He watched her as she left, closing the heavy stone door behind her. Once her footfalls could no longer be heard, Zet turned to the farthest, darkest corner of the crypt. “Come. There is someone I would like you to meet.”
Warin exchanged a glance with Aleric before he put a hand on Thea’s lower back and followed the Ancient.
Zet pushed a heavy stone sarcophagus aside that would have caused even Warin trouble, revealing a jagged hole behind it. And, just as he slipped through it, the power radiating off him like a lighthouse in the night dampened. Warin could still feel his strength, but he was no longer projecting it outward as he had been. Apparently, the Lord wasn’t interested in attracting any of his loyal subjects’ attention for whatever it was he planned to show them.
Chapter 8
Warin
Zet led them through the narrow tunnel until it opened up into the basement of what turned out to be the cellar of a busy inn. It was hidden behind a false bit of wall.
“I’ve Compelled the innkeeper and the maids,” Zet explained as they made their way through rowdy drunks and busty barmaids that had Aleric sending their exposed necks longing looks. “They never ask questions about the room I rent here, nor its occupant.”
“And who’s the occupant?” Aleric asked. A glare from Warin made him tack on, “My lord?”
“You’ll see,” Zet said. “Patience is a virtue, young one.”
Aleric made a rude noise. “Sorry, my lord, I just think it’s pretty fucking weird how you dismissed your entire court to take two strangers through your secret getaway tunnel to meet some mysterious inn-dweller. I’d like to know what we’re getting into.”
“Aleric!” Warin snapped, but Zet waved him off, an amused smile playing across his full lips.
“I like your fearlessness, youngling,” was all he said before he turned back around and led them up the stairs to the rooms above.
They all followed, Thea clinging to Warin’s arm as he shot daggers at his brother. Aleric pretended not to notice.
The room the Ancient rented was located at the very end of the hall, as far away from prying eyes as possible. He pulled a chain over his head that his shirt had hidden from view and thrust the key attached to it into the lock, letting it slide open. It was dark inside, but the faint smell of magic drifting out was unmistakable.
Warin narrowed his eyes at the Ancient. “It would appear my brother was correct in his brash assumptions. What is this?”
“Not what it seems, I promise you that.” Zet pointed a single finger at Thea. “If you wish to learn what she truly is, the answer lies in here. Do you care enough about your human to push aside your prejudice, young warrior?”
“Warin,” Aleric warned. He put his hand on Warin’s shoulder in a silent plea for caution. He was right—this Ancient required caution, to be sure. No vampire would ever have anything to do with magic of the sort this room smelled of without nefarious motivations.
But…
Warin looked down at Thea. He’d come this far.
Steeling himself, he let go of her and stepped inside the room, ensuring that whatever—or whoever—was inside, they wouldn’t be able to get to her without going through him first.
A woman lay curled up on the bed in the dark. She was breathing steadily. The stench of magic oozed from her.
“A witch!” Aleric hissed behind him. The snick of his fangs’ descent sang through the air.
The sound seemed to stir the woman. She murmured sluggishly, as if drugged, pushing at the covers on the bed to sit upright. She waved her hand with a lax movement and the candles on the window ledge and on the desk lit up.
Thea gasped behind him.
“Zet,” the witch murmured, seemingly blind to anyone but the dark-haired vampire. “I thirst.”
“I know, my dove.” The Ancient walked to the bed and gracefully sank down next to her. He brushed a hand through her messy hair and touched her chin with a finger. Then he extended his fangs and brought the same finger to one sharp point, piercing his skin. A crimson drop of ancient blood pearled on his fingertip. He brought it to the witch’s lips and smiled wryly when she licked it off with fevered desperation. When she tried to clasp onto his wrist to suck at his finger, he gave her a sharp look that had her withdrawing with a jerk.
Warin stared at the witch, whose lips were still red from the single drop of blood.
There were many rules in their society, created to ensure the survival of their kind. The first, the most important among them, was to never, ever, let a witch drink vampire blood.
And yet this Ancient… this powerful being chosen to rule over others and uphold the laws of old… He fed his sacred blood… to a witch.
“You are horrified,” Zet said. His face was passive as he looked at Warin. “No doubt your Sire taught you the gruesome tales of vampires of Old, who shared their blood with witches. Of how the witches grew so powerful they could possess our immortal flesh, and we were nearly made extinct in the Great Witch War?”
Warin nodded once, not taking his eyes off the Ancient. Thea was breathing quick, shallow breaths behind him—even if she didn’t know their laws, she was picking up on the danger in the room with ease.
“Then he was a fool.” Zet’s lips curved up into the ghost of a smile. “Your blood is your power, young one. Chain a witch with your Compulsion and feed her your blood until she is addicted…” He touched his now healed fingertip to the witch’s chin. “…and you have yourself a very powerful ally. Isn’t that right, Marie? The Great Witch War was started by an idiotic fool too young to Compel a strong witch. I am no youngling. And I am no fool.
“I brought you here because I believe I know what your little human truly is—but only a witch will be able to tell you for certain. So… the choice is yours, young one. Will you let Marie taste your blood to truly understand the human whose heart sings to you?
“Or will you see her wither and die with age without ever fully knowing what she is? Who she is?”
“Warin, this is nonsense,” Thea whispered behind him. She touched his back—the lightest brush still fraught with hesitance—but she reached for him nonetheless. “There is nothing to learn—I am human. I am Thea. Please, let’s leave. I’ll… I’ll follow you willingly.”
And that was precisely why he couldn’t.
That something between them—the song in her heart and the roar in his veins that drew him to her also touched her. He could never leave here when the answer was this close, because he knew—in the depths of his being and the blood in his veins, he knew…
Warin stepped forward and let his fangs descend. Without taking his eyes off the witch, he bit into his wrist and stretched his arm out in offering.
She latched on like a starving wolf, her lips forming a tight seal around the wound. The erotic sensation of his blood being sucked from his body first surprised him—and then repulsed him.
Growling, he shoved the witch away with a hand on her forehead.
She looked at him with a faraway expression in her dark eyes, blood still dripping from her lips. His blood. “What is your question, vampire?”