Chapter 23 Julian
Pain. Indescribable pain. Even after the scorching light of the sun withdrew, the intense burning on my hands and face remained. And my eyes. I didn’t even dare try to open them for fear that they had completely melted from the sun’s devastating rays. I couldn’t even tell if I was crying, the sting was so incredibly overwhelming.
Something brushed against the charred flesh of my arm, and I jerked with a pathetic whimper, turtling in against whatever new threat was assailing me.
“Calm yourself, Julian, it’s only me.” It was Marguerite’s voice, her tone soft and attempting to soothe, but it only made me cringe tighter.
Her arms scooped beneath my neck and knees, and I felt myself being lifted off the cold stony floor. Was she taking me away from this nightmarish room? Was she carrying me to some place even worse?
What did it matter? Nothing was worse than this searing agony. I would pray for death if I didn’t know Shea was here, too. She’d come to this godforsaken place to get me out. I couldn’t die yet, not until I knew she was safe.
The familiar scent of lilac incense tickled my blistered nostrils, and I knew I was back in Marguerite’s room. She lowered me onto a soft, plushy surface, the cool sheets a small comfort to my roasted skin. I never thought I’d be so relieved to be in Marguerite’s bed. I was so grateful I wanted to cry.
“Witch, can you heal him?” Marguerite asked.
“Um, y-yes, I think so.”
Shea! That was Shea’s voice. She was still here with me. Did I repulse her in my current state? I could only imagine my repugnant appearance. Would she still love me?
“Well, what are you waiting for? Heal him,” Marguerite snapped, practically shrieking. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she actually cared.
“Okay, yes,” Shea said.
A weight settled on the bed beside me, and her sweet voice began to whisper pretty, foreign words. A warm hand gently landed on my forehead, scathing the crispy blisters, and I hissed.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, the tremble in her voice making me think she might be crying. “It’ll be better soon.”
She continued to say her words, and soon the warmth in her hands began to feel…pleasant. Nothing like the burning torment of the sun, but soft and soothing, like a summer breeze or a warm bath in winter. It was the kind of heat you wanted to melt into, and so I did.
Her warmth slowly spread across my face, down my neck, seeping into the surface of my skin and saturating me all over. Every tight muscle I didn’t realize I was clenching released, and I languished into the mattress, surrendering to the comfort and control of Shea’s healing touch.
The heat of her magic replaced the screaming pain inch-by-inch, until finally, none of my torment remained. My eyes no longer felt like stinging, congealed pools, so I finally gathered the courage to lift my eyelids.
Shea’s beautiful face was inches above mine, her stunning emerald eyes shimmering with too many emotions to identify. I wanted to lift my head to kiss her, raise my arms to hug her, but apparently not even her magic could account for the copper in my system or the drought of blood in my veins.
“Very good,” Marguerite said, her shrill voice reminding me she was still here. The constant thorn in my side.
She came into my view, shooing Shea away with a wave of her hand and taking her place beside me.
“My poor, sweet Julian,” she murmured, brushing her fingertips lightly down my cheek.
I turned my head away from her, but that didn’t free me from her wretched touch.
“I’m so sorry we had to do that,” she went on. “I didn’t want to put you through that, but you know how Hadrian gets.”
I sneered sideways at her. “So you’re just going to let him incinerate your toy whenever he throws a tantrum?”
She pouted, and for the briefest moment, I thought I saw a hint of actual concern. “I’m sure that was only a one-time thing. He needed to test out his new witch.”
She turned her head in Shea’s direction, and my dry and feeble heart skittered with fear.
“ My witch now.” She beckoned Shea closer, and my beloved witch obediently stepped before her.
What did she mean by her witch? Shea had come here posing as a prospective Initiate. She couldn’t have… Could it be that…
Marguerite tucked a loose lock of hair almost lovingly behind Shea’s ear, and to Shea’s credit, she didn’t flinch. “I’ve never truly known a witch before. The last one I came across stole something valuable to me.”
Marguerite flicked her gaze to me for an instant, and I did my best to quiet my uneven pulse. This mission of Shea’s was dangerous enough as it was, but being assigned to Marguerite? Please, not that.
“But I can trust you , can’t I, Shea?” Marguerite said sweetly.
If I didn’t know Shea’s body and soul so well, I would never have detected the hatred and fury hiding behind her compliant expression. “Of course, Marguerite—Maggie? Mistress? What do I call you?”
And there it was. Shea was Marguerite’s Initiate. Did she plan it that way? Or was this just some cruel twist of fate? If Marguerite caught even the slightest whiff of the relationship between us, she’d turn Shea’s slaughter into a drawn out game—and make me watch. Hell, she might just slit her throat for the hint of sass I detected in Shea’s mocking response. I widened my eyes at her, cautioning her to tread carefully, to behave.
“Marguerite is fine,” Marguerite said in a clipped tone, making me suck in a sharp breath, scratching my parched throat and sending me into a coughing fit.
Marguerite looked down at me with false sympathy. “Oh, my love, I forgot you haven’t fed today. Let’s remedy that right now. Shea.”
I gasped at the insinuation, forcing my cough to intensify.
“Huh?” Shea squeaked, her eyes widening in surprise as her posture stiffened.
Marguerite cut an impatient scowl at her. “What are you waiting for?”
Shea fidgeted on the spot. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you—”
“Feed Julian, of course,” Marguerite snapped. “Can’t you see he’s thirsty?”
“Oh, I just—you want me to—right, okay,” Shea stammered, awkwardly scurrying around the bed to sit on my other side.
She tugged at the sleeve of her coat on her arm.
“What are you doing?” Marguerite asked snidely.
“Offering him my wrist?” Shea replied, her voice wavering with uncertainty.
Marguerite rolled her eyes and scoffed. “We drink from the neck here. Honestly, you have much to learn.”
Shea glanced down at me with apprehension as I continued to hack against the insatiable itch.
The thought of tasting her euphoric blood charged every cell in my body with desperate need, and there was nothing I wanted more. But I understood her hesitation. Here, in front of Marguerite. If we weren’t careful, either one of us might expose our intimacy. And as weak and destitute as I was, I wasn’t sure I could restrain myself.
“Well? Hurry up,” Marguerite huffed. “If you can’t feed a vampire, you’re no good here.”
“Right,” Shea said, and as she gathered her hair to one side of her shoulders, I saw the realization that she’d have to feed Marguerite as well hit her—that fact terrified me as much as it did her.
She slowly lowered herself above me, stretching her head to the side to offer me her neck. Her vein thumped beneath her delicate flesh, beating a cadence that drew me in like a clarion call. Her sweet scent fell all around me, tickling the scratch in my throat, and I couldn’t resist any longer.
With a rush of effort, I gripped the other side of her neck and pulled her down over my open mouth and waiting teeth. She gasped as my fangs penetrated, spilling her delicious nectar onto my tongue and lighting every one of my nerves on fire. My eyes rolled up into my head as I tried to savor, to drink slowly, but it was too damned good! And I was so thirsty! I couldn’t hold back, couldn’t not suck on her with all the force I could muster.
“Alright, that’s enough.” Marguerite’s voice sliced through my bliss a moment before Shea’s neck was ripped from my mouth.
“Ah!” Shea hissed, clapping a hand over her neck, which continued to bleed.
“We don’t want to drain her on the first day,” Marguerite chided. “Witch, come.” She curled her finger at Shea as she leaned over me.
“Wha—” Shea mumbled, appearing a little light-headed.
Marguerite scoffed again. “Let me seal the bite. I don’t want you bleeding all over my sheets.”
“Oh.” Shea leaned over my abdomen toward her, and Marguerite bit her tongue and licked over the angry wound. The skin closed, stopping the spill of any more of Shea’s precious blood.
“Mmm.” Marguerite moved her tongue around in her mouth. “I can see why Julian drank so deeply. You’re delicious. I’ll have to sample you myself.”
Fear washed over me like a winter wind. I had taken too much from Shea. If Marguerite got her teeth into her…
“After you’ve recovered, of course,” Marguerite added, clearly seeing the same pallor on Shea’s face that I did. “Make sure to hydrate yourself. I want to have my fill tonight.”
Shea nodded, and I thought I could see even more color drain from her cheeks. I was going to do whatever I could to keep Marguerite from drinking from her. I didn’t want her hands, or her mouth, anywhere near my Shea.
“Okay, you’re dismissed.” Marguerite waved her away like Shea was a pesky fly. “I’ll summon you when I have need of you next.”
Shea stole another glance at me before bowing her head for Marguerite, then slowly turned around and traipsed out of the room.
When the door closed behind her, I let out a breath of relief through my nose. I didn’t like this arrangement one little bit. As much as my soul ached for Shea, she wasn’t safe under Marguerite’s thumb. Why couldn’t she have been assigned to a different vampire? Any other vampire? They were all just as cruel and rapacious as Marguerite, but her jealous streak made her infinitely more dangerous.
“Her blood really becomes you,” Marguerite commented, looking fondly down at me. “You actually have color to your cheeks.”
She caressed the side of my face again, and this time I didn’t bother jerking away. I didn’t want to trigger her wrath now that she had a vulnerable Initiate to vent her rage upon.
A crease settled between her perfect golden eyebrows, a sadness shimmering in her eyes. “I really am sorry I had to subject you to such pain. Believe me when I say that watching you burn hurt me more than it hurt you.”
“Then why did you let Hadrian do it?” I snapped, my own rage flaring inside me. “If you truly loved me, you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me.”
She shook her head sadly. “You know I had no choice. If I had refused Hadrian’s orders, I’d have been in the Sunroom right alongside you. And then you’d have no one left to protect you.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Some protection.”
“Hey, I restored you, didn’t I?” she whined defensively. “Hadrian would’ve preferred you heal slowly, suffer as long as possible. That’s why I insisted on the witch being assigned to me. With her at our disposal, we can accomplish so many great things.”
“And if Hadrian insists on killing me next time? What then?” I challenged.
Her expression hardened. “I would never let it come to that. He promised me that you would be mine.” But the doubt in her eyes told me even she didn’t believe that.
She climbed onto the bed and lay down beside me, propping herself up on an elbow to look down at me. “My offer still stands. Pledge yourself to me, and I’ll take you away. Love me, and I’ll never let anyone hurt you again. We could be happy together.”
She nestled into my chest, and I didn’t try to fight off her uninvited affection. I just lay there, letting her draw whatever comfort she could from my listless form.
I hoped Shea’s plan worked, and quickly, because if her safety ever came into question, I really didn’t want to have to accept Marguerite’s offer. But I would, for Shea.