face. Her shoulders plunged as she warily looked around the room for those who would speak against her.
Gwen recognized the first woman. It was the matriarch of Danica's line, Aster. She reminded Gwen of Poppy with her defiantly youthful appearance and the thick ring of vampyric silver hugging her irises. Danica stifled a sob, her hands fisted at her sides as she cast her gaze heavenward for strength and fortitude.
Aster was also Danica’s sire.
"My love. My sweetest strawberry," Aster began, stepping into the circle with a soft smile. "You used to be so splendid at sharing in your spoils and secrets. You were a light in this cavernous place. When we found you, I was certain our family would be blessed with eternal sunshine from your radiance alone. But from the moment your affair with that human boy commenced, you have dimmed. Your radiant light shines only for him and not for the sisters who have loved you, who have nursed you through your deepest hungers, and have helped you rise in rank before themselves. But it is not only your light you deny us now… it is him."
Danica snarled, all vestiges of sadness gone and replaced with blazing possessive anger. She dashed forward in a rage, only to be stopped by Madame Roux's hand on her shoulder. She stood nose to nose with her sire.
"He's mine. It was agreed long ago—"
"What is yours shall always be mine," Aster snarled back. "What is yours shall always be the sisterhood’s. We are family. We are one. There is no separation. To allow you to even think he was yours was the last kindness you coaxed from us before turning your backs on us."
"Semper Paratus,” the sisterhood chanted.
Danica's eyes widened in alarm. She tried to retreat, but Madame Roux would not allow it. "That's not true."
"You took advantage of us. You gave your favor to someone else."
"No! I haven't. I still love you. My love for you hasn't changed. It hasn't!"
Aster leaned forward and laid a kiss upon Danica's crown. Whatever whispered words she spoke next, Gwen couldn't make out, yet somehow, she knew what to do as Aster pulled away from her stricken sister.
"Semper Paratus," Gwen chimed along with the others, nausea swirling in her stomach.
Another sister stepped forward—Cypress. She was willowy in her grace. Fragile to the naked eye with her bones pressing snugly against her skin. Despite her appearance, her eyes blazed with fire. Danica squirmed under her regard.
"You don't have to say anything, Cypress." Danica paused to swallow the thick lump protruding from her throat. "I know how I wronged you."
"Of course you know," Cypress replied, looking down her nose at Danica. "But do they?"
A chill went through the room, or perhaps it was just Gwen. The icy exchange left her all the more aware of her state of undress and her body’s growing pains.
"Please," Danica pleaded. "Don't."
Cypress tsked and began to circle Danica, who shrank in on herself.
"Our family is a target, and this we all know," Cypress said, speaking to the sisterhood. "But never has it been more abundantly clear than now. It was our intent to seek out the sorcerer clans Ogun, Hermetica, and Circe and strike a bargain to ensure the initiates’ safety… but I was left alone in our venture. There were two representatives for each clan, and with only one more sister by my side, any notion of attack or ill will would have been curbed. But you never showed up, sister."
"Cypress, please—"
"Where were you?" The anguished shout cut Gwen to the bone as the willowy vampyré used her supernatural speed to face Danica head-on. "Where. Were. You?" she growled.
Danica's chin trembled though she held it high. "With Hans."
Cries loosed around the circle, some sisters clutching at one another in disbelief.
"They hit me with a wasting curse. Look at me! Look at what they've done to me!"
"I'm sorry. I'm working on securing a potion for you to reverse the curse, but the clans keep refusing me." Danica glanced around the room, her eyes searching to make contact with anyone who would dare. Gwen inhaled audibly when the desperate gaze landed on her. "The sorcerers have been denying all vampyrés their services of late. It's just a phase. Every few decades, they do this. They act so superior and try to leverage a more powerful position at court, but it never lasts! I'll get Cypress what she needs. I swear it."
Gwen said nothing.
"You failed me, sister. I hope he was worth my death."
Danica's head snapped back to Cypress, lips drawn thin and down as her anger flared back to life. "You won't die, you silly little fool. You're being dramatic, and we all know it. A wasting curse can't kill our kind."
Cypress sniffed and turned her head away. "I did not deserve this, Danica. And it never would have happened if you had been there for me like you said you would." She glided back; head held high.
