Covet the Night, page 45
The door to the room creaked open. Laurel's head popped into view, her crimson hair falling in waves about her face. She smiled widely and entered with a tray.
"You're awake." Laurel's giddiness ushered a tentative smile to Gwen's face.
"Yes, I—oh, hello." Gwen sat up properly, scooting back until she received the support she sought. Behind Laurel trailed Violet, Hazel, and Lily. Their smiles were brilliant as they gathered around the bed, allowing Laurel to seat herself near Gwen's side. On the tray was a golden goblet. This, too, stirred unease.
"Drink." Laurel pressed the drink into Gwen's hands, her sparkling eyes holding steady on hers. "You must be thirsty." Gwen glanced down at the contents, but Laurel's hand swiftly blocked the view. Her finger ghosted under Gwen's chin, prompting her to look back up. "Just drink, pet."
Gwen's stomach rumbled. Whatever the contents were, it smelled divine. She brought the goblet to her lips and drank, moaning as the taste registered on her tongue. The liquid was buttery and bright and perfectly warm. She could feel it traverse throughout her body, igniting all her senses.
The muffled sound of shifting sheets was smooth and dulcet.
The plants' ripe fragrance lingered pleasantly in her nose.
She finished the drink with a gasp, licking the remains from her lips like a fiend. The others watched with happy smiles.
"Did you like it, pet?"
Gwen nodded. Her vision was sharper too. She could make out the fine details of everything within her sight: the threads of her blanket, the grain of wood on her dresser, the fine set of fingerprints staining the Eiffel Tower's silver picture frame. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, suddenly dizzy from the sensory overload.
Laurel smiled. "Have some more." A new goblet was tucked into her palms. Gwen drank without being coaxed. The flavor was even more astounding than last time—and gone just as fast.
"More." She licked her lips, eyes snapping open.
Laurel smiled kindly back and took the goblet from her hands. She did not replace or refill it. "Moderation is key in one as young as yourself."
Gwen was abruptly consumed by her baser instincts. Anger flared. Her hunger rose to an insurmountable height. Her throat constricted, and instead of the menacing growl, she summoned to rebuke Laurel, all that issued forth was a piteous whine.
"Oh, Fox." Laurel put aside the goblet to cup her cheek and stroke her hair. "It will be all right. The hunger is always at its worst the first decade, but we'll get through it together as a family."
Laurel spared her pretty smile for the others in the room. Their voices chimed in with similar reassurances, but none of them soothed her as they ought to.
Gwen dropped her gaze to her lap. Her confusion returned twofold.
What did they do to my room?
What was in the goblet?
Why did Laurel call me Fox?
She slammed her eyes shut, breathing hard. Gwen placed a hand over her racing heart but was startled at finding no beat. Listening more closely, she heard nothing at all.
“Fox?” Gwen gulped, her thoughts whirling.
Laurel’s smile remained. “Your new name. Foxglove."
"Fox for short!" Hazel piped up.
“My new name,” Gwen muttered. Speech came slowly to her as the realization settled in. No heartbeat. New name. “I’m a… vampyré?" There was a lilting quality to her voice that caused a crease in Laurel's brow. "I'm dead?"
Laurel's hands dropped from their petting to hold Gwen’s. She kissed her knuckles and kept her voice low and easy. "You're reborn."
"And the last to wake." Gwen twisted, pinning wide eyes on Violet. "We weren't sure you'd survive, or Marigold for that matter. You were able to ingest just enough of Laurel’s blood before you passed to transition.” Violet’s eyebrows rose at Lily’s scrunched face. “What?” Violet asked, clearly amused.
Lily stuck her nose up in the air. “I wanted Cassia to rename her Amaranth.”
Gwen’s face scrunched in kind. “Marigold… do you mean Becca?"
The room went silent. Laurel squeezed her hands, calling back her attention. "Her human name, just as yours, shall be stricken from the lips of this household and our hearts," she recited softly. "Only when we release the past may we stand the test of time."
She said nothing for a long while, her throat working convulsively on the right words but finding none. She was dead. She was a vampyré. And my name, she thought tremulously, is Fox. The press of her memories was untangling, shifting themselves neatly in order at a snail's pace. It was giving her a headache. The bed dipped behind her as she grappled with frustration and anxiety.
"Fox?" Violet questioned quietly.
"Yes?" she replied. Everything around her was too much. Too vibrant. Too loud. Too intense. Fingers combed through her hair, taking care to brush through the knots gently. She relaxed into the touch. It helped distract her from the onslaught of information and sensations piling on top of her.
"We've found it helps new sisters to speak of themselves in the third person. It will feel silly at first, but it will help acclimate you to your new name." Violet's hands moved to her shoulders and kneaded the stiff muscles. "Come on, give it a try."
Embarrassment colored her voice. "Fox is… confused." And feels like an idiot.
"What are you confused about, Fox?"
She swallowed and cast her eyes about the room nervously. Anxiety still pulsed through her veins. "Everything. How am I—"
"Ah-ah," Violet corrected, hands pausing.
"How is Fox a vampyré? What happened? Fox doesn't understand." Once she found her voice, the questions wouldn't stop coming. "Is it always like this? Can someone turn down the lights? Is there more to drink? What was it? Was it blood? Fox wants more." Her shoulders slumped. "Please."
Silence followed her unfettered line of questions until Laurel crooned and hugged her close. She guided her head to her lap, her fingers took up the task of combing through her hair.
"I'll explain everything," Laurel reassured her. "But first, tell me what you remember."
Her forehead drew down. "I don't—" Violet cleared her throat and gave her a meaningful look. She sank deeper into Laurel's lap, frown waning but heart aching. Then she closed her eyes. It was easier to speak this way without everything demanding her attention. "Fox doesn't know. Fox remembers pieces. Parts." She pursed her lips as she muddled through her still-settling memories. "Fox remembers dancing in the Lunarium, then being in a white room. Fox doesn't know how she got from one place to the other."
"That's all right. It's not important," Laurel said. "What else?"
"Fox remembers secrets." Her eyes fluttered open as the secrets in question washed over her: Becca's past and Antonia's truths. She shivered, and Laurel rubbed small circles at the base of her skull. "Then there was darkness. It came out of nowhere," she said, staring off into space as the events resurfaced with crystal clarity in her mind's eye. "We'd completed answering all the questions, and we were all holding hands. Then… nothing."
"They took you," Laurel confirmed, her words thinned with restrained anger.
"Yes. They wanted revenge for their fallen brothers and sisters. They were especially mad over what happened after the second test. They did something to Fox.” She curled into a ball as the memories assaulted her, squeezing her eyes shut. She felt like a child, hiding from a monster—except the monster was her memories, and there was no hope of escape. “Dark magic. It hurt… it hurt so bad. They cut all the way into Fox."
The bed shifted as Lily and Hazel sat at its end, their concern palpable as she peeked at them. "You never have to worry about them again." Lily leaned forward. "We took care of them. Not just us but a dozen of the sisters."
"Valdora will face trial for her actions," Hazel added. Lily's head bobbed along. "If that doesn't get the new restrictions passed, I don't know what will. The sorcerers are out of control! What next? Will shifters start ambushing vampyrés?"
"Not if they can spare two brain cells to rub together," Violet said. Hazel and Lily grinned in unison.
"It wasn't Valdora, though," Fox exclaimed with surprising vigor.
All four women looked at her. "Pet—"
"It wasn't," Fox stressed. "Fox remembers. Fox called out for Valdora to face her, but… but they said she wasn't there. They said she was weak and too diplomatic. They knew things." Her adamant words and memories drove her back into a seated position as something coiled tight underneath her skin. She ignored Violet's disapproving stare as she slid off the bed, even as the others gave small protests. "Fox remembers." When no one responded, she crossed her arms and began to pace.
"I don't remember being this overwhelmed," she heard Hazel whisper.
"You weren't tortured with dark magic before being turned," Lily murmured in return. "Or stabbed."
She froze. Stabbed?
Her hands floated to her abdomen. Stabbed. They stabbed her. They finished their spell, and then Darci took that wicked blade and plunged it into her stomach. And then—
"William," she breathed, chest tightening.
A knock sounded at the door and swung open a moment later. Poppy's cinnamon head poked through the crack, her eyes landing on Fox. A smile split her face, chasing away the odd frown she entered with.
"Little Fox, you're awake! Thank goodness. We were worried the transition would be spoiled by your injuries." Poppy glided into the room and hugged her, ignoring her stiffness and strained facial features. When she pulled back, she glanced around the room. Noting the tense atmosphere, Poppy kept her voice light and airy, her cheery smile in place. "Violet, might I have a word? Peony needs you in the common room."
"Of course." Violet rose with grace, ushering both Lily and Hazel up as well and toward the door. She cast a discreet look at Laurel before exiting. "I'm sure childe and sire would like a few moments together to speak privately and discuss what is to come. What is expected…."
The door shut with a click behind them.
Fox began to pace again, but for how long, she didn't know. It wasn't until she caught sight of herself in the mirror standing next to her dresser that she stopped. She stepped closer, going nose to nose with her reflection. She inspected the thin band of silver wrapped around her irises, and the tension under her skin abated.
"I want to see him," Fox said, her fingers grazing the mirror's cool surface.
"You cannot," Laurel said matter-of-factly.
"Please," Fox begged, curling her fingers into her palm as she cast a beseeching look over her shoulder.
Laurel shrank back as if slapped before rising from the bed and stalking over to her. "My blood runs through your veins—gives you new life—and this is how you show your gratitude? By begging for a man beneath your station?" Her bottom lip trembled. "I think not, Foxglove."
"You don't understand," Fox continued, wetting her lips as a strange pressure built along her sternum. "I need to see him."
Her sire's shoulders sank. "Do you detest me so?"
"No, no," she interjected, flashing toward Laurel without giving the supernatural motion a second's thought. "I couldn't be more grateful or happy to be alive."
"But you would choose him now? After I've given you eternal life?"
Fox clenched and unclenched her hands rhythmically. “It isn’t that simple.”
Laurel’s eyes hardened. “Explain it to me, then. Why reject the sisterhood now? Did you think you could get away with using us?”
"No!'
"Did you think we would let such a slight go unpunished?"
"Please, you have to listen to me. I can explain everything, I swear!"
Laurel closed the gap between them, her nose brushing against Fox’s. "I am your sire. I needn't do anything. You, on the other hand, will heed my command. You will not see him again, Fox, nor speak his name."
There was magic in Laurel's words. It knocked Fox to the ground as it pressed its will against her. A moment later, Laurel crouched down and brushed Fox’s hair aside. Their eyes met. Fox saw only compassion staring back at her.
"I told you of the sire bond while we were picnicking in Volksgarten before taking you to the court," Laurel reminded her, voice dressed in empathy. A piteous whine shuddered out of Fox. A three-way battle raged inside her, fought between her hunger, Laurel's orders, and the absolute need to be with William. Her soulmark burned with his desperation to reach her. "You knew you'd be compelled to obey me, to… to please me. I promised you I'd never abuse such a power, but you've left me no choice but to lay such a heavy hand now. He's not right for you, Fox."
"Please, Laurel."
Laurel frowned as if she was experiencing the same pain. "I don't want it to be this way, but it's for your own good. The first fifty years are difficult as it is. You don't need a torrid romance to inflame your already unsettled nerves. Everything is heightened now, but it won't be forever. You can dally with him then. Besides, the best foreplay lasts decades, after all." Fox groaned again, back arching as she fought Laurel's command. "Don't fight, Fox. You'll only hurt yourself."
"I can't."
"You must."
She shook her head. "I can't." Fox turned pleading eyes to Laurel. "You aren't the only one with a hold on me."
Laurel went still. "What is that supposed to mean?" She ran critical eyes over Fox and swallowed thickly in dismay. "What have you done?"
Fox gritted her teeth against the tug-of-war on her will, knowing it was helpless to keep her soulmark a secret any longer. "He's my soulmark, Laurel."
Laurel's lips parted. A torrent of emotion flitted through her eyes as they dilated in shock. "I rescind my commands," she said numbly.
Fox sobbed in relief as the pressure of the sire bond abated. Laurel rubbed small circles on her back as she worked to calm herself, but her body would not obey.
"Breathe, Fox."
She gritted her teeth and slanted a glare at Laurel. "I'm dead."
Her sire chuckled. "Trust me. This particular habit does wonders when you're feeling overwhelmed… and you will be very overwhelmed the first decade," Laurel finished dryly. "Have you… with him?"
"We’re marked."
"Gods." Laurel rubbed her temples. It took her several long moments to speak. "This is a precarious situation you're in, Fox. Do you have any idea the danger you're in? Loyalty to the sisterhood is valued beyond all else. To hold another in your heart—"
"But we're meant to share one soul."
Laurel's lips formed a sorrowful line, hands dropping to her lap. "And now you boast the blood of the Roux. Not simple indeed."
As silence followed, Fox shifted to sit against the bed.
"What's going to happen to me?"
"Nothing," Laurel rebuked sharply. "Do you really think I'd let anyone harm a hair on your head? You are mine as much as you are his." The warm sentiment wrapped around Fox's heart. Laurel captured her hand in both of hers, and Fox noticed for the first time that her touch no longer shocked her with its iciness. "Violet has Poppy. Hazel has Lily. My sire died long ago, but my sister, Bluebell—my Lily, so to speak—was taken from me just seven years ago."
Laurel offered Fox a tender smile.
"I know we aren’t to speak of the past, but for you to understand how much you mean to me, Fox—” Her voice caught in her throat as she reached up to stroke Fox’s cheek. “Since the first moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were meant to be mine. My childe. My sister. You have filled a space in my heart that I thought void for good. No one will hurt you. This I vow.”
Fox threw herself at Laurel, wrapping her arms tight around her sire’s neck as she squeezed with all her might.
"Gods, Fox. Not so tight!" Fox relaxed her hold instantly. "Well, I suppose it's good to see you have your fledgling strength."
"Sorry," she mumbled against Laurel's shoulder. They pulled away from each other, Laurel smiling affectionately at Fox before helping her up. "What do we do? Can I see him?"
"You will do nothing. It's imperative that you stay here," Laurel said firmly. "I and the others will discuss what to do next. You've gone through the sealing and marking?" Fox nodded. She winced and tapped her foot as her mind whirled. "Right, then,” she said sensibly, foot stopping. “We’ll keep you apart for now until we can decide on the best approach with Peony. We’ll need more of the sisters’ support, though. Having Cassia’s would go a long way…." Laurel nodded to herself, stopped, and peered at Fox. "Are you close with Marigold?"
"Yes."
"Good, good."
Laurel walked over to Fox’s dresser and ran her fingers absently over the spines of several leafy specimens. She stayed there for a minute in deep contemplation before facing Fox.
Laurel cleared her throat. "Now, I know it is said to be somewhat uncomfortable to be parted from your soulmark during this stage in your, er, courtship, but in this case, it will be for the best to keep you two apart. We don't want anyone to know about your relationship before it's absolutely necessary." Fox winced. Laurel’s hands went straight to her hips. "What is it?"
Fox hesitated to meet her sire's terse regard. "Well, you see, Marigold and…."
"Narcissus," Laurel filled in.
Fox swallowed and nodded. "Marigold and Narcissus, they know."
"How? When?"
"During the last initiation test."
Laurel cursed, but its grievous effect was lost to the loud bang that rattled every object in the room. Rushing to the door, she yanked it open. A wide-eyed Hazel was there to greet her.
"What was that?" Laurel demanded.
Hazel's face took on the barest tinge of pink as she looked at Fox, then back to Laurel.
"He's outside demanding entrance," she hissed. "And he's brought reinforcements. They're trying to rip down the suite's privacy and protection wards."
Laurel stiffened minutely and calmly glanced at Fox. The two locked eyes, both females' bodies ready to spring into action. "Don't—"
Fox sprinted out of the room before Laurel could issue her full command, her speed knocking both Laurel and Hazel to the ground as she tore out of the room. Fox was both disoriented and hyper focused as she darted down the hall and through the boudoir parlor to get to the Roux's common room. No one stopped her. No one could.
